Day Twenty-Two of Advent

Part Five

We go back to the cabin. After a kiss like that, I want more. It was over too soon, despite my full cooperation, John tearing his mouth away at the first touch of my tongue on his, staring at me with huge, shocked eyes. But when I’d taken a second kiss, then a third, he’d gotten with the program.

I try stepping on the patch of ground that’d taken me back to my time, but with no result. So we walk back through the snowy woods, in silence for the most part, lost in thoughts we’re ready to share.

John breaks the silence when we’re within sight of the cabin. “I must believe my eyes and that means I must accept your story. But I’ll not hide from you how little I wish it to be true. This changes everything.”

I nod. I’ve never met someone from the future, and I know I’d be skeptical as hell, but the concept’s one I’m familiar with. For John, not so much. Back to the Future won’t be filmed for two centuries and Mark Twain won’t write about Yankees in King Arthur’s court for a while either.

“Just don’t ask me what’s going to happen. For one thing, I’m hazy on the details.”

“Your world…your time…it’s different?”

“Oh God, so different.” I want to tell him stuff. Give him hope for the future, amaze him. No. I want to show off, brag about indoor plumbing and men on the moon, show him my useless cell phone and make him grasp what it can do. “We’ve screwed—we’ve made mistakes. Huge ones. But we’ve done incredible things too. And I’ll tell you one thing. That kiss we shared? You could’ve done that to me in the middle of a busy town and no one would’ve batted an eye. Men can marry men and women can marry women in Canada, the States, hell, most of Europe.”

He shakes his head. “That I can’t accept, but it explains your boldness.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me,” I remind him. “First time for you?”

He hunches his shoulder and looks away, which is as clear a ‘yes’ as it gets.

“Well, you’re a natural,” I tell him. “And if you want to do more than kiss, I’m good with that.”

He doesn’t pretend not to know what I mean which is a relief. A thought occurs to me. “They’ve dried up in my time, but there used to be hot springs around here somewhere. I read about them. Do you know where they are?”

“Aye, they lie a short walk away, but why do you want to go there?”

I sacrifice tact for honesty. “Because we stink.”

The springs would barely merit a mention in a guidebook, but they bubble up, steaming in the frigid air, creating a pool some twenty feet wide, fringed by snowbanks. I test the water and all but moan with ecstasy. Hot, muddy at the bottom, yeah, but deep enough not to matter. “I’m going in. If I get frostbite afterward, it’s worth it.”

I strip, with his gaze never leaving me, draping my clothes over an outcrop of rock. The snow burns cold against my soles, but I ignore it, plunging into the pool with a yell that echoes off the trees.

It’s heaven. I’m warm for the first time in what feels like weeks, I float on my back and gesture to John. “Come on in. Or can’t you swim?”

“I can swim,” he tells me. “But I’ve no wish to catch a cold.”

“Colds are caused by germs, not getting cold,” I say. “And germs love dirty skin. Come on. I’ll make it worth your while.”

He bites his lip, then shrugs and strips before sliding into the water beside me. I catch his arms and wrap myself around him, exuberant and turned on. There’s a way home out there and a hot naked guy skinny-dipping with me. It’s something to smile about.

It’s not long before we’re kissing again, but with no clothing in the way, his reaction’s impossible to miss. I reach down and caress his cock, coaxing a gasp out of him. He’s bigger than me and I work my jaw in anticipation, wondering how he’ll taste, how wide he’ll stretch my lips.

Not my ass. I top, never bottom, and God knows what historical STDs are around. I’d put money on John being clean, but better safe than sorry.

There’s a ledge of rock running along one side of the pool. I tow him over to it. “Sit on that.”

“I’ll freeze,” he objects.

“It won’t be for long.” His first blowjob? He’s in for a treat, but I’ll be lucky if I get more than a few sucks before he spills.

When I take my first lick he shudders, struggles to back away, but I grab his thighs and click my tongue reprovingly. “Relax, big guy. This is going to feel incredible, trust me.”

“Trust you?” He laughs at that. “Have I done anything else since I found you?”

“I don’t know, but talk later, whimper my name now.”

And he does.