Title: Chrismukkah Cheer (The O.C.)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Story, romance, Ryan POV
Spoilers: Set immediately after "The Best Chrismukkah Ever"
Rating: Strong R for scenes of m/m interaction
Pairing: Seth/Ryan
Summary: Gift-giving

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. The O.C. is the property of Josh Schwartz, Dave Bartis, Doug Liman, and McG, Warner Brothers Television, Hypnotic Productions, and the Fox Network. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is part of my as-yet untitled O.C. stories series, which can be found on my webpage at http://jfc.freeshell.org/stories.html - Enjoy!

DEDICATION: For Tiff: okay, I lied.

COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, February 1, 2004, jfc@freeshell.org

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.



Holidays are a time of giving. It was my turn.

Outwardly, Seth cheered up at my story of dodging a ticket when I drove Marissa home last night. I was getting pretty good at reading him, though, and could tell that he was still depressed about striking out with both Summer and Anna.

"So, what do we do on Chrismukkah?" I asked innocently.

"There is always dinner involved. Dad's pretty good at making roast beef, so I just let him go nuts in the kitchen all afternoon. There might even be Yorkshire pudding!"

"I thought there were cookies for dessert..."

"No--Yorkshire pudding is awesome! It goes with the roast, and, well... You'll just have to see for yourself!"

I leaned up from our spot on the couch to scope out the kitchen. Sandy was just browning a raw hunk of meat in a roasting pan on top of the stove. "Something tells me we've got a couple of hours to kill..."

Seth's eyes darted up under his eyebrows as he listened to the sizzle in the next room. "Guess so. You hungry now?"

Discretion being the better part of valor and all, I swallowed the response I wanted to give him. I mean, he's a friend--my best friend in the whole world, to be exact. But even though there was a girl in my life, I couldn't deny that my feelings for him were sometimes a little more than just friendly.

So maybe the atmosphere was right for me to test the theory that these not-quite-brotherly feelings might be mutual. Why not, I figured--as he himself swore, miracles were always a possibility, at least on Chrismukkah.

"Naaah," I answered, "I can wait. Whaddya wanna do until dinner?"

Immediately he lunged for the box of game cartridges. "Hey! We can try to get to level twelve of--"

Grabbing his arm, I tugged him back onto the couch. "Come out to the poolhouse," I said, less in invitation than in insistence.

"Why?" he said, suddenly a ten-year-old being asked to leave his new toys behind on Christmas Day, or, um, whatever.

"Haven't given you my gift."

"But you said..."

"No gifts. I know. This is special," I teased, hoping he wouldn't expect anything that cost money.

He considered my words with a grown-up frown for a second, then showed his true colors. "Race ya!" he barked, bolting from the room and leading the way outside. Sighing amusedly, I had no choice but to catch up to him.

When I got to my door, he was already bouncing from foot to foot in front of it. "It's not that big a deal, Seth," I tried to warn him.

He caught my eye and smiled sweetly. "I don't care. It's from you. It's special. You said so yourself. Therefore, it's a big deal."

I smiled back while I chuckled at him inwardly, opening the door for him. "Have a seat," I offered.

Foregoing the other seating surfaces, Seth plopped himself down on the edge of my bed. Maybe he had some idea of what I had planned after all...

Since I lived in a glass house, I had learned all of its tricks early on. I moved to the corner of the room and tugged on a hidden cord, releasing a whole series of shades. The blinds blocked the view to the outside, as well as the one from the inside out, but let in some of the afternoon sunlight. Seth watched me warily as I took a seat near him on the bed. "Almost nobody ever closes those blinds."

"Where do guests put on their swimsuits?" I asked, mystified.

"In the bathroom, usually. But that's cool. I like it. So is there gonna be a slideshow?"

Trying not to stall, I steeled myself to make my first move, not very successfully. "No. No slideshow."

"So what, then? Shadow puppets?"

His playful mood should have been appealing, but instead it just put me off. I got up and started pacing nervously.

The carpeting under my feet muffled the stomping I would have liked to make, but also apparently distracted me from the eyes staring at me with warm concern. I didn't notice these until I heard Seth's voice ask, "Did I spoil it?" When I took a glance at my friend, I stopped where I stood to note his expression. "I'm sorry if I got too silly. Come on." His voice grew soft and serious in a way that I didn't expect. "Sit back down and give me your gift. I promise I'll be surprised."

With a shrug, I sat beside him again, wishing he'd chosen the couch so I'd have had somewhere to put my hands. My eyes fell on his face, which was open and accepting and patient like Seth never usually was.

"So," he nearly purred, "are you gonna tell me what it is?"

Swallowing quickly, I nodded carefully. "I thought I'd give you a little Chrismukkah cheer."

He smiled but he didn't laugh out loud. This gave me courage. "You snuck something out here from my dad's liquor cabinet?" he teased.

"No," I swore, rubbing my suddenly-sweaty hands on my pants legs.

"Chrismukkah cheer, you said?" he verified, to which I nodded my agreement. "Well, then... gimme a C."

A sharp inhalation filled my lungs, and I made my move. I reached out one hand and put it directly between his legs, hunting around with my fingers to figure out just how he'd tucked himself away.

"Dude..." he warned, but he didn't move or push me away.

"C is for cock," I recited before I lost my voice from terror.

The moment dragged out like I expect my last one on earth to feel. At last, he half-smiled and looked into my eyes. "Yes," he responded. "It is that, indeed."

Warmth seeped into my hand through his pants, and the organ inside swelled perceptibly. "Is this... Do you..." I mumbled, not daring to look down.

"What's H for?" he asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up and his teeth peeking out in surprise and pleasure.

"Hand," I said quickly, grasping the length of him through the fabric.

His eyes closed, but the smile never left his lips. "Good." Just when I was starting to get comfortable in this position, he jumped up a little, startling but not dislodging me. "Wait!"

I froze. "What?"

"Let me do something." Brushing my hand away softly, he unfastened his belt and opened his fly, then raised up for a split second to tug down his tighty-whities.

There it was: pink, circumcised, poking up at his heart, and ready for its first touch by anyone but its owner. "C is for cock," I repeated, my voice suddenly rough and similarly unused.

With his fingers encircling my wrist, he coaxed me back into position. "And H is for hand," he agreed, nodding his encouragement as I clutched him carefully. Neither of us dared moved for a second, until he continued. "How about R?"

I stroked him up to the tip and back down to the root once, then again. "R is for rub," I decided, doing so as I said it.

Seth leaned back, stiffening his elbows and propping his hands on my bed. "I... didn't know how to ask for this..." he whispered, his eyes slipping shut again.

"I... wondered if it would be okay."

He started to speak, then gasped lightly and began again. "Okay and then some." Aside from his overly loud breaths, we both sat silently for several moments, every crumb of our attention focused on the action in his lap. "Gimme an S," he hissed gently.

With a smile of my own, I bent my head over him. "S is for suck," I said with no voice whatsoever.

Half-lidded eyes caught mine lazily. "I was kinda hopin' it was," he answered, grinning broadly.

Suddenly I hesitated. "Is there a T in Chrismukkah?"

His face fell. "No. No T."

"Damn," I taunted slyly. "No tongue, then."

"But M is for mouth," he sighed triumphantly.

I couldn't help chuckling a little. "So it is." Repositioning myself, I opened my lips and slid them over his perfect tip. Seth gasped audibly and groaned deeply as I went to work.

There had been a few blowjobs in my past, so I had some experience to fall back on. However, he didn't require much stimulation, since this was almost obviously his first time. Nothing as exotic as deep-throating, but some dedicated licking and slurping did the trick, along with my fist still gripping the part I couldn't quite reach.

"Uh, uh, uh," he grunted, then gave a long moan and came hot in my mouth. I swallowed quickly, lapping up the excess to keep our holiday clothes as clean as possible.

When I was sure he was finished, I let go of his penis and sat back up to revel in the sight of his face so relaxed and ecstatic all at once. "Good?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, his jaw hanging open as he caught his breath, then chased after a stray droplet of drool on his lip with his tongue.

"So I guess that was U..."

"K..." he chanted softly.

"You mean okay?"

Shaking his head no firmly, he repeated, "K." He blinked as if waking up, then looked at me and raised one hand. My worries were calmed by his touch on the back of my neck pushing my head toward his, so I tilted my face and kissed him enthusiastically. Reluctantly, I pulled back a little to breathe, whereupon he stopped me. "Two Ks in Chrismukkah..." Snorting a little laugh, I dove back in, tilted the other way for variety, and resumed a very wonderful kiss.

Eventually, we broke apart, merriment in our eyes and crazy grins on our faces. As was typical, Seth spoke first. "Thank you, Ryan. I liked my gift a lot."

"I'm glad. I thought you would. But we're not done."


Confidently, I requested, "Gimme an A."

"Whaddya mean?"


"Maybe not just yet. You, maybe?"

"I'd like that. Think you can handle it?"

"I'm smart. I'm a real fast learner."

"Good," I laughed out loud. "H is for happy. Happy?"

There really wasn't any need for my question, because it showed all over his expression. "Very. Merry Chrismukkah, Ryan," he added, pushing me slowly onto my back and settling on top of me.

"Merry Chrismukkah, Seth." His mouth muffled any further words from mine.

So holidays are for receiving, too. Lucky for me.



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