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• Christmas Treats	By : Bloodysyren Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > Yaoi - Male/Male > Gojyo/Hakkai Views: 890 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
  Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki and I make no money from this story.

• Chapter List
  • 1-Christmas Treats
• • 1

• Mistletoe

  
  

  The house was decorated like us. There was red and green everywhere. It might be gross, but if semen was coloured and you brought a black light into our bedroom, man, it’d be like Christmas in there! There were green wreaths and red bows, it felt exactly like the holidays. There was mistletoe hanging from the doorframe and as you walked through the door, I decided to plant a sweet kiss on those cold, plump lips.

  
  

  You looked at me with that shocked, grateful look in your eyes and rested a hand on my cheek. I lunged for you and held you tight, pressing my head against your shoulder. I could feel your hand on the back of my head as you turned to plant a kiss on my temple. I held you at arms length and gazed into your eyes, I saw you looking back at me. You smiled a little and I kissed you again. You tasted like pine trees and fresh air. I love everything about you, your body, your mind, your heart, but mostly, I love your scent.

  
  

  Whenever you walk by, I almost always seize the opportunity to breathe in deeply, catching any whiff of your scent. Your body is overpowering sometimes. I catch myself staring at odd times, observing you do little tasks, like when you bend down to fetch something from the cupboard, how your calve muscles tense and relax as you straighten, or when you come out of the shower, wet and fresh, I love following the drops of water as they slide over your skin, into those little crevices that I love to touch so often.

   

  
  

  Cinnamon

  
  

  I sat on the couch and reclined with a good book and my favourite kind of green tea. You had been working in the yard all day doing goodness knows what. As I gazed out the window at the sunset, I heard the door glide shut and I knew that you were finished for the day. I turned back to my book and took another sip of green tea when my head jerked up at the familiar smell wafting in the dusky air. Cinnamon. I gingerly placed my cup down on the coffee table, replaced the marker in my book and slowly rose from the couch, sauntering towards the bedroom.

  
  

  When I reached the doorway and pushed the wooden barricade aside, I found you, lounging on the bed, hair splayed across the pillows and your chest, body shimmering from all the hard work you had done that day, a sultry smile and a cinnamon stick between your teeth.

  
  

  “So, how about we spice it up a bit in here, huh?” You asked me in that seductive voice. I clicked the door shut behind me and walked over to you, removing the stick from between your teeth and kissing you hard. Every time we do this, it always sends shivers down my spine, but on this particular night an interesting thought crosses my mind. Cinnamon is the one spice that always reminds me of you. It is the one smell that can tingle my desire for you to life, and you never fail to surprise me. Right at that moment I was thinking about how you taste a lot like Christmas.

   

  
  

  Strawberries

  
  

  After a hard day’s gambling, I returned, a huge smile on my face, a few hundred dollars in my pocket, and a huge bouquet of roses in my hands. Bursting through the door, I was greeted by the smell of a hot, home-cooked meal and a warm hello from the most drop-dead gorgeous green-eyed beauty in the world. You had been slaving over the stove all day long, preparing a special meal for Christmas and when we finally sat down to dinner, the huge bouquet of roses placed by your bedside, all I could do was gaze into your eyes. You asked me what was wrong and I said that I had lost my appetite for dinner. I forced myself easily to consume all of what was in front of me, since you would say that I needed something and that it would do me good.

  
  

  Once all of the dishes were cleared and washed, I disappeared into the backyard to retrieve more wood for the fire that night. When I came back, all I could hear was your voice and the wood clattering to the floor. As I looked on without a voice, there you sat, on the floor in front of the fireplace with a pile of strawberries in your lap and a bowl of chocolate sauce in your hands.

  
  

  “Are you ready for dessert, Gojyo?”

  
  

  “I’m always ready for dessert, hun!”

  
  

  The wood was never put on the fire, but I got to eat one of my favourite foods. With one of my favourite desserts of course!

• • 1
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