Sequel to Don't Call Me Jonathan
It’s Christmas Eve, six months after Jon and Nathan uncovered the truth about their two families. High time to invite them all over for a Christmas dinner party at their house. But, as many people know, in a house full of loved ones, any number of things could go wrong. Especially when certain secrets are simmering in the background.
For starters, Nathan’s sister Jennifer has been acting off lately -- enough to raise concerns about a possible relapse. And then there’s Nathan’s newly discovered brother Taylor, suspiciously tight-lipped about his new boyfriend.
When the two families fail to connect on Christmas Eve, with awkward silences and sideways glances, there’s no telling what might happen once secrets start to surface left and right. It might take more than Jon’s cooking to save their evening. Can the opposites-attract magic of Jon and Nathan bring their families together? Or will everyone remember this Christmas for the wrong reasons?
The best part about owning a dog? The love you get when you walk through the door. Janice, our Boston Terrier, is no exception to that rule. If only the same could be said about that husband of mine today. You’d think that after sending him my wildly erotic photograph earlier, he’d be at the garage door waiting to rip my clothes off, but no.
Okay, judging from the smell, he’s been working his ass off all day in the kitchen. But even so, I was kind of hoping he’d be working my ass off now. The man sure is fit enough -- not to brag, but it’s a miracle I’m able to walk straight most days, really. All Jonathans in this house are always up for it. There was a time when I feared our sex life would lose some of its heat, but that’s years behind us. Even during Jon’s identity crisis, and its subsequent couples’ therapy, we managed to keep at it. The long and short of it is, I want Jon to feel good while making me feel good.
Whoever says romance in gay relationships is dead hasn’t met the two of us.
“Baby? Jon? Are you home?” I call out, but again, there’s no answer.
Dread builds at the base of my skull. What if I forgot something vitally important, like a dentist appointment? After all, according to my birth parents, Ray and Rosaline, Alzheimer’s runs in our family. And sad as it is, no one in the field of medicine can tell when it starts latching onto one’s brain. It’s been lingering in the back of my mind ever since I learned that little fact about my DNA.
Being switched as a baby; the gift that keeps on giving.
Hold on. Is that ...?
Why the hell was Mom here? The distinct lingering notes of Chanel Number Five don’t lie. Am I really losing it already, or did she spend time with Jon here today? I honestly don’t know which of those outcomes scares me most. My parents have embraced Jon as their biological son a while ago now, but they’re not exactly the surprise-visit kind of people.
Unless ... Mom needed something from Jon. A kidney, perhaps. Whatever it is, there’s drama in its wake. I can smell it in the air, right along the Chanel. Lucky for me, it dissipates completely on my way to our bedroom down the hallway.
With Janice prancing behind me, I stop in my tracks when I see a colorful glow coming from our open bedroom door. “Jon, are you in there? What’s going on? Why didn’t you say anything when I --”
Holy Mother of God.
“Welcome home, baby. Something’s been waiting for you.” Jon is using his sex voice, a darker, slightly growling one that never fails to entice.
He’s not wrong. Something is indeed in need of my assistance in here -- it’s hard not to notice.
“You didn’t think you were the only one with a surprise up his sleeve, now did you?” he asks, stroking his hard-on, dragging out the motion of his palm up and down like I need a reminder of how big he is. He’s sitting up against the headboard, his thick thighs spread. Going all-in with the Christmas theme, colored string lights are draped over our white sheets.
I swallow my drool before I remember how to speak. “So, it worked, huh?”
“Worked?” Jon echoes, then gets up off the bed. My pulse picks up the pace, sending a jolt of excitement straight to my dick. He cups my face and crashes his lips over mine in a demanding, claiming kiss. Soon, his grip tightens as his tongue overpowers mine. All I can do is hang on for the ride he’s got planned -- which is exactly what I wanted from my baby. This, is what I’ve been waiting for all through today’s shift at the hospital. This, is exactly what I’d been aiming for before posing for my phone’s camera last week.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
