Dillon and Dal spend every Christmas at a house on the beach, but they never spend very much time in the sand. This year, Dillon has dark red silk ribbon to wrap Dal up in and he can't think of a better Christmas gift for either of them.
Originally published in Toy Box: Ribbons
Spending Christmas at the house on the beach had become something of a tradition.
It was a way for him and Dal to get away from all their responsibilities and just focus on each other. Not that Dillon needed to have quiet and isolation in order to focus on his lover, but it was nice when it was just him and Dal, especially if their responsibilities had kept them apart, as they had this year.
They'd been busy right up to Christmas Eve, and were each going to make their way to the beach house on their own. Dillon had arrived this morning, set up the tree, decorating it himself.
He'd found a novelty shop online and all the decorations were naughty -- penises with bows around them, penises with balls, nipple clamps with chains attached, tiny little whips, cat 'o nine tails that were perfect replicas down to tiny little knots at the tips of the tails, metal cock rings that shone in the firelight. There were even a dozen little corsets in blood red leather and another dozen in various colors of velvet.
It was festive and hilarious and sexy all at the same time.
There were dozens of presents under the tree, a lovely, decadent meal just waiting to be heated up, a fire crackling merrily away and a special present sitting on the big chair next to it wrapped in blue and silver.
All he needed now was Dal.
His lover was coming in from a business trip in LA, and Dillon prayed Dal's flights had gone without a hitch. The limo was already at the little local airport, waiting to whisk Dal into his arms, and he would be most cross if Dal got stuck somewhere.
Dillon had walked on the beach. He'd munched on the Christmas goodies the housekeeper had left him: mince pies and shortbread cookies and homemade candy canes. He'd gone through the top two dresser drawers in the bedroom, inventorying and making plans to fill their two weeks with love and fun and kink.
For one of the shortest days of the year, it sure was dragging along slowly.
He finally settled on the chair by the fire, gift moved to sit on the floor next to it, with a snifter of brandy in one hand and a mystery book in the other. There was more dozing than reading going on, the book no match for even the memory of his Dal.
He barely registered the opening of the door, but the warm lips pressing on his woke him up, as did the hint of Irish whiskey on Dal's breath.
"Mmm... Merry Christmas, baby." He slid his arms around Dal, his lover's clothing cool to the touch. Dal had made it, his lover was here. All Dillon’s restless energy settled.
"Hey. Weather's getting terrible. I almost missed my flight." Dal slid into his lap, pushed into his arms.
"Oh, I'm glad you didn't. It would have sucked not to have anyone to share my toys with." He took a kiss, his tongue slipping between Dal's lips. Groaning, he swept in deeper, the taste of Irish whiskey strong, but Dal's flavor shining through it, going straight to his cock.