#gavin baker

Soaking up the affection like a cat curled in front of a cozy fire, Gavin closes his eyes with a little sigh and reaches down to twine his fingers in Fritz’s. “I love watching storms.”

“And ignoring paperwork, I see.”

Gavin doesn’t have to see Fritz to know he’s looking pointedly at the abandoned case file on the swing. Oops. Deciding that distraction tactics are the best way to save his image as the Perpetually Hardworking Lawyer, he raises Fritz’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of his knuckles. “Riley is a Grinch for assigning so much busywork on Christmas Eve,” he murmurs against Fritz’s soft skin.

Fritz chuckles, though it’s a bit breathless and stuttery and accompanied by a little shiver that tells Gavin his little underhanded tactic did its job. “Says the guy who pitched a fit because I put up Christmas decorations while he was staying late at the office. Again.”

“Mmm. That’s because you did it wrong.” Ignoring the lighthearted you-work-too-much jibe, Gavin gathers Fritz’s other hand in his own and covers it in soft kisses. “Honestly, darling, you have no concept of interior design.” Which is absolutely, objectively true. Who puts red Santa ornaments in a room with predominantly cool tones? Atrocious.

Fritz’s breath catches in his throat and he gives a little moan that makes Gavin feel nice and toasty despite the chill of the evening. “You better be nice to me or Santa won’t stuff your stocking,” he says, voice low and thick with desire.

Now it’s Gavin’s turn to shiver as heat floods his groin. What a deliciously low blow. But two can play this game. Dropping Fritz’s hands, Gavin turns around as slowly and languidly as he can, keeping their bodies as flush as possible, then reaches up and strokes the back of his hand down Fritz’s pink tinged face. “Nice?” he says, pushing his lips into the little pout that he knows drives his boyfriend insane. “Oh honey. You should know by now that I’m always at the top of the naughty list.”

They don’t make it to the bedroom.

After bodily dragging Gavin back inside the inviting warmth of the house, Fritz throws him down in front of the Christmas tree and tears his robe off of him, muttering something about opening his present right here, right now. Gavin just grins and helpfully lifts his hips as Fritz divests him of his navy blue Armani lounge pants and tosses them carelessly over his shoulder. Moments later Joel streaks off in an orange blur toward the hall, and Gavin can guess where they landed.

Fritz must have been planning something like this before stepping foot onto the patio, because there’s a shiny brand new bottle of lube in his robe pocket. After slicking himself up he enters Gavin with minimal preparation. The pleasurable pain of the burn leaves him gasping and clawing at the carpet, back arched, needing more.

What starts as joyous, vigorous thrusting quickly eases into something slower, something sweeter. Fritz claims Gavin’s lips in a deep kiss, tracing his face with his fingertips as Gavin’s own hands skim and sweep along the broad planes of Fritz’s back. They sigh and moan into each other’s mouths, relishing in the taste of the other. Above them, the lights of the tree twinkle and glitter off the glass ornaments in a kaleidoscope of green and red and white and gold and silver. Light from the fireplace bathes them in a soft warm glow as the fire crackles and pops in accompaniment to the smooth Christmas jazz piping soft and low through the speakers.

After they’ve both achieved release, Fritz gathers up Gavin in a thick blanket and settles him on the sofa while he pads to the kitchen in all his naked glory to make them hot cocoa. Gavin watches him leave with heavy lidded eyes, so warm and content he slips into a light doze. It feels like only seconds later Fritz is pressing a giant mug into his hand, marshmallows spilling out of the top. Snatching a few escapees, Gavin pops them into his mouth as Fritz settles next to him on the couch, tucking Gavin into his side.

Gavin ends up drinking most of the cocoa. Fritz doesn’t seem to mind, leaning over to kiss the chocolate-tinged melted marshmallow mustache from his lips after he drains the mug. Apparently deciding that it’s safe to come out, Joel slinks back into the living room, stretches in front of the fireplace, and curls into a little orange ball. Gavin can hear him purring all the way from the couch.

He’s just about drifting off again, head slumped on Fritz’s shoulder, when Fritz pulls him onto his lap and kisses him long and soft and slow.

“Merry first Christmas, babe,” he whispers as he pulls back. His eyes are bright and glossy as he stares down at Gavin.

Smiling tiredly up at him, Gavin hums and snuggles into Fritz as much as he can. “Merry first Christmas, darling.”