Learning to Love Christmas: Audie and Calhoun 3 (Low Country Lovers) Read online

  Julia McBryant

  Learning to Love Christmas: Audie and Calhoun 3

  Low Country Lovers, #3

  Copyright © 2019 by Julia McBryant

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Julia McBryant asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

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  “Bah! Humbug!”

  — Ebenezer Scrooge, “A Christmas Carol”

  Contents

  Preface

  Audie

  Calhoun

  Audie

  Calhoun

  Audie

  About the Author

  Also by Julia McBryant

  Preface

  This takes place after Low Country Lovers #4, All The Little Lights, which occurs the summer preceding this Christmas. All you need to know: Audie moved to Savannah and is working on his Master’s of Fine Arts in poetry at Savannah School of Art. Calhoun works as a photographer and journalist for The Savannah Morning News. For a variety of reasons, Audie is no longer on speaking term with his parents.

  Also, Calhoun allowed Audie to get a German Shepherd, which he named Pandora. This is, in large part, a testament of Calhoun’s love and patience.

  1

  Audie

  It’s Christmas Eve, and Audie smiles. He stretches out on his favorite red leather sofa, the one with plenty of room for his long legs.

  He sprawls with a bottle of bourbon and his German Shepherd tangled at his feet. Calhoun hates her on the couch but Calhoun’s at his Gran’s. They invited Audie, of course. He declined.

  He would share a room with Calhoun, giving Calhoun’s Gran fodder for ridicule until the four horsemen ride in to see them to their doom.

  He has spent every single Christmas Eve of his goddamn life with his miserable family. He never has to do it again. He wants to savor that alone.

  He wants to savor that alone by getting roaring drunk.

  He fucking hates Christmas. He’s always hated Christmas, because he’s always hated his family, and the two are inextricable. Fuck Christmas. Audie refuses to celebrate it. He’s celebrating the quiet in the house, the dog at his feet, the good bourbon in his hand and the look on Han’s face when they seal him in carbonite.

  He swore up and down he’d call Calhoun at midnight. But this Christmas belongs to him.

  Audie stretches out and watches Star Wars with a bottle of bourbon and his goddamn dog.

  At 11:55, because Calhoun likes him to be punctual, Audie goes upstairs to the bedroom. He kicks Pan off the bed, strips, and crawls under the covers. He texts Calhoun.

  u still awake

  yeah. miss u wish u had come

  like being alone

  i know but i miss u. merry xmas

  merry xmas i guess

  dont be so audie about it god :)

  beds real empty

  u couldve come over here

  wed have to be quiet and i couldnt get it up over there anyway

  ha truth me either

  i can get it up right now tho

  Audie prays Calhoun gives him the answer he wants.

  me 2

  Audie grins. He sets his phone on the pillow and rifles through his bedside table for the lube. His cock starts to rise.

  call me or text?

  i wanna hear u but i have 2 whisper

  dont care call me so ur phone doesnt ring

  Audie picks his phone up before it makes more than a strangled beep. “I fucking want you.”

  “Oh my god, Audie. I want you so bad. We haven’t in —”

  “Two days. Two real long fuckin’ days.” Audie wedges the phone on his shoulder as he pumps lube on his hand. “Tell me where you are and what you’re wearing.”

  “I’m in the extra bedroom? I have the lights turned off because I told them I was going to sleep. I’m just wearing those old red plaid pajama pants of yours —”

  “Take them off.”

  “You want me to?”

  “Take them off, get under the covers, and get out the lube. Don’t lie to me, I know you brought some.”

  “Yeah.” His voice rises a little in pitch. “Yeah, I did.”

  “You knew we’d be doing this.”

  “I kinda thought maybe —”

  “You kinda hoped maybe.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re such a slut for phone sex, honey.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You love when I tell you that.”

  “Yeah, Audie.” His quiet voice gets quieter.

  “You love when I call you names, baby boy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You get that lube yet? And take your pajama pants off?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put some on your hand and rub it on your cock. You hard yet?”

  “I’m getting real hard when you talk to me.”

  “I get so fucking stiff when you talk. My cock feels so good. I’m rubbing lube on it now. You know how I use so much of it when I jerk off. God, I love stroking my cock while you talk. I’ve got my whole fist wrapped around it and I’m playing with that spot under my head. Tell me what you’re doing.”

  “I put lube all over my cock when you were talking just then and I got so hard. My cock feels really good in my hand. I’m playing with my head and right near the top. It feels so good. I’m all slippery. I love that feeling.”

  “I wanna fuck your tight ass.”

  “Oh god.”

  “You want me to?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m jerking my cock harder when you say you want it. I wanna put you on top of something, pin you up against the wall, put your legs on my shoulders, and fuck you hard while I jerk you and you beg for it.”

  “Oh god, that sounds so good. I love when you put my legs on your shoulders.”

  “You like that? Tell me how good your cock feels.”

  “It feels so good, Audie.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing to it.”

  “I’m jacking it harder. I keep stopping to play with my balls. My dick’s so stiff for you.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “I wanna be up on my knees with my head on the bed while you fuck my ass. Oh god, I want you to fuck me so bad, Audie. I love when you fuck me.”

  “I love fucking you. You’re alw
ays so goddamn tight for me. You feel so fucking good. I’m jacking it so hard now. Tell me what else you like.”

  “I love when you come in my ass. Oh my god, the first time you did I didn’t think I would feel it like that? But then it was so hot, like I could feel you pumping come into me? Oh my god I like, always come when you do that.”

  “I like you up against the goddamn wall. I love pinning you and holding your big cock while I fuck your tight ass. Move all that pretty hair out of the way and bite the fuck out of your neck while I jack you. I love to see you come, too. You gonna come for me?”

  “Imma come so hard for you.”

  “I wanna hear you come for me. I want you to come a lot. I love when we fuck and your cock’s between us, and you come and I can feel it and it’s all sticky, that’s so fucking hot. I can feel you come and your ass gets tighter on me at the same time. I’m gonna come soon. You want I should come?”

  “Oh my god. I love picturing you coming in your hand.”

  “I have to move the covers because it’s gonna go up my chest.”

  “Oh my god. And it’s gonna be all white and sticky and hot too. I love your come. I love when you come, Audie.”

  Audie arches up in his hand. His breathing quickens and gets ragged; he hears Calhoun’s do the same. “That’s it, baby. C’mon. I wanna hear you come. Get all of it out for me.”

  “Oh my god. Audie.”

  “You know you want this cock in your ass so goddamn bad.”

  “Oh god I so do. I want you to fuck me with it.”

  “I wanna fuck you so hard, baby boy.” Audie’s on the edge, thrusting into his hand.

  “I want your big cock, Audie,” in that sweet little voice, that’s all it takes, and he holds his cock tight, freezing and pumping in rhythm as he shoots up his chest. “Oh god, you just came, didn’t you? Oh, that’s so hot.”

  “Yeah. I wanted to come in your tight ass. I bet you’re close.”

  “I’m so fucking close.”

  “You’re such a slut for my cock.”

  “Oh my god, I am.”

  “You need it so bad. When I get you home tomorrow, Imma pin you —” As he says “tomorrow,” he hears the soft gasp that means Calhoun’s finally coming. Audie makes his voice soft. “That’s it, baby. C’mon. Let it all out. You know I love to see you come.”

  Audies breathes hard for a little bit; he hears Calhoun doing the same and wishes they were together. When they’re together they do it in sync, afterwards. Audie grabs the washcloth he left on the table and wipes off. God, but he came a lot.

  “I love doing that.” Calhoun always gets dreamy after he gets off.

  “I know you do. Like I said, you’re a total slut for phone sex.”

  Calhoun laughs a little. “I so am.” His voice drops. “Wish you would come over tomorrow.”

  “I will next year, swear to god. Give me one year. Just one year to eat Chinese food and be alone. Like, a cleansing or something. I want to be alone with my dog and some alcohol and nothing, nothing, nothing.”

  “I’ll miss you in the morning.”

  “I know you will, baby. I’ll miss you, too. But I need this. I just need one year. It’s like, a palate cleanser. No carols and no tree and no stockings and no anything.”

  He hears Calhoun sigh. “I love you, Audie.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Audie hangs up. He slugs back some more bourbon, rests his head on the pillow, lets his dog back on the bed and closes his goddamn eyes.

  Audie wakes at noon with sort of a headache and rakes his fingers through his dark curls to get the tangles out. But that’s okay, because it’s fucking Christmas. No one will bother him: one blank, beautiful nothing stretches before him. No monstrous breakfast with his parents, no presents under the tastefully, decorator-assembled tree. No annoying Sinatra tunes. No expectations or family dinners with assholes he hates. He’s free. He hits the bourbon again, feeds his dog, and sprawls on the couch. He flicks through the channels and watches the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. He talks to Calhoun: I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry I need this, but I need it. He orders Chinese, bad Chinese, and shovels it down. It tastes fantastic. He shares the rest with Pan.

  When Calhoun arrives home at nine o’clock, Audie’s mostly drunk, mostly stoned, and watching Game of Throne reruns. He has spoken to no one today except the Chinese delivery guy and Calhoun and his dog, who thumps her tail at his boyfriend’s arrival.

  “Pan, off.” Calhoun points. Pan skulks off the couch. “Audie, you know I hate her up there.”

  He shrugs.

  He eyes the bourbon. “How much have you been drinking?”

  “It’s Christmas.”

  “I asked a question.”

  “I answered it. C’mere, baby boy, I missed you and you look good in that suit.” Calhoun, of course, has on a navy wool suit and a very tasteful, very subtly candy-cane striped tie. He’s wearing suspenders, too, Audie suspects, and Audie loves him in suspenders. Audie stands, thankfully without wobbling. “I promised you something last night.”

  Calhoun tilts his head, his long brown hair canting on his shoulders. God, that hair, made for pulling. “What?”

  Audie shoves him against the wall. “Merry Christmas.” He sucks on Calhoun’s ear, which usually makes his boyfriend melt. Calhoun pushes him off.

  “Ick, you smell like bourbon. You’re totally trashed, Audie.”

  “I am not!”

  “You so are. And you’re going to wrinkle my suit. You missed our first Christmas together and now I finally show up and you’re totally drunk.” Calhoun strides up the stairs. “And we even agreed no presents!”

  Well, goddamn.

  Audie sprawls back on the couch, calls his dog up, and ogles Jaime Lannister some more until the bourbon and the vape pen and the lull of the TV conspire to make his eyelids heavy.

  “Wake up!” Calhoun shakes him. It looks to be somewhere around nine-thirty by the pulsing clock on the Blu-Ray, which is way too red and way too pulse-y.

  The sunlight slanting through the blinds seems a cruelty sent from the Lord God to punish Audie for his wickedness.

  “Are you hungover?” Calhoun stands with his hands on his hips in nothing but a pair of Audie’s pajama pants. God, he’s hot, lanky but pale and beautiful, all that long, shiny hair, no stubble at all.

  “No.” Yes.

  “Get your ass up to pack. You know we’re going to Henry and Wills’s party today.”

  “Aw, fuck me.” Audie had forgotten. Wills and Henry Culliver are throwing some massive three-day Christmas blowout at their beach house on Tybee.

  “Up. Breakfast. Dressed. Packed. Now. I swear, you can be such a child. I made kennel reservations for Pan already.”

  “Can’t we take her?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.”

  Audie sighs.

  “And you need an ugly sweater. I bought you one. It’s on the bed. Drink some damn Alka-Seltzer and take some Goody’s Headache Powder. Gran set home an apple pie for you and I made coffee.”

  Audie wordlessly obeys Calhoun. Open secret: Audie’s the top. But Calhoun bosses his ass around like a fucking mother hen. Audie packs his vape pen and all the pot he has. They’ll be in the hot tub the whole time, and he hates getting plowed in the hot tub; he gets totally dehydrated. He also hits some more hair of the dog, which he pours in a flask. So this is Christmas: and what he’s done is get fucking trashed, and he plans to continue.

  Calhoun eyes him after Audie eventually makes it though breakfast, the last task he tackles. “You’re drunk again. Already.”

  “I hate Christmas.” The sun’s too bright in the kitchen, but sunglasses inside would look weird.

  “Are you planning on spending the whole Christmas season in a drunken haze?”

  “I hate Christmas.”

  “That’s not an answer, Audubon.” Cal
houn flips his hair off his face. “I took Pan to the kennel.”

  “For which I am duly grateful.”

  “Are you packed?”

  “Ugly sweater and all, darling.”

  “Don’t you ‘darling’ me. You ditched me on Christmas for bourbon and your dog, and now you’re drunk again. I know you hate your family and I know you hate the holidays but this is your chance to make new memories, not wallow in the old ones.”

  “I told you. I need one year. One year, Calhoun. Just one year. Then I’ll be the good boyfriend, and I’ll go to Gran’s, and I’ll open presents and radiate Christmas cheer and solo ‘The First Noel,’ and look at you very, very solemnly and say, ‘God bless us, every one.”

  Calhoun throws him side-eye. “You’re an agnostic.”

  “I’ll believe in my own personal Jesus for one day. I will even accompany you, fashionably, to the service of your choice. For the record, I prefer Episcopalian, because it’s classiest. I don’t do Wiccan, because they don’t wear suits.”

  “I guess I’m driving.”

  “Guess you are.”

  They arrive at the Cullivers’ to a nightmare of Christmas fuckery: trees and cookies and a black Santa Claus, glitter and garland and stockings and oh my fucking god an ornament making station. The tree has blue lights and a beach theme; blue lights are an offense to god and man alike. Someone has fabric-painted their names on the stockings. Oh, wow. Audie has a real stocking, which secretly melts his grinchy heart: he’s never had one. Seriously, though: it looks like Macy’s Christmas department vomited into the Culliver beach house. Audie takes it all in. “He’s here! He’s here! Santa Claus finally came!”

  “Audie, don’t be mean. It looks adorable in here!”

  “Hey, Henry! Hey, Wills!” Calhoun calls.

  The house looks empty, but they must all be in the hot tub. Audie walks out on the deck and comes back. “They aren’t in the hot tub.”

  “Huh. Wonder where everyone is.”

  He hears noises coming from one of the bedrooms. Oh, fuck: Audies realizes exactly where at least two of them are. He resists the urge to crack up.

  “Sorry, changing into our suits! We’re coming right out!” Crispin shouts. Audie hears mad scrambling.