I'm dreaming of a White Christmas,
Just like the ones, I used to know.
Where the tree tops glisten,
And children listen,
To hear sleigh-bells in the snow.
"It's brown," Zee states, leaning out the second storey window. His long, platinum blonde tresses sweep the tiles of their back verandah's roof. A callused hand glides down his bare back, along the line of his spine, to grip the waistband of his jeans. "This is absolutely wrong. I can see brown grass in my backyard."
"And what do you expect me to do about it?" A wet, sloppy kiss is planted firmly in the middle of Zee's back. "Want me to ring my old friend so he can send the jet over to pick you up and take you home for Christmas?"
Ice blue eyes peer over a slightly sunburnt shoulder. "Would you come too?"
"Absolutely not!" Violet eyes dance in merriment to throaty chuckles. "I'm not putting up with your very pregnant sister for the holidays."
"I won't survive her, if you don't go." Pushing his butt into the groin of the man behind him, Zee attempts to back away from the window. Strong wiry arms wrap around a thin waist and holding him in place.
"I can feel your ribs again, Zee. What's happened to all the effort I put into adding meat to your bones?"
"We've been busy renovating." Again, firm buttocks grind against a hardening part of the captor's anatomy. "Remember?" The blonde curtain hides a satisfied smile and he loosens his grip on the windowsill.
"Remember!"
A swift tug jerks the man, leaning out the window, abruptly into the room. Caught off balance, he falls, backwards, into waiting arms. They gently lower him the rest of the way to the floor and draw him close; encircling his shoulders and molding his back to a wiry chest. Warm breath tickles his ear and flows down his neck. "Max," he sighs.
"What am I going to do with you," the words are almost a whisper. "Just because I'm not there to watch you eat, doesn't mean you don't." Max tightens his embrace. "Isn't what we have enough? Every time I start to think I'm getting somewhere with you and I relax my guard, even a little, you..."
"It's just Christmas." Zee brings his hands up to lightly touch the arms across his chest. "I haven't been drinking."
"What about Christmas?" Rubbing his cheek against the gaunt one of his lover, Max closes his eyes.
"It's brown. It won't snow and the tree is dead," is the rather forlorn reply.
"The tree is so... not dead," Max counters.
"It's been chopped down. It's dead. Maybe it doesn't look it yet, but it will... eventually." Fingertips trace the corded muscles along Max's forearm.
"If you're missing your roots that much..." Max plants a kiss on a despondent jaw. "Fine, I'll take you home. Christmas was meant to be spent with family anyway."
The smile greeting that announcement could be compared to a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day. "I'll pack!" Zee springs to his feet with a speed vaguely reminiscent of a certain Lightning Count. "We might even be there for the birth of the next heir of Cinq. She's due any day now."
"We haven't finished our talk, yet!" Bounding to his feet, Max stalks after the flurry of activity. "Zee! This is serious!" He dodges flying garments to close in on his prey. A swish of hair as the man before him turns on his heel, leaves him blinded. He grabs at the passing arm, yelling, "I AM SERIOUS!"
"About?" Pale blue eyes widen with concern and all movement stops.
"You." Max reaches up to trace hollow cheeks with his fingers. "I'm sorry I've been too busy to notice, but you've lost most of the bulk I've manage to put on you over the last two years. I need to know why you've stopped eating again. I need to know what's wrong. I can't fix it if I don't know the problem."
"It's not what you think," Zee mumbles, studying his feet. "I haven't stopped eating." His hands slide into his pockets and his jeans slip a little lower on his hips.
Max's eyes narrow at the sight. "Well, sit down and explain it to me." He waits till the taller man settles on a chair before moving to stand between the long legs and directing the bowed head to his chest. "I'm waiting," he says, smoothing tangled hair.
"Well, just because you have a cast-iron stomach, doesn't mean that I have one too." Tilting his head upwards, Zee nibbles on the resolute chin.
Lips brush as words form, "But, my sweet prince, you've been doing the cooking."
"Exactly," the prince states, licking the presented lips. "I only know how to fry. It's too greasy and upsets my stomach." His hands reach for the braid dangling down Max's back.
"Zee, hunny, you've been cooking since..." Violet eyes darken and fists clench. "What have you been eating?"
"Salad sandwiches..." is the mumbled reply.
"Salad!" The firm hold on his braid is all that keeps Max in place. "Only people on, lose weight diets eat just salads!" He shakes the man in his arms slightly. "You don't have any to lose." Trailing his fingertips down Zee's body, from a bony shoulder, grazing past a nipple to caress prominent ribs, he whispers, "I can count...."
In a voice, breathy with desire, Zee says, "You haven't done that in a while." Releasing the braid, he tugs at the shirt; eager to feel bare skin under his fingertips.
"I'll just have to do it right now." Max pulls the shirt off over his head, tossing it aside as he kneels.
A throaty chuckle soon follows the move. "You don't have to take off my pants to count my ribs..." Hands slide appreciatively over muscled shoulders.
Max wraps those long legs around his own waist, moving his palms up the thighs to grip firm buttocks. "You're in real trouble if I can lift you off this chair." He draws Zee closer, bracing with his knees to test the viability of his intentions.
Locking his ankles, just in case, Zee protests, "I'm too big for you to carry!"
"You wanna bet!" The taller man is lifted off the chair.
"Max!" Zee clutches at the straining shoulders as they take off at a run. "We won't make it to the bed!"
"O ye of little faith!" The smaller man shouts in triumph as they tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. "That's it," he says with a stubborn look in his eyes. "I'll be cooking for you again, no matter how busy we are." He rolls them over to lie on their sides, facing each other. "Last month," he says as the expression in his violet eyes softens, "I couldn't get two steps with you off the ground."
"We almost fell over the threshold..." Zee's ice blue eyes melt at the memory, his voice becoming husky. "Has it really been a month since we bought this place?"
"It's been too long..." Diving into the kiss, Max plunges his tongue past parted lips into the welcoming depths of the waiting mouth.
"Ahhhh..." Zee sighs as he is allowed to breath again. Kisses work their way down his neck to pause for a slow suckling on his shoulder before continuing downward. He slowly undoes the braid. "Max?" Hands full of lustrous chestnut tresses, he finds himself flat on his back with a familiar presence between his legs. "My ribs aren't down there," he manages to say as he begins to drown in the pleasure flooding his senses.
"I'll..." Max feels the gentle caress of fingers in his hair. "Get..." Gazing upward to see his lover's eyes flutter closed, he smiles and lightly blows on the hardening penis, so temptingly close to his lips. "To..." His tongue darts out for a quick lick. Hips push against his restraining hands. "Them..." A longer sweep of his tongue is immediately rewarded by a soft moan and harder thrust. "Later..." He lowers his head for a fuller taste.
"Duo!"
Later, much later, as they lie in a tangle of limbs and hair, Max's fingers caress the ribs he is supposed to be counting. "How about...? We go back to Jack and see if he can dig us up a live tree, roots and all," he suggests with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Whatever for?" Zee mumbles, his head snugly placed under Max's chin
"We'll plant it in the backyard on Christmas Day," is the bright reply.
Shifting to look up at the man holding him, Zee whispers, "Our very own roots. Right here..." Their gazes meet and hold for a long moment.
"And next year," Max continues. "On Christmas Eve, we can have a midnight picnic under our very own live Christmas Tree, that we would have decorated with lights and tinsel with white cotton bits for snow," he promises with a cheeky grin.
"We'd have to be here to plant the tree," Zee points out quietly.
Sighing, Max concedes, "Only if you want to."
"You mean..." Zee sits up. "I'm stuck with brown Christmases?" he asks in disgust.
"Do you really want to be in Cinq for all the official Christmas things that happen?" Max asks in reply. "You won't be able to avoid them if you're there," he reminds the prince.
"No," Zee says, ice blue eyes narrowing. "But what about the baby?" he asks, moving to straddle the man still lying down.
"Do you really want to be there when Relena goes into labor?" is the question posed for consideration.
Looking uncertain, Zee curls up on Max's chest. "Well..."
"Q will call," Max states. "If he doesn't, Rashid will. The big man promised me." Linking fingers with the hand on his chest, he makes his offer. "We can go when it's all over, and make a fuss over the new baby."
A light squeeze of the hand linked to his, and Zee admits, "I'd like that."
"I knew you would." After kissing the top of a platinum blonde head, Max pushes him upright. "Let's go get that tree."
I'm dreaming of a White Christmas,
With every Christmas card I write,
May your days be Merry and Bright,
And may all your Christmases be White.
The End
Peace's Day (Wufei's Sidefic) | Home | New Year's Resolutions