There's another present under the tree.

It's wrapped in silver paper—the kind Noah saw on the presents at the Snyder house—and there's a tag with his name scrawled in Luke's handwriting. It's the third present of its kind. At the sight, Noah panics slightly.

Maybe not just slightly. Maybe he has to wipe his palms on his jeans, exhale quietly, and take a swig from his water bottle because his mouth goes a little drier each time he notices that Luke has found what is sure to be another perfect gift for him.

Luke's poking around the kitchen, talking about how he always burns his toast and he'd rather go out for breakfast anyway and he wasn't meant to cook, if making toast counts as cooking, and Noah tunes him out and presses his finger against the corner of the silver package. He wonders if Luke has noticed that there isn't a single present under the tree with his name on it yet.

"No worries, Mayer," Noah mumbles under his breath. "It's only the day before Christmas Eve… there's time…" He rolls his eyes at himself.

He thought for sure by now he'd have finished the film he'd been making for Luke. Thought for sure he'd at least have developed the idea for the film he'd been making. Thought for sure pure adrenaline would have made an appearance by now and kicked him into gear.

"Hey babe, I was thinking—" Luke's voice makes Noah jump. He turns to see Luke munching on a piece of blackened toast and angling his head toward the Christmas tree. "Maybe we could do our Christmas thing tonight, before we go over to my mom's for her Christmas Eve deal tomorrow?"

"Luke," Noah starts, still panicked.

"It's just, I don't want to wait until we'll be home Christmas night to give you your gifts, but I'd rather do it in private…" Luke polishes off the toast and wraps his arms around Noah's waist. "So whaddaya say? Tonight?"

Luke's got the damn puppy face on. No one can argue with that.

Noah slips out for the afternoon and frantically pokes through shops, looking for some kind of random, totally-perfect last minute gift for Luke. Finally he finds a green sweater in Luke's size and even though it feels pathetic and unoriginal, he buys it and has it gift-wrapped.

And of course Luke makes everything perfect that night, which only makes Noah feel worse. It's perfect in its imperfection—some lights on the tree are burned out, and Luke can't even wait until they finish a pan of partially-burnt macaroni and cheese to begin, and the heat in the apartment suddenly decides to stop working so they have to throw on a few extra shirts and pairs of socks and Luke practically ends up in Noah's lap when they settle down to open presents.

(Noah can't help but think that it's probably their least well-planned, most romantic night yet.)

Luke pushes presents, one after another, into Noah's hands, his eyes lighting up like he's seven years old again, twice as pleased to give than receive (not unlike how he is in the bedroom, Noah thinks with a smirk). There's a sweater (probably twice as expensive as the one Noah bought him, but he tries to push that thought away, knowing Luke wouldn't care about things like that), software for making DVD labels, and an amazing leather bag for his video camera. By the time Luke is promising that there's another gift for him at the Snyder farm, Noah's heart has managed to simultaneously swell like the Grinch's and sink into his stomach.

Noah distracts Luke for a few minutes by pinning him down to the floor, almost under the tree, and kissing him, over and over, until they're straining against each other and Noah's breathing so hard that he can hardly catch his breath to say, "Can we… bedroom…?"

Despite the fact that Luke's leg is curled around Noah's and his fingers are buried in his hair, he shakes his head in protest. "Hmm-mm… I want my present first."

Noah's lips find his again and he positions his hips over Luke, grinding into him, his teeth grazing over his mouth, attempting to drive thought from Luke's head.

"Mmmph… Noah… c'mon. I see what you're doing."

"What?"

"Trying to distract me because you don't think you're a good gift-giver." Luke chuckles and manages to push Noah off of him long enough to grab the remaining present from under the tree. He gives him a boyish grin as he flicks off the store-wrapped bow and begins on the paper.

Noah realizes his jaw is clenched and he's nearly wincing, watching Luke open this stupid sweater, until finally it just bursts out of him. "Luke, don't--"

Luke freezes. "Don't?"

There's a full-body blush creeping over Noah's skin. "Don't… don't open that. It's not—I didn't—" He groans. Sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

"Baby… what is it?" Luke drops the box and reaches out to touch his arm, his long fingers wrapping around Noah's wrist.

"I totally failed, Luke."

They stare at each other for a moment. "I'm sure whatever it is, I'll love it," Luke finally says, bewildered.

"No… no, it's not… it's just—I had this great idea for a gift I was going to give you this year," Noah says. "I… I was going to make you this film. About… I don't know what about. About you, I guess. Like a tribute to you, kind of, and…" his voice trails to a mumble. "And all the things I love about you." He rushes on quickly. "But I didn't. Didn't get it done. I couldn't? Nothing was coming out right. Because I couldn't film you, because it was a secret, and all I wanted to do was film you. Ever since we moved in together. Or ever since we met, maybe. I just wanted…" He looks up at Luke, meets his eye, and reaches out to lay his palm over Luke's chest. "This," he says. "This is what I wanted. All of…" He runs his hand over Luke, from the center of his chest, over his shoulder, down his side to his hip. "All of this. All of you. I wanted to capture it somehow…"

He's rambling. He swallows hard, wishing Luke would say something.

"I didn't know how. Didn't know how to show you how I…"

Luke's face has been near-blank, but he lifts his hand finally, catching it over Noah's. "Noah…"

"No, don't say anything," Noah says. "I should have gotten you something else. Something better. That, that's just a stupid sweater." He motions to the still-unopened box.

Luke's eyes widen, mostly in laughter. "Noah! You just ruined the surpri—"

"Forget that," Noah says, seriously now, his gaze furrowed and focused on Luke. "You know exactly what to get me, exactly how to make everything perfect and feel like home tonight, and I can't even finish the one little project that I…" he shakes his head again. "I wish I could make this up to you."

Luke smiles that perfect, bashful smile, that smile that says he doesn't quite believe that Noah really feels the same way he does, that makes him seem endearingly like a lost kid hoping for love. He leans into Noah's chest, wrapping his arms around him, too tight for Noah to get away. "So show me. Just tell me about it. What you wished you could have filmed."

And it's easy to begin.

So easy, when the first time Noah really noticed how Luke looked is still so fresh in his mind.

Luke isn't self-conscious about his body. Not that Noah notices, anyway.

Which he isn't. Doing. Noticing. That is.

Because this is just a swim on a summer evening, and this is just the Snyder's pond, and those are just the muscles rippling across Luke's back, and there's nothing unusual about that, no, nothing at all.

There's nothing unusual about the easy way Luke pulls himself up from the water to the dock in one clean motion, water dripping from his elbows in the fading light, running down the curve of his spine in rivets, falling from the tips of every lock of hair like rain drops…

Nope, definitely nothing unusual about that.

"Noah.. you coming?" Luke is asking, reaching for the towel he'd tossed on the end of the dock and rising back upright again with an easy toss of his hair. He reminds Noah of something powerful, like a tree, like a horse, like something that ripples and sways and runs and catches rain on its skin just so it can gleam in the light.

And when Noah regains his senses, remembers that Luke is just some guy, emphasis on guy, hello, he ducks under the surface of the water and stays there until his lungs burn and his feet kick him toward the surface, and toward Luke, almost against his will.

"You remember that moment? That specifically?" Luke asks, lifting his head from Noah's chest to look at him in amazement. "I thought I was such an idiot that night… splashing around like that… and you ran off so quickly afterward."

"Yeah. Well," Noah says with a quick grin, "I had some… business. To attend to."

Luke snorts and lets a hand drift down to the crotch of Noah's jeans. "I'll bet you did."

"I wish I could capture that on film though," Noah sighs. "Your back… your hair…" He kisses the top of Luke's head and smiles. "Soaking wet…"

Luke is quiet for a long moment.

"What else?"

There's no biological reason that Luke should have the Snyder hands. But he does. Noah noticed it the first time he met Holden, and he's noticed how even little Ethan's hands have that quick curvature that will develop into strong, sturdy hands.

Luke's hands can catch a basketball and put it through a hoop with a tiny flick of his fingers… they can swoop a fishing rod back and forth over the pond like they know the exact lazy speed to fool the fishes into taking the bait… they know how to grip Noah's hips when they're pressed tight up against each other, gasping for breath… they know exactly where to touch and tease, how hard to grip, how softly to stroke, how to time their every movement to send Noah's senses exploding over the edge.

They know how to make Noah's heart trip in his chest just by trailing along Luke's jaw when he's thinking hard, and how to turn Noah into a drooling stack of lust by sliding through Luke's hair and tousling it exactly so.

Luke's hands fit exactly in his. The first time they see a movie together as boyfriends, he spends the entire first hour wondering how Luke feels about hand-holding in public, until finally Luke reaches casually over and laces his perfect fingers through Noah's.

(As Noah recalls later, that was one of the better movies he saw that year.)

Noah pulls Luke's hand up to his and kisses the palm softly, teasing his tongue against the sensitive skin, tasting the faint edge of soap. He licks gently up Luke's palm, sliding his tongue between the fingers, back and forth with a slow burn, until he feels Luke shudder slightly and pull back. "You should've taken up piano," Noah teases lightly. "You have a musician's fingers."

Luke snorts, his eyes still half-closed with pleasure. "No… never could commit to something like that."

"You commit to plenty."

Luke's eyes flutter all the way shut as he slides his body down so he's leaning on his elbow on Noah's lap, facing him. "Tell me what else you see through your director's eyes."

Noah looks up at the tree, thinking. "I don't know if it's my director's eyes so much as I'm just horny for you all the time." He yelps as Luke smacks his thigh. "All right, all right… you have the most perfect mouth."

"Well I don't know about perfect..."

"Sssh. Quiet on set."

"Sorry."

It's December when they have the kiss that Noah thinks of as perfect. They've kissed a hundred times before. He remembers most of them—their first kiss, second kiss, third kiss, kisses that melted into uncountable fluid kisses, kisses that eventually led to more, kisses that led to touching, kisses on their mouths, necks, chests, kisses that lingered before moving southward, kisses that caused them to grip each other's hair in ecstasy, kisses and kisses and kisses.

But there is one particular kiss.

It's right outside the barn at the Snyder farm. Luke says his grandma Emma calls this moon the Full Cold Moon, that it always makes the snow look purple and blue and that it would look like the creekwater ran black if there weren't ripples of moonlight every few seconds. Noah thinks he could stand here shivering and listening to Luke talk until New Year's if Emma would let them.

Luke points to something across the field and licks his lip, because it's winter and everything is a little dry, and his lips are full and dark in the dim light. Noah can actually, literally, see how their breath mingles as it hovers in the air and they bend their heads together for a moment.

They're both bundled up so tight that when they touch they just feel layers of clothes, and Noah wants to kiss him, to feel the heat of him. "I love December," he mumbles and presses his lips to Luke's, deepening the kiss as Luke sinks forward into him. He slides his tongue past Luke's teeth and brushes it over his tongue, circling it, reveling in the hot wetness, like a flame in the middle of an iceland.

Their noses brush and Noah had forgotten he could feel with anything other than his mouth.

"You could never get all these on film," Luke says, breaking the trace of the memory.

"Obviously," Noah acknowledges.

"It's better that way."

Noah sighs. "I know it is."

"But you wish you had it all on film anyway."

"Of course I do."

They sit in silence for a full minute, and then the heat kicks on, making them both look up. "Merry Christmas to us," Noah murmurs. When he looks back, Luke's pulled off most of his clothes and is slipping off his boxers. "Um… Luke… what are you—"

Luke lifts his hand and claps it lightly over Noah's mouth. "I want to feel you. All of you."

A moment later they're both naked and tangled up in each others' bodies, Noah quickly finding the sensitive spot under Luke's jaw that makes them both shudder and murmur softly, letting Noah know that it's definitely gonna be a happy Christmas despite his stupid sweater gift. After a few minutes, Luke guides Noah's hand downward, and their eyes open on each other.

Noah can't help but smile down at his boyfriend as he grips his dick and strokes it. Luke's head falls back as he groans quietly. "There's another thing I love about you," Noah murmurs. "That moment… that moment when you're out of your mind with it—"

"With… with what…"

"You know."

"Want you to say it."

"When you're out of your mind with pleasure, when I'm fucking the hell out of you, you dirty jackass."

Luke starts to laugh but it turns into a moan as he jerks up into Noah's hand. "Like our first—first time—"

Noah passes his thumb over the tip of Luke's erection and leans down, grazing his teeth over Luke's mouth. "Mmm. Like our first time." He's so turned on that he could come just by kissing Luke right now, but he takes the memory slow, rolling Luke onto his stomach, kissing his way down his back.

"So warm… you're so warm, baby," he says against Luke's skin.

"Never knew you felt like this," Noah says in a near-gasp, rolling over to pin Luke down on the bed, letting Luke do the same to him. They're battling for control, battling to give the other control, trying every possible solution to the puzzle of their bodies. Nothing's close enough, but Noah never knew… never knew how warm it was, skin against skin, especially when they're both hard and gasping and ready for this.

"Love you, love you, love you…" Luke can't say it enough. It's not as easy for Noah, but he manages to whisper it, "love you, Luke," into his ear before they're crashing into another hard kiss and tasting each other all over, licking, sucking, groaning for more or less or more-fucking-more-damn-it. By the time they've emptied half the bottle of lube and Luke's ready for Noah to push inside, they're both out of their minds.

It's not like he imagined it would be.

He thought he'd have a modicum of control. He thought he'd be gentler with Luke—he tries, but Luke's so damn insistent, he wants everything harder-faster-more—and he thought it wouldn't feel so tight, so fucking hot, so chaotic and perfect and Luke…

It takes all his willpower to master the braincells to reach around and grip Luke's cock, driving them both forward until Luke comes hard against the bed and Noah buries himself so far inside Luke, thrusting so hard, so far, that he's never going to get himself back…

"You'd want—that—on—video?" Luke gasps as Noah thrusts hard into him, knocking a brightly-colored ornament off their little tree with his shoulder.

"Fuck yeah," Noah says, closing his eyes tight and pressing his lips to the back of Luke's neck, the scent of sweat and spice flooding his senses. "Rated X tribute to you."

Luke stops talking then, just pushes back hard and groans, pulling Noah's hand around to touch his cock, just like the first time. Noah gives into Luke's pleading for more, just like the first time. He bites softly on Luke's shoulder as he feels the climax coming on and burning through his entire body, toes to the top of his head, coming so hard inside Luke that he thinks he might pass out, and it's like the first time but different, different every time, better.

When they collapse on the carpet, catching their breath and staring up at their meager Christmas décor, Luke drops his head to the side to look at him. "Okay," he breathes. "I'm not going to say that counts as a Christmas present… but…"

Noah looks back, his hand reaching over to trace Luke's fingers, his gaze settling on his smile. "But?"

"But you've made a good start on it."

Noah chuckles. After a moment he rolls himself back onto Luke, his mouth pressed into his cheek. "A very good start."

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