Merry in Spite

by Irene Bahrd

“You being here isn’t an accident, Myles. You haven’t been back in Coal’s in over half a decade. Why are you here?” You, I want to shout at the top of my lungs. Instead, I opt for the cowardly response of, “My family.” “Right.” Tristan nods but his visible disappointment fills me with guilt for lying to him; I’m only here for him. He looks away in thought for a moment and mutters, “Fuck it,” before taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

“You kissed me.” His expression is unreadable, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Sorry, ‘bout that. I didn’t mean⁠—” Myles closes the distance, making me lose my train of thought. He grips my shirt and brings our faces mere inches apart. “Do it again.”

Our mouths collide in a fevered kiss that’s beyond toe-curling—it’s cock-twitching.

“Why haven’t you been back to Coal’s before now?” Staring at our joined hands, he sighs and admits, “I was in love with someone who only saw me as a friend. I couldn’t bear the thought of coming home for the holidays and finding out he was married with two kids and a goldendoodle.” I’m an idiot for asking, but I can’t help myself. “With who?” “You.” “No. There’s no fucking way.” Shit, I think I said that out loud.

“I would be married with two kids and a goldendoodle, but the man I wanted to do it with moved to another country.” He squeezes my hand tighter. “Don’t fuck with me, Tris.” “I’m not. I always wanted you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want that bedazzled cock of yours.”

“I love you, Myles, but I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” “I’m yours. You can fuck me however the hell you want.”