They slept on the couch, Matt snuggled into Vic’s embrace, a thin afghan thrown over them both. The Christmas tree stayed lit all night, casting a flickering, multi-colored light that seeped into Vic’s brain to give him Technicolor dreams. Shortly after dawn, he felt Matt stir above him, then his lover’s warm mouth closed over one of Vic’s n*****s, tongue and teeth teasing the tender bud erect. Like a suckling babe, Matt kept the n****e in his mouth, playing with it, biting it, letting the sensations he caused slowly extract Vic from sleep. When he finally yawned awake, Matt let go of his n****e to plant a quick kiss on his chin. “There’s my man. Up and Adam, Vic. Santa’s been here.”
“Matty,” Vic growled. Anything more than that was pushing it—he didn’t believe in mornings, or rousing him
