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The saloon was full of laughter and cheer, not that you could feel it. The juke box hummed with the sound of holiday carols as the town residents celebrated with copious amounts of eggnog; laughing and smiling with a warm spirit of Winter Star. You on the other hand sat upon your usual worn out bar stool, drowning yourself in the warmth of the thick beverage and allowing the alcohol to dull the ache that encompassed your lonely soul.
This was your first holiday season away from your family; not like they cared about you anymore. Your once warm and supportive family had all but abandoned you after you decided to uproot your entire life and move to the remote small town you now had been living in for almost a full year. At first they seemed to support your move, until they realized it was more than just an early mid-life crisis. After the first three months of living there your family began to beg you to come back to the city. To try and ask for your job back. But at that point you had already made an amazing life for yourself here and couldn’t fathom leaving the friendship you had begun to create.
You had fallen into a quiet routine. Working throughout the day in the fields. Joining the ladies for aerobics and yoga in the winter when there was nothing to do around the farm. Spending weekends at the saloon drinking away the problems that continued to weigh heavily on your brain. Drowning in the sorrows that refused to leave your thoughts. Falling into a… relationship of sorts, consisting of mere convenience after a few weeks in town with one of the locals.
You had met him a few times–brooding in anger–against the warmth of the fireplace there within the walls of the Stardrop Saloon. At first he’d only reply with grunts in a brief acknowledgement of your presence, irritated that you had even bothered to approach him. But you could see the pain that sat beneath his dark green irises, for it was the same hurt and pain you felt inside yourself. You let yourself bridge that gap with an offering of more alcohol, watching as it slowly chipped away at his hardened exterior. After a few week of silence brewing between the two of you—sipping away as the cold and frothy olive branch you had extended—by the end of the night he surprised you by paying off that evening's tab you had racked up and left you with a simple, ‘can I walk you home?’. You bit your lip unsure of how to respond before mentally telling yourself ‘fuck it’ and allowing him to escort you back to the run down farm you still hadn’t managed to rehab completely.
No word’s had been exchanged, no commitments, no pleasantries, no strings.
Just the two of you joining together to help each other dull the pain for a moment and giving your bodies a fleeting evening of peace.
For months the two of you used each other as an outlet from the grief that towered over the both of you. Each of you, craving the other for your own selfish needs. You weren’t lovers, honestly you weren't fully convinced he’d classify you as a friend. There wasn’t much you knew about him, aside from the basics: his name was Shane, he lived with his aunt Marnie and she was helping him raise his goddaughter Jas, he worked full time at the Jojamart in town, he spent his evenings at the saloon drowning his feelings with alcohol much like yourself.
Yet there were things you knew that the rest of the town couldn’t see; he was stronger than he seemed–his arms sturdy from the manual labor but his stomach remained soft from the beer, his cock was the perfect length to fill your cunt with a heady girth to stretch you wide with pleasure, his tongue skills were something out of this world–bathing you in an ecstasy of warmth every time his tongue curled around your clit and teasing your desperate cunt–and numbing the pain of loneliness even for single fleeting moment.
The tap of his finger upon your shoulder, was all you needed to down the lukewarm eggnog that remained at the bottom of your mug and slip your card across the bar towards the jovial bartender. Shane had already slipped out the door as normal, waiting around the corner for you to exit. The two of you rarely were spotted leaving at the same time. The bitter cold of the evening air around you had you pulling your coat tighter around your body as your feet carried you towards the dark haired man.
A tipsy smile danced upon his face as he drank you in, eyes full of lust. You couldn’t help the feeling of attraction that built over time towards him. What had once started as convenience for you, turned into a steady source of misplaced affection. Over the last few months, you two had grown closer. Your walks back towards the farm began to have light conversation, asking how the other had been feeling. More so checking in mentally, rather than an attempt of growing closer; ‘ how's things with Jas?...How's the farm going?...Morris still giving you shit?...Have you heard from your parents yet?’
That last question hung heavy in the frosty air that bit ferociously upon your flesh—burned red within the cold. You pulled in a large breath, chills running down your spine as you bit upon your lower chapped lip, peeling away the dry skin and feeling the sharp sting of the raw newly exposed flesh. Your eyes fell to the dark gravel path beneath your feet, the sound of shuffling gravel filling the quiet that hung in the air between the two of you. You hummed low in response, informing him you had not.
“I sent them an email this morning. Can't really get a good phone call out here with the shit service I have and they haven’t exactly responded to any of my messages in the past, what…six months now?”
You shoved your glove-covered fingers inside the warmth of your pockets, the chill in the air seeping into your core, even through the heavy warmth of alcohol swinging through your veins.
Shane snorted out his disgruntlement beside you, pulling your attention back towards him. “Fuck’em then.” His scruffy face grew wide as his lips pulled back into a sarcastic smile, “You're better off without them. You got all the family ya’ need right here in the valley.”
A strange heat sparked within your chest, his words swirling through your mind like the atmosphere around you. Staying silent as your feet carried the two of you closer to the farm, you mulled over the sound of them ringing within your ears. ‘Did he think of himself as family? Did he think of himself as a friend?’ It wasn’t like the two of you were unfriendly anymore, although you didn't interact with each other during the day. Only at night, after the saloon, on your somewhat quiet walks and within the comfort of your cabin. Only when the two of you remained alone in each other's presence, away from the prying eyes of the rumor filled town where the two of you resided. Unsure of where his own thoughts had wandered you nodded in return.
The sharp squeal of your gate’s hinge had you shivering, cringing at the frequency of the sound alone. Last week the first snow of the season had fallen upon the valley. It covered the farmland in a heavy blanket of snow. The tiny ice crystals glittered upon the ground, sparkling in the moon's glow as you and Shane made your way to the front porch. Thankfully you had decided to decorate for Christmas before the snow had fallen, not that you could see much anymore under the thick snow. You had spent the entire day digging out your grandfather's old decorations and adroning them around the farmhouse. Honestly there had been so many you forgot what all you put out. It wasn’t until Shane’s question broke the comforting silence with a point of his finger.
“What the hell is that thing?”
You let your gaze follow the path of his finger, your eyes falling upon a clump of green leaves that grew upon a barron branch of the oak tree above the two of you. Your eyes widened in disbelief, you most certainly did not hang anything there and you definitely don’t remember the tree having any color this morning. You had always heard from your grandfather that a certain ‘magic’ could be found within the valley, but in your subtle drunken stupor it was hard to wrap your head around the fact that there above your head, sat a beautiful bough of mistletoe.
Your tipsy smile widened as you stared up at the bright pop of color bathed in the fluorescence of moon light. “Shane,” you giggled. “That's a wild bough of mistletoe. Do you know how rare it is to see that here?”
He stepped closer, breathing out a sigh of disbelief. “Mistletoe, really? You wanna kiss me that bad, huh?”
Under its own volition, your arm swung back and swatted Shane across his soft abdomen, letting a heavy grunt push out from his chest. Your head lolled to the side, gracing him with an unamused expression. “For your information, No, I did not put this here. My grandpa had a dried sprig of mistletoe but I did not hang it up because who comes over here in the first place? That’s right, no one. And I'm not about to walk around my house staring at something that just reminds me I’m alone, okay?”
A twinkle flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, a sense of mischief flashing in its wake. “Oh, is that so, huh?” Shane took a step back and crossed his arms. “That old man had a mistletoe, huh? I wonder who he was trying to trap beneath that thing?” His question remained more so to himself rather than being directed to you it had seemed.
A quick breath rushed past your lips, “You do know that the mistletoe isn’t just for kissing right?” you folded your arms across your chest, shifting your weight to one side. “It’s heavily believed to ward off evil spirits. And yes, it was heavily used in wedding ceremonies to symbolize fertility and if a woman was caught under mistletoe they had to return any kiss or they weren’t allowed receive any marriage proposals for a year. So sure in a way it was used for kissing but that wasn’t its original purpose when it came to decorating for the holidays.”
All the while you rambled on, Shane stood there mirroring your stance, nodding along with a massive shit eating grin upon his face, brows raised high under the swoop of his hair.
“Oh really now, and how do you know so much about the mistletoe, huh?”
You watched his eyes continue to shift to the greenery that hung above the two of you and back down to where you stood less than three feet away.
“I studied Greek mythology in college. There was a really long Greek holiday called Saturnalia to celebrate the god Saturn.” Your lips began to spew information out towards him as your body relaxed, it felt good to relay information that had remained trapped within your mind for years without a source for it to be used. “It was this whole thing. It lasted like a week and there were pig sacrifices on an altar and they’d feast on them for days. People would exchange small gifts and trinkets, and the towns would decorate with mistletoe and holly cause it was really the only pop of color in the colder season. It became a symbol of good luck and was thought to ward off evil spirits.”
Shane stood before you grinning and nodding along. ‘Great,’ you thought. ‘He thinks I'm an idiot for rambling.’
“What?” you huffed, dropping your arms to your side. “I get it, I'm a dork.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he smiled back at you, dropping his own hands and moving slightly closer to you. “I’ve just never heard you talk so much about something before. I can hear the passion in your voice… It’s just nice.”
If it weren’t for the cold air turning the skin of your face red, he may have seen the blush that crept up from your chest.
“What else can you tell me about Saturnalia?” Shane brushed his fingers up the side of your arm, still shielded from the elements beneath the warmth of your jacket. Yet the tingle that his touch left upon your body, radiated through the dense fabric.
A lump began to form in the back of your throat as he inched his way closer. You tried swallowing it down but your throat went dry. “Oh um…” your voice trailed off as the weight of his palm pressed firm above your elbow. “Each year the town would choose a ‘king’ of sorts and he would rule throughout the celebration.”--as you spoke your voice dropped lower with each word– “Everyone would have to listen to him. No matter what he requested… even if he’d ask for something stupid… they’d have to do it.”
Leaning forward Shane hummed in response, eyes piercing into your own. “I think that sounds pretty cool,” he huffed a small laugh. “I can get behind the idea of being the King of Saturnalia.” Your breath caught in your chest as his lips hovered just above your own, a high pitched squeak falling from within. “Now, about this mistletoe, ‘can’t have ya’ just walking around unable to accept a marriage proposal for the next year, can we?”
You tried to let out a scoff at the idea of someone ‘actually proposing to you’, but he cut you off with a tender kiss.
The warmth of his lips had you melting against his body. The rough scruff of his face tearing at your flesh with each passing second. It started warm and inviting, but grew with a steady passion as time stood still around you. Pulling him closer, your movements turned feverish with need. Trying to let him know just how bad you needed to feel him inside you. You tried pulling him towards your farmhouse, ready to strip him and yourself of the clothes that stood in your way, but the unsteady ground around you had you stumbling over your own feet. Maybe it was the eggnog, maybe it was just your own clumsiness, you weren't sure. Yet the giggles that fell from both you and Shane told you he didn’t mind either way.
The heat from inside had you yanking the heavy coat from your torso, watching Shane do the same as the room around you began to tip. Once the two of you removed your jackets, his feet carried him closer, wrapping his sturdy hands around your frame and lifting you off your feet. It startled you to say the least. His hurried feet carrying the two of you down the hall towards your bed, lips never leaving yours; wet tongues assaulting each other with fervor. The room around you spun before you realized it was the two of you falling towards the mattress below. He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothes, his hurried fingers stumbling over each button and clasp that held him away from your body.
Your breath remained unsteady, ragged with anticipation. The words falling upon his breath seemed like your drunken mind were simply imagining them, “...fuck, your so beautiful… I love that I’m the one who gets to fuck you… you’re so fucking special… fuck, I love you…”
Heavy moans escape your lips as your fingers work to rid him of his own clothing. He leaned away, stumbling over his own feet as he tried stepping out of his jeans and falling to the floor with a loud crash.
A deep ‘hhhnnnggg’ shattered the silence of the room before a drunken laugh fell past your lips as you leaned up upon your elbows. “Are you okay?” you managed to voice through upon the laughter that filled the void.
“Ya, I’m good,” he spoke through a wince. “I’ll be fine.” You met his eyes with a smile, watching him drag his body off the floor and crawling his way back towards your lips.
The two of you giggled through a clumsy kiss, fumbling while the two of you continued to remove every last bit of clothing that still remained upon each other.
Shane nestled between your legs, letting your knees fall open at your sides. He pulled away from your kiss, saliva coating each other's face, and grinned down upon you. “so, do I get to be the King of Saturnalia?”
Your lip tucked its way between your teeth, suddenly feeling shy as if you didn’t enjoy doing everything he’d ask for in bed regardless, “I suppose. ‘Can’t have a night that starts under the mistletoe, end without a king.”
“Yeah?” His smile lit up the dark of the room around you. “Well, in that case,” his voice dropped down low. “I want you to beg for it.”
A heavy pur reverberated from your throat. “Please, Shane… I need you.”
Instantly his once soft hands grew greedy, grabbing and pawing at your body through heated kisses–wet and sloppy. His teeth knocked into your own, a gentle pain yet it seemed to intensify your need, repeated whispers of ‘Please’ continuously falling past your lips. Shane began to growl in response to each whimper you let slip, his hands groping your thighs as he nearly bent you in half, pressing your thighs against your chest. You grab behind your knees, holding yourself in place as he trails his fingers down the back of your thighs. He presses his thumbs on the sides of your pussy, spreading you wide to see you in all your glory, your wetness on full display glistening like the snow in the moonlight.
“Fuck, I just love your pussy so much,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I need you to beg for my cock. Do it… fuck beg…”
“ Please Shane, I need your thick cock in me so bad. Fuck–I love your cock.”
He pressed his hips down to let the angry red tip of his cock kiss upon the heated entrance of your cunt. Your walls attempted to clench around him, wanting to suck him in yet he pulled away as if to tease you further.
“You needy little thing you. Fuck, you gotta be patient,” his voice teasing you more so than his cock. “Tell me what you want…”
“I want you to fuck me senseless.”
Once more, Shane let his cock come to rest against your sodden cunt, yet this time he allowed himself to enter. His thick girth stretched you as he allowed himself to sink in as far as you’d let him, feeling full as his tip pressed firm against your cervix. He stayed there a moment allowing you to adjust to his length, relaxing around him allowing him to sink in further with each new flutter of your walls. Normally this was when he’d start thrusting with heavy need, yet this time he chose to gently roll his hips, grinding in a soft and steady motion. And oh, was it good…
With every stroke of his cock, a new wave of arousal leaked from within, coating his cock in a thick, natural lubricant. A fiery heat coursed through your body as you held on for dear life to the back of your knees, each gentle grind pulling soft whimpers that would float through the air.
Shane let go of your flesh, leaning forward allowing his chest to hold your legs in place. Your arms came up, wrapping around his back while your ankles remained draped above his ears. With him closer towards your face, you could hear every soft moan that vibrated through his chest.
In that moment something changed in your heart. You asked him to fuck you senseless, yet this was something different; this was far much deeper. This held far more passion than a good ‘fuck’ .
That’s when you heard it… really heard his words–drank them in.
“...I love you…”
You had heard him say it a few times earlier that night but you didn’t realize how much he truly had meant them. No, you thought they were simple drunken slurs. Much like the time he’d called you Emily when the two of you had first started sleeping together. The weight of his words did something to you. Something you really liked.
A wave of pleasure cascaded down to your core, over filling your eager cunt and showering Shane in the process. A loud moan fell from within as your wall tightened around his cock.
“Fuck, Shane,” you moaned. “Say it again. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you… Fuck, I love you so much.”
That’s all it took. The dam broke, sparking a second orgasm to blind you with heat as your voice struggled to respond. “I love you, Shane…”
His hips jerked, slamming into you, bullying his throbbing cock deeper inside of you. His once tender thrusts turned feverish the moment your words hit him. Love. it scared you, yet you welcomed it with open arms as he continued to fuck you with every ounce of energy his body had to offer.
With a guttural moan, his body stalled. You could feel his cock fill you with cum, adding to the already copious moisture that saturated your walls. Sweat coating his body as his stiff muscles relaxed atop of you. His lips found yours, brushing a tender kiss upon them as his fingers worked their way to tangle in the damp strands of hair that haloed around your face. He didn't move. Not till you gave him a tap upon his shoulder begging for your legs to purchase freedom. You laid there side by side after he rolled off of you, both of you catching your breath. The moment you could muster an ounce of energy, you curled up into his side. The silence felt deafening, laying there wondering if he meant it. Your mind searched for the right way to ask him, yet you didn’t need to. He beat you to it.
“You really love me?” he asked, voice trembling as he spoke.
You smiled, nuzzling into his side, heart beating faster as you basked in the afterglow. “Yeah, I really do.”
“Why?”
His question hung within the silence. Not because you didn’t know, but because it confused you why he didn’t believe you.
“Because, you’re the only person who makes me feel like I matter. You simply make me feel… whole.”