Cyn Diquill

Of Ice and Men

A Christmas Story

The snow fell lightly.

Drifting past the red hair, past the overly large glasses, and the face spotted with freckles.

Past the ratty bathrobe that clung diligently to the small boy, as if stuck on with glue.

His slippers did little to break the cold, dusty snow, and it had long ago soaked the fringes of his striped pajama pants. He held his flashlight firmly; he didn't know how he'd gotten this lost, and on Christmas Eve even. His mother and Sister would be so worried about him.

A sound reaches his ears and he turns about, hoping that the origin of the noise is friendly, possibly a source of warmth, but sees nothing. As his feet continue to freeze he wonders why he hasn't lost all feeling in his toes yet. It sounds like a little bit of paradise right now. To lose all feeling. His teeth chatter, and he wipes fresh snow from his spectacles. He had just gotten these eye glasses, and he is determined to keep them clean.

Another sound sends him further down his path of dread: What if he was being followed? Some sick creature, maybe wanted his flesh for his own. Like in Captain America, or X-Men. He shines his little flashlight into the deep recesses of the dark forest. The trees lean back, as if laughing at his plight.

Another sound, a twig snapping?

Footsteps!?

The boy searches the ground and then, with one hand, packs snow together into the tightest snowball he can muster. He holds his flashlight in front of him, like those police officers on the news.

The next noise was bells. Jingling bells.

The boy searches the forest desperately; maybe it was Santa Claus, coming to take him home. He had been a good boy. He had been a wonderful son, kind, and gentle. Oh no, what if Santa knows about the time he accidentally crushed that poor bird house? He had felt so bad. He hadn't told anyone, of course, because he would have been scolded for being clumsy.

Jingling bells, jingling bells.

He searches the ground, but then looks up. He sees what he had hoped to 3; a red sleigh, flying through the air! Oh 3; But no jolly fat man, or reindeer, just a sleigh gliding through the trees. Jingling a few bells. It enticed him, and he smiles weakly. A sleigh to lead him out of the forest! Back to his room, where he could've sworn he'd been moments ago.

He follows the fleeing sleigh until the edge of the trees, just beyond the last layer of branches he sees steps. STEPS! He is over joyed, if there are steps, then there must be a house! And a house means heat!

He sees the sleigh parked behind the chimney. He dashes through the last of the branches, and takes in the view of the building before him. A rustic log cabin, aglow with fiery orange light, as if pulled from a picture book about Christmas in the north. A sole figure moves about the cabin, and the boy sighs. He hastily jogs out of the snow and to the door. He knocks firmly and gasps as it cracks open.

A tall man looks out inquisitively. He frowns slightly. "I had wondered where my Sleigh went-" The man steps away from the door, his face relaxing and becoming more pleasant. "-Come in, you must be cold."

The boy, who needs no more urging, nods and rushes into the small cabin without a word. The warmth hits his face and his glasses fog up. He stops and looks around bewildered trying to figure out what to do next. The man laughs and the fog melts away from the small glasses, leaving the child to see his surroundings.

Wooden, the whole building. A large fireplace and a rug. A small bed, and a large bed, with pillows and blankets. A small stove, a few cupboards, a large red armchair, a small couch. The boy makes a happy noise in his throat and moves towards the couch, facing the fireplace, stopping only as he observes movement on the dark red love seat.

The couch was occupied! By another boy! The other boy was wrapped in a soft looking blanket, wore blue overalls, and had a Santa hat perched atop his head. Neither shirt, nor socks could be seen, so he couldn't tell if he wore much else. This other boy was slightly older than he, 10 possibly 11. He wore long brooding brown hair that seemed to sag to just above his eyes, yet was crisply pulled back behind his ears. He had a warm glow to his skin, that seemed not from the fire. His blue eyes were tinged green and his lips were a light red; the young boy was slightly stunned by the almost oil painting glow that flowed from the older child.

"Child, what is your name?"

The young one startles, looking back to the tall, thin man who'd broken the silence.

"I'm 3; Samuel 3;"

The man nods, "I am John, this is Caleb. Please, er, find a place by the fire. Would you like some Cocoa? 'Tis the season, after all."

Sam nods and sits, with his legs tucked under, near the fire, prompting Caleb to speak; a touch of laughter to his voice. "Don't sit too close, Sam. You'll get a heat burn."

"Wouldn't that be a regular burn, Caleb?"

"No. I mean, it'll be like a sun burn."

John nods and turns the stove on, placing a small kettle on the burner as it clicks to life. Returning, he settles himself into the large armchair, and examines the lost boy. "So, how old are you, Sam?"

"I turned nine in September 3;"

"Wonderful!" John's voice was soft, almost effeminate. However, it had a certain playfulness about it that kept it firmly grounded in the 'male' category. "I am twenty one. Caleb is 13."

Sam blinks. "He doesn't look it." He tilts his head, looking the thin boy up and down.

"No, I don't 3; but it is very evident in other ways," Caleb laughs, a short breathy laugh.

John puts on a mock frown. "Not in front of our new guest, Caleb."

Sam moves a little bit away from the fire, he can feel his face starting to tingle from the heat. He hesitates before sitting next to Caleb, and looks up inquisitively. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure. If you don't mind our hips touching a little."

With a nod, he hops onto the couch. There is enough room for him to sit comfortably, even though their hips do brush.

Behind them, the kettle slowly begins to whistle and John moves towards it.

Caleb sits idly with Samuel, watching the younger boy. Sam's feet swing back and forth, a soft movement that belays his nervousness at being taken into someone elses home so readily.

"Well, this storm isn't supposed to pass for another few days. You shouldn't go anywhere. What do you say we make up one of the beds for you?" Caleb says with a chipper tone.

Sam stops moving in shock, and turns towards the older boy, a twinge of panic running through his young eyes. "I'm going to miss Christmas with my family?"

"No! No 3; Well 3; er, not necessarily. Time passes differently here. We can get you back to your family when the storm passes. In time for Christmas even."

This seems to placate Sam some, and his white knuckle grip on the love seat relaxes.

"Which bed do you want to sleep in?"

"Oh no!" Sam says sheepishly, looking at the beds. "I don't want to kick anyone out of a bed!"

"Nonsense," John says, rejoining the group. Gently, he hands each boys a mug of Cocoa with a candy cane hanging on the rim. "You'd be sleeping with one of us, but you have to decide which bed to sleep in."

"Oh 3;" Samuel thinks for a second about what an odd policy this is, welcoming guests in and sleeping in the same bed as them 3; "Well, the small one wouldn't fit two people. So I guess 3; I'll sleep in the large one."

"The queen? Wonderful. Caleb, make sure your bed is pristine for our guest."

Caleb nods and sheds the black blanket which drifts lazily onto Sam's lap. He almost skips to the bed, trying not to let his feet touch the cold wood floor. As he bends over to fix his bed John strikes up a new conversation with the new comer.

"So 3; do you need any food? A bathroom?"

"No 3; Thank you though. But I went before I arrived 3; here, and I'm not hungry."

"A boy like you should eat," Caleb interjects practically leaping back onto the couch.

"The pot calls the kettle black," John says sipping at his Cocoa, his smile playful.

"Don't start in on me again 3;" Caleb says rolling his eyes and picking up his blanket.

"Well look at you: you're all ribs and muscle. You don't have a scrap of fat on you!"

"It's not like I starve myself."

Johns sighs. "It would figure that I have to be partnered with someone with such a metabolism. Do you know how much exercise it took for me to get this lean?"

"Yes, I do. And all I did was sit and eat bon bons."

John sticks out his tongue and Caleb sends it right back.

Samuel laughs, a quiet giggle that erupts out from his stomach and into the air. "You guys are funny. I like you guys 3;" He pauses, scratching the side of his head. "Caleb, you're not that skinny, are you?"

"Well, he's not wearing much in the way of covering, you look yourself." John says, waving his hand at the two.

"He's thin -" Sam says matter-of-factly "- That's all I know."

"He's nothing but bone and sinew. If he didn't eat every day, I'm fairly sure he'd be a skeleton."

Sam giggles again. "No 3;," he says in the giggle, but gives Caleb a once over, to see if John is telling the truth.

"Well, I am skinny. But I think he's exaggerating."

"Show me!" says Samuel enthusiastically, "I'm not kidding. I want to see if you are as skinny as John makes you out to be."

"Oh 3; well. Alright, but be warned, I'm not wearing anything 3; kosher."

" 3;I'm not Jewish."

"No I mean 3; Ah, nevermind." Caleb stands and unclasps one bronze button from his overalls. When it falls, Sam can see a bit of Caleb's hip exposed.

Bare.

The second bronze button falls and the overalls billow to the ground.

Sam marvels at the design of this boy's body. He IS extremely slight. His stomach slightly concave, you could count his ribs, but there is some definite muscle definition in his stomach, arms, and legs, following Caleb's brings Sam's eyes to the lad's crotch.

There hangs a slender, pale, and circumcised piece of meat. It gently swings between Caleb's' skinny, defined legs. It seems rooted to his body by a small patch of dark bristly hair. His ball sack, uneven, one side swinging, and the other pulled up close to his body. He is the picture of perfection, no blemishes, nothing. He's smooth skin, marred only by the patch of hair.

"Oh Caleb, you should have just said you're not wearing anything 3; look you've shocked him into silence." John says putting down his empty mug.

"I'm sorry, I'll put it back on. It was just a cover-up, you came in quickly." He bends down to pull his overalls back up, but Samuel says 3;

"No 3; no 3; I like it 3; you 3; It's fine, I don't mind. You're pretty."

Caleb raises an eyebrow and nods. "Alright 3; well thank you. And thank you for indulging my weird habit."

"He's a nudist," John says resting his chin in his hand.

"You're a prude," Caleb says. He whisks the blanket off the couch and places it down. He sits.

Sam notices their hips still touch. With a blush he asks quietly, "What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Being naked all the time."

"Well, it can be pretty damn cold," John snorts from his seat.

"Hey, he seems genuinely interested," Caleb says feigning offense.

"Look, if you get him naked, you'll only take advantage of him. As far as I know, most nudists don't do that."

"Why can't you just go visit someone?"

"Fine. I'm taking my sleigh. If both of you aren't together by the time I'm back, I'll be sorely disappointed." John grabs a jacket and saunters out of the back of the cabin.

"Finally 3; so what did you want to know?"

Sam feels 3; something 3; prickle up his spine. What did John mean by being taken advantage of, or 3; being together?

"Sam? You okay?"

"Yeah 3;"

"Look, if you want to know some things, let me know."

Sam blinks trying to recall the questions he had for his new friend. "What's being naked all the time like?" he asks, putting forth his original question.

"Well, let's see. It's liberating, you have a lot more freedom in your movements, and your reach seems to increase ten fold. It is kind of nippy in the winter, but if you have a blanket to sit on, and a person to hold 3; it's pretty awesome."

"Oh 3;" The ginger pushes his glasses up on his nose. The snow had all melted and his clothes were heavy, soaked, and his hair clung to his forehead as if it were trying not to fall off.

"Why are you so interested? Thinking of going nude?"

Samuel feels his face heat up, from the tips of his ears down to the edge of his dimples 3;

"Oop, I see a blush."

Sam looks away for a second and bites his lip.

"Sam, it's not a bad thing. A lot of people just think it's weird."

Sam nods and clears his throat. "If I get naked too, would you laugh?"

"Only if you wanted me too 3;" Caleb pauses and looks Sam over. His bathrobe did little to hide the boy's figure. Sam wasn't quite as lean as he was, but he wasn't fat. He had a good amount of meat on him, and would probably age into a business suit very well. His slippers were soaked through, and the ends of his pants were still dripping onto the wooden floor. Caleb slips off the couch and sits near Sam's feet, slowly peeling the boys slippers off.

"These must be freezing cold," Caleb murmurs as he gazes upon the bright pink toes. Slippery with melted snow. He rubs them a little to circulate the blood and looks up at Sam, who's smiling, the heat and feeling of the hands sliding across his bare flesh soothing him. "Do you want to go natural?"

Sam puts his head back and blinks, his big glasses forcing everything to look larger than it really was. After a moment he nods hesitantly and stands up. He pulls the cloth belt off of his bathrobe, and it unsticks from his body a little more.

Caleb sees a little bit more chest before a T-Shirt becomes apparent.

Sam gets the bathrobe off and holds it out for Caleb to take. Caleb dutifully takes the robe and folds it over his arm, butler style. The next to come off is his soaked T-shirt, as it did little to hide the skin underneath, it was a relief for Sam to get it off. It felt like he had lifted twenty pounds off his shoulders. He hesitated at his pajama pants. He was about to untie the small pull tie and step out of the dripping sleeping garment when doubt struck him: He was getting naked in front of a complete stranger! How could he do that? Caleb noticed the hesitation, and decided to pick up the wet T-Shirt. He brings both articles of clothing near to the fire and hangs them up, pulling clothespins from a convenient small vase.

"Take your time, Samuel. It's a big decision. Easy for me only because of my solidarity in this winter wonderland, and the fact that I've been doing it mostly my whole life."

Sam is standing, the back of his legs now pressed against the couch. One hand on his pants tie, and the other, hanging there lifelessly. His eyes are downcast as he runs through the potential consequences. What if his mother found out? Or Santa? He couldn't cope. He looked over at Caleb with a confused look on his face, but the sight of the naked teen hanging laundry, his front illuminated brightly by the fire, spurred him. He pulled the cord as Caleb turned to look at him. The striped pajamas fall away. Small cloth boxers cling to his boyish frame diligently protecting their master. Samuel steps out of the pants and away from the couch. He runs his hands along his boxers' edges, licks his lips, inhales, and drops them.

They float slowly, almost teasingly to the ground.

Caleb smiles a broad smile, which reaches the tips of his ears and seems bigger than his face. "Well look at you. So all you've been hiding is that you're cuter than I am?" Sam blushes ten times brighter.

"Noooo." He smiles.

Caleb gives him a twice over. He is just a built as he expected, except he has freckles dotted all over his body. His nipples are like perk little tacks, and his body has built a little muscle, enough to give him the beginnings of a pack. He has nice long, firm, soccer playing legs. His belly button in a small concave, so small it's almost unseen. But what Caleb is most interested in is the small groin. The tiny little nut sack that is pulled close to the prepubescent crotch, it has a fat willy hanging down, so cute.

Sam rocks on his heels, and Caleb sits him down on the couch.

"Now, do you want to do something awesome to make you feel so warm?"

"I 3; I don't know. Will it make my eyes melt?"

"Not if you let me do it right."

"Oh- okay 3;"

Caleb reaches down with his slim piano playing fingers and grasps the little shaft between forefinger and thumb 3;

He moves slowly with a repetitive motion. The small meat begins to stir, and Sam feels his face flush. He puts out a hand to steady himself but only feels a lot of heat, and then a semi hard cock. He realizes that Caleb is getting hard, like himself. He feels his own cock throbbing, and the intense pleasure that should never end. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It's warm, and tingling.

The thought crosses his mind of, maybe, returning the favor to Caleb? Will it feel that good? He grasps the older boy's now almost fully erect cock and starts pumping. Almost instantly the dick goes rock hard and sticks all the way up. A little curved, but basically straight. He keeps pumping up and down, over and over. He can feel Caleb doing the same, his slender finger drawing the longest length out of Sam. Almost 4 inches [10 cm]. Caleb stretches to just over 5 and a half [14 cm], and he's a might bit thicker than Sam is. The tip of Caleb's meat is swollen and a magenta color that looks so angry. Like it's about to burst.

Caleb gasps loudly and bends over with one hand and grabs Sam's half full mug of Cocoa. "Aim it Sam. Aim it!"

Sam, despite his confusion, pulls on the cock so it aims at the cup. Two short blasts of white flies into the cup, splashing the hot cocoa out. Some gets on Sam's hand, some on Caleb's cock.

Quite suddenly the warm feeling in Sam's body goes to a brilliant white heat. A shock passes through his whole body that makes him gasp. His moan reaching its way up and out of the cabin. He almost collapses, but he stays conscious for a few seconds. Long enough to suck the cocoa off his hand and wipe it off Caleb's cock. He then slumps. His cheek resting on Caleb's inner thigh. His glasses going askew on his face.

Caleb rubs the kids head, and shakes the cocoa cup around a little. He smiles and speaks aloud, almost as if to Sam. "You know, I don't usually have that short a release time. I can usually go for a good long while. But something clicked this time, maybe it's the new face 3; John is handsome, but he's got nothing on a pretty face. And you've got pretty to spare." He looks down at the cup and breaths out.

The mug suddenly starts steaming again, a spoon materializes and begins stirring. The mug speaks aloud, "You want 3; what is this 3; Crème egg filling? In Hot Cocoa 3; Gross man."

Caleb rolls his eyes and places the mug down on the floor, letting the cup do its thing. It's a few minutes before the enchanted object deigns to speak again.

"What are you going to do with the boy?"

"Send him home. It's the only thing to do. I'd love to have him stay, but this isn't the wardrobe. Any time over two days spent here is spent in real time. You know that."

"He'll think it's just a dream."

"Yes well 3;" Caleb picks up the cup and looks it over, before smiling a bit, having concocted a plan.

"Hey, the big man frowns on product placement."

"Well, maybe just once 3;" He looks down at Sam's naked sleeping form and pats his head. "It is Christmas."

***

The sound of bells in the awaken Sam. He pulls away his covers and notices a draft. He looks down and sees that he's naked. Completely naked. He shakes his head and looks around, trying to shake the intense dream he had of mystic men in a cabin. In the woods, naked 3; It was making his head hurt, and his body heat up in a strange way.

He looks around for his clothes, he must have kicked them off in the night. He spies a small bundle of clothing, folded neatly, and pressed on a stool at the end of the bed. On top of which, was a flashlight, and a plate 3; with a mug and a piece of paper.

He reaches for the plate, realizing it's a saucer, and reads the note.

"Keep the Magic. Enjoy your Cocoa, it's our one of a kind blend. Love, Caleb." It's in a scrawled almost illegible script. He sniffs the hot chocolate. It smells good, almost a little musky. He takes a drink, a little lumpier than he'd of expected. A bit salty as well, but it brings back pleasant memories.

He glances down at the paper, and see two things, one says "Whenever you want to visit, the Toy Chest is always open for a true believer." The other was printed at the top, as if from a machine.

"From the desk of a 'Society for Amazing Nights and Terrific Antics' member."

Sam smiles and places the empty mug, saucer, and the folded note in his toy chest. He pulls on all his clothes, and wraps his bathrobe about him. It smells like a wood fire. He feels something large in his pocket. He pulls it out. It's a Santa hat with a note written on the tag.

"I wore this the whole time, lol."

He smiles and dons the cap. He glances at his clock.

Christmas Day, and it's 7 in the morning! Everyone needs to get up! He races out, looks over at his day by day calendar and marks off one of the most important days ever.

The End