Naughty & Nice: A MFM Snowed-in Christmas Romance

It’s an asshole thing to do, but I turn the volume down on the TV so I can listen to them.

I figure that it’s better than last time because at least I’m not standing at the door, watching.

I can’t help myself. It’s the most action I’m going to get while we’re here. I may as well live vicariously through them now they’ve figured their shit out.

Although, I can’t say I’m all that jealous of them navigating their first times. Awkward as fuck. I could happily go through the rest of my life without having to think about mine.

Sex, now that I know what I’m doing is so much better.

At least I can share some of my knowledge with my brother. He’s always waved me off in the past when I’ve attempted to give him advice. But he needs it now, especially if he wants to keep making Noelle scream.

He’s already come once, and fast.

Fucking pussy.

He needs to build up some stamina.

Not that I can really comment. I pretty much blew the second I got it in on my first time.

Fair play though, he didn’t roll over and go straight to sleep. He’s being a gentleman and making sure she gets hers, too.

I try to imagine what they’re doing right now, what position they’re in.

The need to see if I can open their door and watch through the crack is strong, but I resist.

I’ve done enough creeping today.

Slouching back farther on the couch, I spread my thighs and let out a pained sigh.

Watching them, hearing them, is making me horny as fuck.

“Rix,” Noelle cries, not making the situation any better. “Please.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself as I angrily shove my shorts over my ass, letting my aching dick free.

Closing my eyes, I wrap my hand around my length and try to imagine that it’s hers.

She felt so fucking good earlier. Too fucking good for a simple hand job.

Her hesitance and lack of confidence should have been a turn-off. I’m sure that with any other woman, it would have been.

Noelle, though? She’s different.

“Oh god, yes. More,” she begs, her voice getting louder and more uncontrolled.

She’s getting close.

I work my dick harder, faster. I have this weird need to finish with her.

I don’t understand it, and I put every effort I can into trying not to figure it out.

“Yes, Rix. Yes. Yes,” she screams as her orgasm finally takes her.

Rix’s groans rip through the cabin as he finds his release right alongside her.

“Fuck,” I grunt. “Fuck, fuck.” My hips jump from the couch as my dick jerks and I come over my own hand.

Merry fucking Christmas.

With a pained sigh, I sink lower, both physically and mentally.

This was not the vacation I was expecting.

I take a couple of minutes before I give myself a talking to and go clean up.

It’s almost an hour later when the sound of someone moving around fills the cabin.

Someone slips out of the bedroom and footsteps move toward the bathroom. When that door doesn’t close, I take it as an invitation and go and investigate.

I find exactly what I was expecting: Rix standing at the toilet, taking a piss.

“Shit,” Rix hisses.

“Problem?” I ask, making him jump and almost piss up the wall.

“Fuck off,” he grunts.

“No can do,” I say resting my shoulder against the jam. “Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “I made her bleed,” he confesses quietly.

“It didn’t bother her, from what I heard.”

I jump when his hand slaps against the wall in front of him. “Fucking asshole.”

Keeping his back to me, he moves to the sink and begins to clean up.

I leave him to it and head for the kitchen for a drink, knowing that he’s going to follow.

Pulling out two glasses, I grab the bottle of vodka from the freezer and pour two shots.

I only have to wait a minute before footsteps move my way.

“Goodbye to your virginity,” I say holding up the glass. “I’ve been waiting years to celebrate this.”

“I fucking hate you,” he mutters, grabbing the glass and doing the shot without clinking it against mine.

“Pussy,” I quip before doing the same.

It burns, but in a good way.

“Another?” I ask but pour it long before he has a chance to answer.

He shakes his head but does the shot anyway.

“So, how was it?” I ask, hopping up on the counter, ready to hear all the juicy details.

“I thought you were listening,” he says, copying me and sitting on the opposite counter.

As I look up at him, I get hit with a strong sense of déjà vu.

We used to do this as kids in our shitty trailer kitchen. Honestly, I’ve no idea how the rotting cabinets took our weight, but they did. We used to spend hours sitting there shooting the shit. Most often alone, but sometimes with Noelle too.

“I was,” I confirm, not that he needs it. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“More,” he whispers with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It was… everything. She’s everything.”

“Took you fucking long enough to realize it.”

“I’ve always known,” he admits. “I just thought she deserved better.”

“Oh, fuck off. How could she do any better than you?”

“You,” he blurts, making me throw my head back and laugh.

“Me? Fuck off. I don’t come anywhere close to standing up to you, let alone being better.”

He shakes his head, refusing to believe me.

“She had to show me what to do. I had no idea.”

“So? That’s fucking hot. And it’s better than you fumbling around in all the wrong places. Trust me, girls don’t like that.”

“Oh really?” he deadpans.

“I never had a Noelle to guide me. Just porn.”

“I bet that was hella helpful.”

“No, not really.”

We fall silent, Rix losing himself in his memories and me drowning in my regrets.

I’d have loved to have a Noelle. Sure, she’s always been in my life, but not the way she’s been in Rix’s.

I’ve never told him before just how jealous I’ve always been of them.

“I’m still pissed at you, you know,” he suddenly says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “I know. Wouldn’t expect any less, to be honest. I took something that wasn’t mine. But hey, at least you know I didn’t fuck her.”

“Well, that makes it all better,” he mutters.

“Nothing will make it better. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’m a selfish asshole.”

The words float around the kitchen, but for long seconds, Hendrix doesn’t respond. Instead, he just sits there wearing nothing more than his boxers with his fingers gripped so tightly around the edge of the counter, his knuckles are white.

He’s angry, I get it. But if I’m being honest, I’d rather he hit me again than force me to open up. He knows I hate talking.

Probably exactly why he’s doing it, a little voice pipes up.

The ultimate punishment for my crime.

“When we were dancing,” I start, taking myself back to that night, “there was something different about her. And then when she left, I couldn’t help but follow her. I needed more. Her body spoke to mine in a way no other woman’s ever had.

“I followed her to the bathroom and caught the door just before she closed it.

“I didn’t give her a chance to react. I just pinned her back against the wall and lifted her veil.”

The shock I felt at that moment rendered me useless for a few seconds. Long enough that she could have run. But she didn’t.

“I couldn’t believe it. Hell, for at least a minute, I don’t think I did. But she stayed there with her back against the wall, looking at me with wide eyes. Wide, hungry eyes that begged me to do something.”

“Did you know what the date was?” I ask.

I hang my head. “To start with, no,” I confess.

“Would it have made any difference if you had?”

“Honestly, no. She needed an escape. It didn’t matter what from. In that moment, I just knew that I needed to give it to her.”

He stares at me, and for once, I can’t read what he’s thinking.

“I can’t regret it, Rix. I won’t regret it. She was spiraling. If it weren’t me, then it could have been⁠—”

“I know. And weirdly, I’m grateful that you were there to take care of her. Not sure this morning was necessary, though.”

I hang my head.

“She’s ensnared me in her web, Bro. Couldn’t help myself.”

“She’s mine,” Hendrix growls possessively.

“I know.” I hate how dejected and sad my voice comes out. “You should get back to her,” I say, hopping down from the counter. “She might wake up wanting round three.”

Rix’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“Welcome to adulthood, Bro,” I mutter as I walk out of the kitchen.

The rest of this trip will be hellish if they’re going to be fucking every few minutes.

After making use of the bathroom, I strip down to my boxers and attempt to get comfy on the couch. The cushions are lumpy and the blanket is scratchy, but it’s all I’ve got. If I didn’t think it would earn me another punch to the face, I might mention joining them in an actual bed, but I could do without the pain.

Hendrix is still crashing about in the kitchen, tidying up the mess I probably should have dealt with while they were fucking.

I’m busy scrolling through the bullshit on my feed when he appears.

“Bet you wish you were in Austin, huh?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” I mutter, although honestly, I’d much rather spend the holidays with those I love than getting fucked up with the team. I’m just not going to admit that out loud.

“Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

“Fantastic,” I deadpan. “More cheesy movies.”

“We can watch Die Hard.”

“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie,” I mutter, knowing that it’s going to start an argument.

“Die Hard is a⁠—”

I glance at him, and it cuts off the rant he’s about to embark on.

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow,” he says before walking toward the bedroom. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“When it’s just the two of you up in the morning, don’t fucking touch her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Bro. Not unless you’re watching.”

All the air rushes from his lungs, but he doesn’t respond. At least not until he’s at the bedroom door and bids me goodnight.

The cabin falls quiet. Only the sound of the smoldering fire can be heard.

I guess some would describe it as peaceful. To me, it’s hell.

It was never peaceful where we grew up, and if things did go quiet, it was a warning for what was about to come.

Silence puts me on edge. It always has, and it probably always will.

Picking my cell back up, I turn the volume down and put some music on—anything to fill the silence. If I don’t, it’ll allow space for my thoughts, and those really aren’t necessary.

The less I think about Hendrix crawling into bed with Noelle and wrapping her up in his arms on the other side of the wall, the better. I don’t need to think about what it felt like for him when he pushed inside her for the first time, or the way she tasted on my fingers this morning.

Has he eaten her out yet? He’d fucking love that.

Her too, of course, assuming he figured out what to do.

Maybe I’ll have to teach him…

My dick twitches at the thought of spreading her legs and feasting on her pussy, of getting her taste from the source, not second-hand from my fingers.

Fuck. No.

He needs to be doing it.

I could watch, though. Make sure he does it right.

She looks beautiful when she comes; I bet it would be even better with his face between her thighs.

I fall asleep with a raging hard-on, and the dreams that float through my head in my slumber mean that I wake up the exact same way.

These next few days are going to be hard. Pun fully intended.