Chapter 6 – Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Christmas was bearing down on us, and I was vexed by what to get Mace. I needed a home run, and I was a poor gift giver at best. I enlisted Avery and Bruce in the search for ideas, and they had a blast with it. Each suggestion was more crude and ridiculous than the one before. I resisted the suggestions of butt plugs and cock rings, the equally stupid suggestions of sensual massages and facials ("I thought you'd want to give him a facial," Avery insinuated), and the totally counterproductive suggestion of flying John out for a surprise visit.

"Can you please be serious?" I pleaded. "You know I'm bad at gifting."

"That's because you look for what you'd want, not what the person to whom you're giving the gift would want," Avery alleged.

He had a point. I don't think I'd ever bought a gift I didn't like, no matter what the person receiving it might like. My mother had horrible taste in jewelry. I wouldn't contribute to her bad collection. She wore what I bought her only when I was around.

I started thinking of Mace and what he might want. Mace loved the Cardinals more than anything else, so I settled on something Cardinal. I knew nothing about the team, so I had to research its history and try to track something down.

I learned that Stan Musial was the most famous Cardinal, at least living. I called the Cardinals' ballpark, and got routed to the Fan Store. I talked to a nice lady who luckily had little else to do that afternoon, and, by the end of the call, an autographed Stan Musial jersey was being shipped my direction. It had cost a small fortune, but Mace was worth it.

Once I got the jersey, I had it framed, the back of the jersey highlighted by the "Stan 'the Man' Musial" signature between "MUSIAL" and "6." I wrapped the frame, and I couldn't wait to give the gift to Mace.

Mace and John met in New Orleans the weekend before Christmas. Mace returned grumpy. He was clearly put out at the gym, and he tried to avoid dinner at my apartment after. I couldn't let him, because I planned to give him his present for dessert. I was relentless, and Mace finally relented.

Over dinner, I dug for the source of his grumpiness. After three glasses of wine, he finally gave it up. He and John had celebrated Christmas in New Orleans, and John's gift was a paperback of Edmund Burke's "Reflections on the Revolution in France." A paperback?! John had either given up or didn't care.

If I was a better person, I may have buried my gift so as not to upstage John. As is by now quite obvious, I was not a better person, at least not yet.

I went to my room and returned with my gift. Mace's eyes went wide. I was eager with anticipation as he unwrapped it, carefully and patiently, of course (I should have known Mace would not tear the paper like I would have).

"Oh my God," he reacted as he took it in, mouth agape. "This is the best gift I've ever gotten." He turned to me, took my face in his hands, kissed me on the mouth, and said "Thank you, Juan. I really mean it. It's the best gift I've ever gotten."

As he walked toward his gym bag, he said, "I have something for you, too." He returned with a small box.

I tore the paper and flipped the box open. Inside, there was a single, small gold hoop.

"You said you wanted to get your ear pierced. So, now you have an earring to wear when you do it."

I thought Mace had set a precedent, so I kissed him in thanksgiving for my gift. "I love it," I said. "I really do. I'm going to get my ear pierced tomorrow." [I did. They told me to keep the gold stud in for thirty days, but I didn't. I substituted in Mace's hoop as soon as I got home. It hurt like hell to make the change, but I liked having something from him on me at all times.].

I opened another bottle of wine. We drank it on the patio. As we could in December in San Diego.

Our chairs were angled, and I slid my right foot under his left thigh. He responded by moving his left foot to my lap, and I took it in my hands, rubbing and tickling it as we drank our wine in silence.

Stupidly, I raised his foot to my mouth, kissed it, and said "I love you, Mace. I really do."

To my surprise, he responded by pulling my foot from under his leg, raising it to his mouth, and offering "I love you, too, Puta. I really do."

*****

Mace stayed over that night. We undressed in silence. I thought about pulling my briefs off, but I decided I didn't want to be too forward.

When Mace was in just his underwear, he stood and looked at me. It was the most I'd ever seen of him. He was well-built. I loved the blond hair that covered his chest and the way it trailed down his stomach and into his briefs.

His briefs were full, and he wasn't hard. His cock was to the right, and it was impressive. It looked like he had a can of beer in his pants. I almost said something about it, but I decided against it. Instead, I walked over to him, and kneeled in front of him. I ran my hands over his feet, his calves and his thighs. I put my face to his crotch and inhaled deeply. I raised up and ran my hands over his sides, his stomach, his chest and his shoulders. I lowered my face to his right armpit and inhaled deeply again. I ran my tongue along his chest and neck and chin and kissed his lips. I could feel his cock straining against mine. I decided to jump.

"Mace, I want to make love with you."

"I know, Juan, but I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"No one needs to know but us."

"That's one too many."

I didn't press him. I pulled back, smiled, and suggested we get some sleep.

"I think I should go," he offered, half-heartedly.

"Don't be stupid. It's too late and you've had too much to drink. I can sleep with you and keep my hands off you."

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about me."

We settled into bed. We were both on our backs, and I realized I had not thanked Mace for my gift. "Thank you for the ear ring," I said. "Every time I wear it I'll think of you."

Mace rolled toward me and said nothing. As I had done to him on Halloween, he traced my face, starting at my hairline, circling my eyes, and tracing each eyebrow before moving to my nose and my mouth. He continued to my neck, lightly tickling down my carotid to my clavicle. He moved to each nipple, circling them over and over before gently swirling my chest hair and my stomach hair. I was so turned on, I thought I might explode. I expected him to stop at my navel, but he didn't. He moved his hand to my dick and tickled it and my balls through my briefs. I was getting lost in his touch when he said "you can take those off, if you want."

I totally wanted. But, I wasn't sure I should act on the want. Any more touching, though, would resolve my uncertainty.

"Mace, do you really want to do this?"

"So much."

"Okay, bad choice of words. Don't you think you're going to regret doing this?"

"I hope not."

I raised my hips and slipped my briefs off. Mace's hand stayed on my stomach, so it was clear he was having doubts. I was trapped between carnal desire and reason.

When Mace moved his hand toward my cock, I grabbed it.

"Don't," I said.

"I want to."

"You don't," I said, pulling Mace's hand to my mouth and kissing it. I jacked myself while I sucked his fingers. I was so geeked up, it took no time for me to come. I filled my navel with cum.

Mace pulled his fingers from my mouth and placed them in his own, sucking my saliva off of each of them. I got up to clean the cum off me. When I returned to bed, Mace apologized for being a cocktease.

"You're not a cocktease. You're just stuck between where you are and where you want to be."

Mace didn't agree or disagree. But, his silence said a lot to me.