Entitled . HS

TWENTY-ONE. *

Cutting down a fresh tree ranked as one of my top ten Christmas memories of all time. I only had a few that beat it. Part of the reason it wasn't in the top five had to do with the fact that the memory included Harris. I wasn't so sure that he was going to be a person in my memory reel long term, so giving him a top five moment seemed dangerous- like every tree I looked at from that point forward was going to remind me of the time he drove me to a Christmas tree farm and wrapped me up in the idea that I could have more than what I had always had with my family. A real tree, with matching decorations and fancy lights. And enough money to stack presents underneath it, like we stacked under his last night.

This morning, we woke up early. Harris had made us a nest out in the living room so we could sleep next to the tree, beneath its glow. It was also fun to change the light color and turn his living room into the red-light district while we wrestled around naked. He said something about working our way through all the colors, just to see which one we liked best. There was very little to complain about this morning, except the way that sleeping on the floor with little padding had destroyed my back.

"Morning, baby," he cooed next to me. Apparently sleeping on the floor had not caused him to feel like he'd been hit by a truck.

"It's so eeeeeearly," I whined. "Why are we awake?"

"Because sleeping on the floor was an awful idea."

"Your back feels like shit, too. Huh?" I asked him and he shook his head.

"No. I actually like sleeping on the floor. The daylight is what got to me. I can't sleep in a room where the sun rises through the windows." After he said it, I thought back to all the times I've stayed over and how his room was pitch black when he slept. The dark walls and the blackout curtains always left me wondering what time it was. The only times that he had woken up early were the times that we were sleeping somewhere that he couldn't block the sun out.

"Well, I'm not sure if I would rather have your problem or mine," I say, rubbing my back.

"Come with me," he said, reaching down to offer me a hand as he stood up in all his naked glory. His hair was falling out of the bun he had put it up in, but it was effortlessly perfect as the tendrils fell over his face. I, on the other hand, didn't need to look in a mirror to know that my hair, also up in a bun, was a complete disaster.

"How do you look like that?" I asked him as I followed his muscular backside into the bedroom.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I'd rather help your sore back than keep arguing over who wakes up looking hotter." That was easy- he won. "Lay down on the bed. On your stomach." I did as he said and he leaned down to kiss me. "I'll be right back."

As he went to his bathroom, and rummaged through some cabinets, I collected three pillows to prop under my shoulders and head, making the perfect massage table out of his bed. "I need you to move for a minute."

"I just got everything perfect."

"I don't want to get oil everywhere," he said and with that, I gladly sat up. He laid a large towel-like blanket down, then had me lay down on top of it. "Get all your pillows arranged, then I'll put a towel over them," he said.

"Are you planning to just pour the whole bottle of oil over me?"

"Not really, but Guin made me buy fucking expensive sheets and I'd rather not ruin them." I got all adjusted and he crawled up onto the bed. He straddled my thighs and sat down. I could tell that had put on boxer briefs when he had gone to get towels. It was a little disappointing, but if I wanted to actually enjoy my massage long enough to benefit from it, I needed to not be distracted by his cock the entire time.