Page 33 of Don't Shoot Me Santa
Kenny didn’t touch him. Didn’t press. He waited.
Aaron’s silences weren’t barriers. They were bridges being built one plank at a time.
“Torn,” Aaron finally said. “Part of me wants to crawl out of my skin and take control…” He floated off. Mentally, that was. Trying to figure out how to put into words what he believed would make him vulnerable right then.
But Kennywantedthat part. So he probed, “And the other part?”
“The other part is yours already. You know it is.”
Kenny kissed the edge of his jaw. “That push and pull? That’s what we’re navigating.Together.”
Aaron gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t gift wrap it like a fucking Christmas present. You’re edging me.” He glanced behind him. “I know your game.”
Kenny smiled into his skin. “It’s not a game.”
“Feels like one.”
Kenny smiled into his skin, soft and unshaken. “It feels like a game because I make you wait. But it isn’t. That waiting? That ache you hate?” He touched Aaron’s chest. Flat palm, heart-centred. “It’s where you learn you’re safe. That I won’t let you fall. That when I give, I’llreallygive. And you’ll know it’s because you let me hold it for you first.” He kissed Aaron’s ear lightly. “I’m building you a place where you don’t have to choose between being strong or safe. You can be both. Or neither. You can just…be.”
Aaron’s breath caught. “Feels dangerous.”
“Because your body’s trained to associate honesty with risk. But this—” he kissed his neck “—isn’t about control. It’s about beingwitnessed. Every version of you. Including the parts you think are unlovable.”
Aaron closed his eyes. “Even the dark part?”
“Especiallythe dark part.”
Aaron leaned back into him a little more. Bone-deep and trembling but anchored. The steam curled as they settled deeper into the bath, Kenny skimming Aaron’s skin, like a cartographer redrawing borders he already knew by heart. Aaron sipped his wine, then tilted his head back with a satisfied sigh.
Kenny gave it a beat, then put down his wineglass and nudged the underside of Aaron’s chin with his nose. “Let me wash you.”
Aaron snorted. “I can wash myself.”
“You can. And if you want, go ahead. But I can touch you where you need me.”
“Not where I want.”
“Where you need.”
Kenny reached behind for the soap, forcing Aaron forward off his chest, then worked the bar into a thick foam before dragging it down the line of Aaron’s back. “Mmm.” He licked his lips as Aaron arched under his touch. “Look at you. Melting.”
Aaron hung his head. “Not melting… appreciating craftsmanship.”
Kenny grinned, pressing his thumbs into the tension at the base of Aaron’s spine. “Craftsmanship, is it?”
“High-end service.” Aaron tipped his head back again, closing his eyes. “Shame about the attitude.”
Kenny laughed. “There’s only one person in this bath with attitude.”
Kenny pulled Aaron back to him, pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, then ran soapy hands down his arms, across his ribs, and under the bend of his knees. Aaron shifted lazily, indulgently, letting him. As if he was made of meltwater and trust.
“Turn.”
Aaron glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing with faux suspicion. “So you can soap me up and drown me?”
Kenny hummed. “Tempting. But no. You’re far more entertaining alive.”
Aaron twisted, hooked his legs around Kenny’s hips, and dragged him forward into the centre of the tub where they sat chest to chest. Water surged around them, lapping over porcelain to slap onto the floor tiles. And with their bodies aligned, cocks close, but not quite touching, Kenny started with Aaron’s chest, slow strokes over flushed skin, then moved to his shoulders. He reached for the shampoo, worked it into Aaron’s hair with careful fingers, massaging his scalp untilAaron tipped his head back, throat bared, eyes half-lidded in something close to surrender.
