A Christmas for Us

Disclaimer:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult readers (18+). It explores Black love, intimacy, and emotional healing, featuring explicit sexual situations between consenting adults. The narrative delves into themes of vulnerability, complex relationship dynamics, and moments of emotional and physical connection. Reader discretion is advised.

Xavier shifted the cardboard boxes in his arms, careful not to drop them as he maneuvered through the crowded shelter lobby. The air smelled of hot soup and cinnamon, the faint strains of holiday music drifting from the kitchen. Outside, snow fell in soft flurries, blanketing the streets in a hushed calm. Inside, the shelter bustled with activity—volunteers weaving between tables, tired murmurs from residents, and the clatter of dishes echoing in the background.

“You need a hand, boss?”

The voice was smooth and steady, catching Xavier off guard, like the first notes of a song he hadn’t heard before but instantly liked. He turned, his breath hitching for a moment. The man standing near the pantry door seemed out of place, his presence almost too vivid for the muted space around him.

His complexion was warm, golden-brown, the soft overhead light catching his skin in a way that made it glow faintly, like sunlight filtering through autumn leaves. His clean-shaven face was an arresting mix of sharp angles and gentle lines—a strong jaw balanced by the curve of full lips that seemed always on the verge of a smile. Neatly cropped waves framed his face, dark and precise, their clean edges giving him a polished, effortless look.

And then there was his hoodie—a deep red that hugged the breadth of his shoulders and hinted at a toned physique. The color was striking against his skin, a deliberate pop of brightness in an otherwise dull room. As he shifted slightly, the fabric moved with him, effortless and confident. Xavier’s gaze flicked up to meet his eyes—warm, deep brown, and disarmingly open.

There was something magnetic about him, something Xavier couldn’t quite name. Noel wasn’t just handsome—he was captivating, pleasing to the senses in a way that felt almost unfair. His smile, when it came, was soft and inviting, the kind that could melt some of the ice Xavier had worked so hard to build around himself. Xavier hated how easily he noticed.

“Need a hand?” Noel asked again, his words laced with a smooth, easy charm, like he had all the time in the world.

Xavier swallowed hard, forcing himself to snap out of it. “I’m good,” he said, though his voice came out rougher than he’d intended.

Noel didn’t move, still watching him with that open, unbothered expression—like Xavier was the only person in the room worth paying attention to.

Damn him for that, Xavier thought bitterly, already feeling warmth creeping up his neck.

He adjusted the boxes against his chest, his movements stiff. “I’m good,” he repeated, this time more clipped.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help,” Noel replied easily. He stepped forward and reached for one of the boxes. His fingers brushed lightly against Xavier’s hand, and for a moment, Xavier froze.

“I’m Noel, by the way,” he added, his voice casual but disarmingly kind.

Xavier hesitated, unaccustomed to this kind of easy familiarity. Finally, he said, “Xavier,” his voice softer this time, almost cautious.

Together, they carried the boxes into the pantry. Noel worked with quiet efficiency, his movements natural and deliberate, like he’d been volunteering here for years rather than minutes. He fit into the space effortlessly, and Xavier couldn’t help but notice.

“New volunteer?” Xavier asked when the silence stretched too long.

“Yeah,” Noel replied with a nod, stacking cans neatly on a shelf. “I figured the holidays are a good time to give back. You’ve been here a while, haven’t you? You seem like a regular.”

Xavier shrugged. “About a year.” He turned back to his work, hoping to redirect the conversation. But Noel’s presence lingered—steady and warm—and something about it unsettled Xavier in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

“I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, then,” Noel said lightly, his voice smooth and even, carrying the faintest hint of a smile.

Xavier didn’t respond, but as Noel turned to leave, a strange warmth settled in his chest. It was faint, almost unfamiliar, but it lingered—something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Building Bridges

Over the next few weeks, Noel became part of the shelter’s rhythm, slipping into place like he belonged there. He and Xavier often worked side by side, serving meals, sorting through donations, and talking quietly with residents who needed someone to listen. Noel seemed to bring a natural calm to the space—kind to everyone but never pushy, always offering help but knowing when to step back.

“You okay?”

Noel’s voice broke the silence, and Xavier turned to find him standing nearby. He hadn’t even heard him approach.

Xavier shrugged, unsure how to answer. “Yeah. I guess.”

Noel sat down across from him, his hands resting easily on his knees. “Christmas has always been my favorite time of year,” he said after a moment, his voice soft. “What about you?”

Xavier’s jaw tightened. He looked back out the window. “Not really.”

“Family stuff?” Noel asked gently, his tone free of judgment.

Xavier hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.” He took a deep breath. “You ever feel like the holidays just… make everything worse? Like you’re supposed to be happy, but all it does is remind you of what you don’t have?”

Noel’s expression turned thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I used to feel that way.”

Xavier glanced at him, surprised. “How’d you get past it?”

“I made new traditions,” Noel replied. “Found ways to make the holidays my own. Took a while, but eventually, I found people to share them with.”

Xavier looked down at his hands, Noel’s words sitting heavy in his chest. He didn’t respond, but something about the conversation left a small crack in the walls he’d built around himself.

A Christmas Invitation

When Noel invited Xavier to his friend’s Christmas dinner, Xavier’s immediate response was no.

“It’s just dinner,” Noel said, smiling that easy, patient smile of his. “No pressure.”

Somehow, “no pressure” had turned into Xavier sitting stiffly at a long dining table surrounded by strangers. The room hummed with life—laughter rising and falling like music, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic scrape of silverware against plates as stories unfolded between bites of food. The air was thick with warmth, rich with the familiar scents of roasted ham, sweet potatoes glazed with brown sugar, and spiced cider. It was the kind of meal that could make a person feel at home.

For Xavier, though, it was different. The happiness around him felt foreign, like a song he couldn’t quite learn the words to. Every smile, every easy laugh, only sharpened the loneliness he’d worked so hard to bury. He sat near the edge of his chair, back straight and shoulders drawn tight, as if slouching might somehow expose how out of place he felt. Every breath felt deliberate. Every motion careful, like one wrong move might disrupt the invisible rhythm of the evening.

The table stretched impossibly long in his mind, filled with people who paired off into small, seamless conversations. Xavier felt like an island, surrounded by waves of chatter that never quite reached him. He hovered his fork over his plate, more focused on avoiding attention than the food in front of him.

“Xavier, right?”

The voice startled him—gentle, but unexpected. He turned to find a woman with deep dimples and a kind smile gesturing toward a bowl of green beans. “Could you pass those down for me?”

Xavier blinked before nodding quickly, mumbling a soft, “Sure.” As he handed her the dish, his gaze lifted for just a moment, and he caught Noel’s eyes across the table.

Noel was watching him—watching over him, really—with a small, steady smile. It wasn’t loud or showy, but it carried something solid, a quiet message that Xavier understood instantly: You’re doing fine.

That single look chipped away at the tightness in his chest, and for the first time that evening, Xavier felt like he could breathe.

Noel didn’t stop there. Throughout dinner, his presence became an anchor, weaving Xavier into the night without effort or expectation. He introduced Xavier to others casually, as if he’d always been part of the group.

“You’ve got to hear about the work Xavier does at the shelter,” Noel said suddenly, his voice breaking through the hum of conversation. “He’s practically a saint over there.”

Xavier’s head shot up, his face heating. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Noel cut him off, grinning as he pointed across the table. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

It wasn’t just Noel’s words but how he said them—confident and matter-of-fact, like Xavier’s worth was undeniable. Noel never let the attention linger long enough to make Xavier squirm, redirecting the conversation as smoothly as it had begun. When someone cracked a joke and Xavier’s laugh came out quieter than intended, Noel caught it and threw him a glance—one eyebrow raised, a half-smile tugging at his lips. It was as if they were sharing some secret, a small joke just for the two of them.

Whenever Xavier’s gaze fell back to his plate, Noel found subtle ways to pull him back into the fold. A question here. A glance there. Little moments that kept Xavier from slipping back into himself completely.

And slowly—slowly—it began to work.

The smells of cinnamon, cider, and brown sugar no longer felt overwhelming. The laughter lost its sharp edges, folding into the room like an embrace. At one point, someone handed Xavier a plate of cornbread that was so good it almost made him sigh out loud. He hummed softly in appreciation, and when he looked up, Noel was smirking knowingly.

“Good, right?” Noel’s voice was low, meant only for him.

Xavier nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah. It’s… really good.”

Noel’s smile widened into something soft and satisfied, the kind of expression that made Xavier’s throat tighten with a warmth he wasn’t used to. He looked away quickly, the corners of his mouth twitching against his will.

By the time dessert arrived—a pie so perfectly golden it could have graced the cover of a magazine—Xavier felt the weight in his chest begin to lift. He wasn’t fully comfortable, not yet, but he no longer felt like a ghost haunting the table. The laughter and voices swirled around him, and for once, he let himself exist in it.

Noel leaned closer across the table, his voice cutting through the noise effortlessly but softly. “You okay?”

Xavier glanced up, meeting Noel’s gaze. There was no pity in his expression, just quiet care—like Noel had been holding out a hand this whole time, patient and steady, until Xavier was ready to take it.

For the first time all night, the words didn’t feel like a lie. “Yeah,” Xavier said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I think I am.”

Noel’s grin spread wider, his eyes crinkling just slightly at the edges. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, Xavier understood what it felt like to be seen—to be looked at as if he belonged.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

Later, as the evening wound down, Xavier found himself alone in the living room, staring at the glowing Christmas tree.

“You survived,” Noel teased softly as he walked up behind him.

Xavier smirked faintly, not turning around. “Barely.”

Noel stepped closer, his voice gentle but serious now. “I’m glad you came. You deserve to feel part of something.”

Xavier swallowed, his chest tight. He turned to face Noel, meeting his gaze.

“Look up,” Noel murmured, his voice low, barely more than a breath.

Xavier’s brow knit in confusion, but he tilted his head back, his gaze following Noel’s. The moment his eyes landed on the small sprig of mistletoe dangling above them, the world seemed to pause. The delicate green leaves swayed gently, a whisper of motion against the quiet hum of the room. For a heartbeat, it was as though the air itself had stilled, waiting.

Xavier’s breath caught, his pulse quickening as his gaze dropped back to Noel, whose face was already impossibly close. The soft glow of the Christmas lights reflected in Noel’s eyes—deep, warm, and full of something Xavier wasn’t sure he deserved but wanted anyway.

Before he could think, Noel leaned in.

The kiss was soft, unhurried—like the first snowfall of winter, gentle in its descent yet stirring something profound in its wake. Noel’s lips brushed against Xavier’s with a care that unraveled him, a sweetness that spread warmth through every inch of his body. It lingered, slow and deliberate, as if Noel were trying to tell him something without words, as though every second was meant to be savored.

Xavier’s chest ached with it, the kiss pulling at places he thought had gone numb—places he’d long since buried beneath layers of loneliness and doubt. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like this, seen him like this, and the realization made him feel both weightless and completely undone.

When Noel finally pulled back, the absence was immediate, like the sudden chill after stepping away from a fire. But then Noel smiled—soft, genuine, the kind of smile that could thaw the deepest frost—and it anchored Xavier right there in the moment.

“Merry Christmas,” Noel whispered, his voice warm and intimate, like a secret meant only for them.

Xavier blinked, stunned, as though the world had only just come back into focus. His lips twitched faintly before curving into a small, fragile smile—one that felt like the beginning of something new.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured back, his voice barely steady.

Outside, the snow continued to fall in quiet flurries, but in that small, glowing room, surrounded by golden light and mistletoe, everything felt still, perfect, and impossibly full of promise.

A Moment of Trust

Over the next few days, Noel and Xavier’s time together began to feel like its own small tradition—one made of laughter, warmth, and moments that melted into each other. The snow fell steadily outside Noel’s apartment window, frosting the city in white, but inside, their world glowed with golden light and quiet affection.

One evening, Xavier stood at the counter, determinedly rolling dough while Noel sifted flour nearby. Xavier’s brows knit in concentration as he tried to get perfectly shaped cookies, his lips twitching in frustration.

“You’re way too serious about this,” Noel teased, brushing flour from his hands.

Xavier shot him a mock glare. “Don’t distract me. These stars are going to look professional.”

Noel smirked as he stepped closer. “Let me help you with that.” Before Xavier could protest, Noel reached around him, his arms sliding over Xavier’s to guide his hands.

“You’re just showing off,” Xavier grumbled, though his voice softened as Noel’s fingers curled over his own.

Noel chuckled softly, his breath warm against Xavier’s ear. “And you’re just bad at this.”

That was all it took for Xavier to snap—he grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it straight at Noel’s chest. The gasp that followed was so comically dramatic that Xavier doubled over laughing, but Noel was quick to retaliate, smearing flour across Xavier’s cheek.

“Okay, okay! Truce!” Xavier said through his laughter, hands up in surrender as they both collapsed against the counter, breathless and dusted in white.

Noel wiped his hands clean on a towel, smiling at Xavier with a softness that made the moment settle deep in his chest. “You’ve got something…” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush a streak of flour off Xavier’s cheek with his thumb.

Xavier’s laughter faded into a quiet stillness, his heart thudding softly as Noel’s thumb lingered for a second too long. For the first time in years, Xavier didn’t pull away.

The days seemed to stretch longer, as though the snow itself had conspired to slow time just for them, wrapping the world in its hushed embrace. One night, after meticulously stringing lights around the small living room, they stepped back, shoulder to shoulder, to take it all in.

The apartment was transformed, glowing with a golden warmth that felt alive. The Christmas lights twinkled softly, casting tiny reflections on the frosted windowpanes, where snowflakes clung and sparkled like scattered stars. Shadows from the garlands they’d hung swayed gently along the walls, moving in rhythm with the flickering bulbs, while the room seemed to hum with a quiet, almost sacred energy.

Noel tilted his head, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. “Not bad,” he murmured, the pride in his voice understated but unmistakable.

Xavier didn’t respond at first. His gaze was fixed on the room, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere—to the way the lights softened everything, blurring the sharp edges of reality and wrapping it in something impossibly tender. The tree they’d decorated together stood in the corner, its ornaments catching the glow and reflecting it back like tiny beacons of joy.

“It’s perfect,” Xavier finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Noel turned slightly, watching him. “Yeah,” he said, his tone softer now, the words carrying more weight than just agreement. “It is.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The room, bathed in light and warmth, felt like a world all their own, as though nothing outside the apartment could reach them here. Xavier let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the quiet magic of the space settle into him.

Behind the glow of the lights, the snow continued to fall outside, slow and steady, blanketing the city in silence. It was as though time had stopped, leaving only this—the golden light, the warmth of their closeness, and the quiet certainty that, for the first time in a long while, everything felt just right.

They settled onto the couch beneath a knitted blanket, mugs of spiced eggnog warming their hands. Xavier took a careful sip, the creaminess mingling with just enough nutmeg to make it feel like Christmas itself. The room was silent except for the hum of the heater and the quiet murmur of the television.

“What’s this movie called again?” Xavier asked, snuggling deeper into Noel’s side as the glow of the Christmas lights spilled across the room.

“A Diva’s Christmas Carol,” Noel said proudly, as though he’d just revealed the crown jewel of cinematic history. “It’s iconic. You’ll thank me later.”

Xavier smirked but didn’t argue, letting himself settle against Noel’s chest. The steady rhythm of Noel’s heartbeat thrummed softly beneath his sweater, blending with the smooth sound of Vanessa Williams’ voice commanding the screen.

Noel, on the other hand, was fully absorbed—eyes bright and alive, like a child rediscovering their favorite toy after years of forgetting it existed. Every so often, he whispered a line seconds before the character said it, his tone filled with reverence and delight.

“‘Don’t worry, darling, the world can always use another diva.’” Noel delivered the line perfectly, his grin widening as the words echoed on-screen.

Xavier raised a brow, amused. “You know the lines by heart?”

“It’s practically scripture,” Noel said with a shrug, his grin so wide it was contagious. “This was the Christmas movie in my house growing up. My mom and I would watch it every single year—no exceptions. Haven’t seen it in forever, but…” He trailed off, like the memories were too sacred to be touched. “Turns out I still remember every word.”

Xavier snorted softly, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Noel said, feigning offense as he held up a hand. “Watch and learn.” He hushed the room dramatically just as Vanessa Williams’ Ebony Scrooge rolled her eyes and snapped, “If I wanted your opinion, I’d give it to you.”

Xavier couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. “She’s ruthless.”

“Ruthless and fabulous,” Noel corrected, pointing at the screen with conviction. “Ebony Scrooge was the blueprint. She walked so every diva after her could run.”

Xavier shook his head again, his smirk softening into something more genuine. He didn’t know what it was about Noel—maybe the way he talked about the movie with so much unguarded joy—but it made him feel something warm, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Safe. At ease.

The movie carried on, and so did Noel’s running commentary. At one point, he leaned down, whispering dramatically, “‘People are always telling me to change. I’ve tried that. I just get confused.’”

Xavier let out a quiet laugh, his head resting against Noel’s chest. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Noel replied, mock indignation dripping from his tone. “This movie is a masterpiece. I told you, I’ll die on that hill.”

Xavier tilted his head back to look up at him, and for a moment, the playful teasing stilled. Noel’s smile lingered, soft and fond, as his hand paused its tracing along Xavier’s arm and settled lightly against his bicep. Without saying a word, Noel leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Xavier’s forehead—soft and lingering, like a quiet promise.

Xavier blinked, his chest tightening at the unexpected sweetness of it. The warmth of Noel’s lips lingered even after he pulled back, and the world seemed to slow in the glow of the lights.

“You know,” Noel said quietly, his voice lower now, “it’s been years since I watched this, but I still remember every word. Not because of the movie itself, but because it was ours. My mom and I didn’t have much growing up, but this? Sitting on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, watching Ebony Scrooge turn her life around? That was Christmas for us. It made everything feel… magical, even when it wasn’t.”

Xavier’s chest tightened, the quiet confession slipping through the space between them like a secret too precious to be spoken aloud. For a beat, he didn’t respond—he just reached up and rested his hand lightly over Noel’s. It was a small gesture, but Noel’s hand squeezed back, grounding them both.

They stayed like that, wrapped together in the warmth of each other and the glow of the Christmas lights. The movie’s final scenes of redemption played out on-screen, snow falling gently as a choir sang softly in the background. Noel whispered the last line as though it were a prayer, his voice so low it was almost meant for himself:

“‘I don’t care about the presents or the parties. All I want for Christmas is to know that I matter.’”

Xavier’s gaze flickered up to him, his throat tight. Noel’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen, but the soft set of his mouth said enough.

“You do,” Xavier said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Noel turned to him, surprised, and for a heartbeat, they just looked at each other. The space between them seemed to hum with something unspoken—something fragile and real. Slowly, Noel’s hand slid to Xavier’s cheek, his thumb brushing gently against his skin.

When Noel leaned down to kiss him, it was soft and unhurried—a brush of lips that felt like the first snowfall, delicate yet profound. The kiss lingered, a quiet exchange of warmth that seeped into the spaces Xavier had long thought frozen. It tasted of hope, of new beginnings, and the fragile promise of something precious unfolding between them—something neither of them dared name but both were ready to believe in.

When they broke apart, Xavier let out a small sigh, his eyes closing as he rested his head once more against Noel’s chest.

“You’re really into this movie,” Xavier teased softly, though his voice was a murmur now.

Noel pressed a kiss to the top of Xavier’s head, his voice dropping to something intimate. “I’m really into this moment.”

Xavier tilted his head slightly, just enough to look at him again. For a beat, they stared at each other, the Christmas lights casting halos of red, green, and gold across their faces.

Noel smiled, brushing a lock of Xavier’s hair away gently. “Merry Christmas, Xavier.”

“Merry Christmas, Noel,” Xavier whispered, his voice rough around the edges.

Outside, the snow fell steadily in the quiet night, blanketing the world in white. But inside, wrapped up in blankets and each other, they stayed there—lost in their own quiet perfection, the weight of the world forgotten for just a little while.

On Christmas Eve, Noel pulled Xavier outside onto the fire escape, where the city below glittered like a thousand tiny stars. He’d wrapped them both in blankets, the frosty air nipping at their cheeks as they shared a bottle of wine and passed it back and forth like teenagers sneaking drinks.

“You’re shivering,” Xavier murmured after a while, his gaze lingering on the flush spreading across Noel’s cheeks.

Noel grinned through a visible shiver. “Maybe a little.”

“Then let’s go back inside, drama queen,” Xavier teased, laughing softly as he tugged Noel back toward the warmth of the apartment.

Once inside, Noel turned to face him, his smile softening. “You know, this has been my best Christmas in a long time.”

Xavier paused, searching Noel’s face. The lights in the living room flickered in their reflection against his eyes, softening the edges of his expression into something tender.

“Me too,” Xavier admitted quietly.

Noel stepped closer, their breaths mingling in the soft glow of the lights. When he kissed Xavier this time, it wasn’t tentative or questioning. It was a kiss that said everything they couldn’t put into words—thank you for being here, for letting me in, for turning these cold days into something I’ll never forget.

The kiss deepened as Noel’s hands moved up Xavier’s arms, pulling him closer, while Xavier’s fingers curled into Noel’s sweater as though anchoring himself to the moment. When they broke apart, both breathless, Noel smiled against Xavier’s lips.

“Merry Christmas, Xavier.”

Xavier’s throat tightened, a wave of warmth rushing over him. “Merry Christmas, Noel.”

That night, they curled up in bed beneath a pile of blankets, their limbs tangled together. The glow from the living room lights crept through the doorway, spilling soft gold across the sheets. Noel traced slow circles against Xavier’s back, his touch feather-light but grounding, as if he knew Xavier was still learning how to accept this kind of peace.

“Are you happy?” Noel asked softly, breaking the quiet.

Xavier’s eyes opened, and he studied Noel’s face in the half-light. He hadn’t let himself think about that question in a long time—happiness had felt like something for other people. But here, now, in the quiet warmth of Noel’s embrace, it didn’t feel so out of reach.

“Yeah,” Xavier whispered, his voice a little raw. “I think I am.”

Noel’s smile was slow and tender, and as Xavier laid his head back against his chest, he let himself believe it. Outside, the snow fell in a world that finally felt quiet, but inside, Christmas was theirs—a tapestry of golden lights, eggnog-stained laughter, and kisses shared under blankets of warmth.

For the first time in years, Xavier felt like he had a home—here, in Noel’s arms, surrounded by the magic of something real.

One evening, as they sat together on Noel’s couch, Xavier finally spoke the truth he’d been holding onto.

“I was seventeen when my family found out,” Xavier said quietly, his voice hollow as if the words had been buried for years. “My cousin found some messages—something private—and showed them to my parents. It didn’t take long before the whole church knew. My dad wouldn’t even look at me. My mom…” He swallowed hard, staring at his hands. “She said she loved me, but she loved God more. She told me I was sick—that I could be saved if I tried hard enough.”

Xavier’s voice wavered, but he didn’t stop. “The next Sunday, my pastor called me out during service—prayed for me like I wasn’t even there. My family sat in the front row, nodding along. They didn’t say a word when I packed my things and left. No one did.”

He let out a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the window as snow fell silently outside. “The holidays haven’t been mine since then. It’s just… another time of year to remind me I don’t have a place to go.”

Noel took his hand, his thumb brushing softly over Xavier’s knuckles. “That doesn’t have to be the end of your story,” Noel said. “You get to make new ones. And you’re not alone anymore.”

Xavier looked up at him, something breaking inside him—something that had been locked away for too long. Slowly, he leaned in, and Noel met him halfway.

The kiss was different than before—raw, open, full of all the hurt they couldn’t quite name. It was desperate, like Noel was trying to pour something into Xavier that could make it all better.

Xavier felt the ache in his chest release, the tension melting as he sank deeper into the kiss. It was as if they were pouring themselves into each other, and Xavier had never felt so seen.

Noel broke the kiss only long enough to pull his sweater off, his breath ragged.

Xavier didn’t hesitate this time, his hands reaching up to trace along the planes of Noel’s chest, his fingertips following the subtle contours of muscle, savoring the smoothness of his skin. He couldn’t explain the hunger that rose inside him, a need to map every inch of Noel’s body and commit it to memory.

Noel gasped against his lips, arching into the touch. “You just don’t know how badly I want you, right now,” he murmured.

Xavier’s eyes opened, and his fingers paused their movement.

“I really want you, X,” Noel repeated, his voice steadier this time, a gentle reminder that it was okay to want.

Xavier’s throat tightened, and he nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. “Okay,” he breathed, his pulse quickening as he leaned in for another kiss.

As their mouths collided, the desperation returned, a desire so acute it left them both breathless. Their tongues danced, hungry and eager, the heat between them growing with every gasp, every touch.

Noel’s hand tangled in Xavier’s locs, pulling him closer, deeper, and Xavier’s head spun, his body humming with need. His fingers worked their way down Noel’s torso, teasing the edge of his waistband until they found his dick, already straining against the fabric.

Noel moaned softly, his hips thrusting up, searching for contact. Xavier obliged, stroking him through his jeans.
“Please,” Noel gasped, his voice thick. “I need—”

“Shhh.” Xavier pressed a finger to Noel’s lips, silencing him. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, Xavier undid the buttons of Noel’s pants, his fingers working deftly until the fabric parted. He slid Noel’s boxers down, freeing his dick, already leaking and flushed.

Xavier’s tongue darted out, licking his lips, his own arousal building as he stroked Noel, relishing the weight and warmth of him. Noel’s hips rolled upward, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Damn, I’m so hard,” Noel breathed, his voice ragged.

Xavier’s smirk spread wider, and he lowered his head.

“Fuck.”

Noel’s curse came out low and hoarse as Xavier took him into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip, lapping at the pre-cum, before taking him deeper. Noel’s grip on his locs tightened, and Xavier’s moans vibrating around him, his own arousal aching, desperate for friction.

“God, Xavier,” Noel groaned, his voice catching as Xavier hollowed his cheeks, sucking him harder.

Noel’s hips rocked, thrusting up into his mouth, and Xavier took him in, relaxing his jaw to take him deeper. He gripped Noel’s thighs, fingers digging into firm muscle as he picked up the pace.

Xavier’s mouth worked faster, his tongue pressing against the underside of Noel’s shaft, teasing and sucking. His senses were flooded with the taste and scent of him—the musky sweetness, the saltiness of sweat and pre-cum, the way Noel’s dick seemed to throb and swell with every stroke of his tongue.

“Wait, wait,” Noel breathed, his voice strained. “Stop.”

Xavier paused, pulling off him slowly, his eyes questioning. “What’s wrong?”

Noel’s breath caught, his chest heaving. “Nothing, I just… Fuck, that feels too good.” He chuckled, and Xavier’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Noel shifted, rolling them over, and suddenly Xavier was the one flat on his back, looking up at him. Noel leaned down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, his hand stroking Xavier’s erection through his jeans.

“Let me take care of you too,” Noel murmured against his lips.

Xavier shuddered, a moan escaping him as Noel undid the buttons of his pants, freeing him from his boxers. Noel’s fingers closed around his meat, stroking him slowly, and Xavier’s head fell back against the couch cushions, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Tell me what you want,” Noel whispered, his lips tracing the shell of Xavier’s ear.

Xavier’s breath caught, his hips rolling, aching for more friction. “You,” he choked out, his voice rough. “Just… fuck, I just want you.”

Noel’s grip tightened, and Xavier’s eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back against the pillows as the pleasure built. He thrust his hips upward, searching for release, but Noel slowed his movements, drawing it out, teasing and torturing him.

“Please,” Xavier gasped, his voice barely a whisper.

“Not yet,” Noel murmured, his voice low, almost predatory.

Xavier writhed, his dick throbbing, the tension building. Noel’s hand worked faster, alternating stroking and sucking him, the pressure building until it was almost too much. Xavier’s vision blurred, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“My God, you’re beautiful like this,” Noel murmured, his thumb grazing the tip, sending a shiver of pleasure through Xavier’s body.

Before Xavier could respond, Noel flipped him onto his stomach, tugging his jeans and boxers off.

Xavier’s heart pounded, his skin burning wherever Noel touched him. He’d never been so exposed, so vulnerable, and it sent a thrill through him that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

Noel’s hand slipped beneath him, grasping his shaft, and Xavier’s breath caught, his eyes closing. Noel stroked him as his tongue traced a passionate love letter on his hole. His touch slow and deliberate, every motion a deliberate act of worship. Xavier’s body arched, his hips grinding against the couch, the friction delicious and agonizing.

“Don’t stop,” Xavier gasped, his voice hoarse.

Noel’s grip tightened, his strokes picking up speed, and Xavier’s pulse raced, his body aching for release.

“You want more?” Noel asked, his voice rough with need.

Xavier bit his lip, his breath stuttering. “Hell yeah.”

Noel pulled away, and Xavier whined softly, the sudden loss of contact leaving him desperate.

“I’m right here,” Noel murmured, and Xavier’s eyes flickered open, just in time to see him reach for a bottle of lube.

“You sure you want to go further with me?” Noel asked, his gaze searching Xavier’s face.

“More than sure,” Xavier breathed, his voice shaking.

Noel squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and traced the cleft of Xavier’s ass. Xavier shivered, his body tensing instinctively.

“Shh, it’s okay baby… Relax,” Noel coaxed, his voice low, soothing.

Slowly, Noel slid one finger inside him, the intrusion strange and foreign but not unpleasant.

“That okay?” Noel asked, his voice soft.

“Mhm,” Xavier managed, his body relaxing into the sensation.

Noel worked him open slowly, gently, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm. The pleasure began to build, a dull ache, a craving for more.

“Fuck,” Xavier gasped, his breath hitching as Noel added another finger, stretching him wider.

“That’s it,” Noel murmured, his free hand stroking Xavier’s dick, matching the pace of his fingers. “So good for me.”

Xavier’s eyes fluttered shut, his body moving with the rhythm, his hips rolling back against Noel’s hand. He could feel his muscles relaxing, giving way to the pleasure, and the pressure was building, coiling tighter, begging to be released.

“Oh my God,” Xavier groaned, his voice breaking. “I need… please, I need—”

“I know,” Noel soothed, his free hand gripping Xavier’s hip, pulling him closer.

With one last thrust, Noel’s fingers curled, and a wave of pleasure hit him so hard he saw stars. His entire body shook, and his vision blurred, the orgasm ripping through him.

“Holy fuck,” Xavier cried, his voice wrecked.

“That’s it,” Noel urged, his fingers still working, coaxing him through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, oh God, I—” Xavier’s words cut off in a choked cry as the pleasure crashed over him, his entire body trembling.

It was more than just an orgasm—it was a catharsis, a release so intense and overwhelming it felt like he was being shattered and reborn at the same time. He’d never experienced anything like it, and when it finally faded, leaving him boneless and spent, his entire body was trembling.

Noel’s arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him close, and he could feel the hard length of Noel’s dick pressed against his ass.

“Are you ready?” Noel’s voice was rough with need.

Xavier swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “Yes, I want to feel you inside of me.”

The tip of Noel’s dick teased the entrance of his hole, and then, slowly, he glided inside. Xavier gasped, his eyes fluttering shut, the sensation overwhelming.

“God, you’re tight,” Noel groaned, his hips rolling, sliding deeper inside him.

“Fuck, you’re stretching me out,” Xavier breathed, his body yielding, opening for him.

Noel’s hand moved down his body, wrapping around his shaft, stroking him. The pressure built again, the pleasure sharp and sweet.

“Oh… Right there,” Xavier gasped, his voice breaking as Noel’s dick brushed his prostate, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“Like that?” Noel’s voice was strained, his hips moving faster, his grip tightening.

“Fuck, yes,” Xavier cried, his hips rolling, grinding against Noel’s dick.

They grooved together, their bodies in sync, the pleasure building with every thrust, every stroke. Noel’s lips pressed against his neck, his breath hot against his skin.

“I’m close,” Xavier choked out, his body tense, the pleasure almost unbearable.

“So am I,” Noel gasped, his hips rolling, driving deeper inside him.

“Fuck, oh God, I—”

Xavier’s words cut off as the orgasm hit him, crashing over him in waves. His entire body shook, his vision blurring, the pleasure so intense he couldn’t breathe.

Noel’s grip tightened, and with a strangled cry, he came, his dick pulsing inside him. The heat and pressure were enough to send Xavier over the edge, and he collapsed against the couch, his body writhing, trembling.

“Holy shit,” Noel gasped, his body slumping, spent.

The room was silent except for their ragged breathing, and Xavier couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so sated, so utterly blissed-out.

When Noel pulled out, Xavier winced, his body already sore.

“Are you okay?” Noel’s voice was soft, his hands gentle as they helped Xavier roll onto his side.

“Yeah,” Xavier mumbled, his eyes closing. “I’m just…”

“Perfect,” Noel murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Xavier snorted, but he didn’t argue. His body felt boneless, and even the idea of moving seemed too much to manage.

Noel reached over, tugging the blankets up around them, the soft weight settling like a cocoon. Xavier hummed in quiet contentment, shifting to nestle closer against Noel’s chest, his breath warm against the curve of his collarbone.

“Thank you,” Xavier murmured, his voice barely audible, muffled against the comforting heat of Noel’s skin.

“For what?” Noel whispered back, his tone gentle, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace of the moment.

Xavier didn’t answer. His breathing had already begun to slow, his eyelids drifting shut as sleep took hold, pulling him under like a soft tide. Noel’s arm curled protectively around him, holding him close, his fingertips tracing slow, absent-minded patterns along Xavier’s back.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the world outside—a soft snowfall against the window, the glow of Christmas lights casting golden halos across the room. Wrapped together in the stillness, there was no need for words. Vulnerability gave way to something deeper, something unspoken yet profoundly felt.

In Noel’s arms, Xavier found a rhythm he hadn’t known he needed—a quiet trust, a shared warmth, and the tender possibility of healing. It was the kind of closeness that made everything else fade away, leaving behind only the simple truth of this moment: they were here, together, and for the first time in a long time, Xavier felt safe.