Before you read: Be advised that the follow chapter contains sexual content, enacted in manner that would be considered irresponsible. Please proceed with caution.

Chapter 8: The Gift

"Season one and two of Duck Dynasty on blue ray! Oh Joe, thank you!" Gushed Aunt Gertrude.

"You're welcome Aunt Gertie. Mom said you really enjoyed the show."

"Are you kidding? She can be watching that show in her room and we'll hear her cackle all the way in here." said Fenton.

"I don't cackle Fenton, that's not lady-like." sniffed Aunt Gertrude. She turned the cases over.

"Oooo! It has two hours of out-takes and deleted scenes."

Vanessa had given Joe a hard time for picking out such a gift for his aunt. Joe turned smugly to his fiancée.

"Told you." he whispered.

Christmas day had arrived and the Hardy clan had descended upon Laura and Fenton's home to exchange gifts celebrate and eat. This meant more festive, stick-to-your-ribs food. Frank was starting to consider calling Biff after New Years to see if he would cut him a deal on gym membership. But moving up a notch on his belt was worth it for the way he felt right now. Frank had a major case of the warm and fuzzies, surrounded by his family and cuddled on the couch with his boyfriend.

The family room of his parents' house looked as if Martha Stewart herself had come down to Bayport to help his mother decorate. No room in the house went untouched, down to the Santa Claus toilet lid. However, old Martha would have passed out if she saw the shape the family room was in now. Gift wrap paper, bows and ribbons were strewn over the floor, boxes in untidy stacks, and Douglas fir needles scattered here and there. It was great.

"So Phil, what did Frank give you?" Vanessa asked from her perch on the ottoman.

"We haven't exchanged yet, we'll do that later tonight." Phil answered. Frank squeezed his hand and smiled.

"Oh, that's so sweet. Fenton and I used to do that after you boys had gone to bed on Christmas night. Just a little "us" time." Laura said.

…..

"Us" time for Frank and Phil finally arrived later that night back in their apartment. The last of the menorah candles had burnt out, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating. The Christmas tree lights were still burning, but other than that the den was dark. Phil sat back in an armchair with his feet propped on the coffee table, sipping a beer in quiet reflection. Frank had excused himself to the bathroom, but had closed the bedroom door behind him.

When Frank returned to the den Phil looked up to see he had changed into a soft, v-neck t-shirt and a pair of silky pajama bottoms.

"Are you feeling okay, thought you were going to take up residence in there?" Phil asked as Frank sank down onto the sofa.

"No, never better." Frank answered, though his voice was a little shaky.

Phil wasn't quite convinced, but he picked up the small rectangular box he had retrieved from under the tree.

"Well here, Merry Christmas, Frank." Frank took the box from his boyfriend, tugging on the ribbon and carefully tearing off the paper. Inside was a men's silver I.D. bracelet, but instead of his initials or name being engraved on the center link, there was an intricate scrolling pattern with an emerald baguette in the center.

"Phil, it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Look at the inscription." Frank turned over the center link, in scripted letters were the words: I won't lose you.

For a moment, Frank's mind flashed back to the heart wrenching conversation he'd had with Eric so long ago: "I can't lose you Frank! I can't! What if you were kidnapped killed..."

As his and Phil's relationship had developed, and they had discussed their past loves, he recalled telling Phil the details of his break up with Eric. What was Phil trying to say now?

"Phil? What… You know that I…" Phil moved to sit beside Frank on the couch.

"Really read what it says, silly. "I won't lose you". And I won't." He picked up the bracelet and fixed it to Frank's left wrist, then he placed that hand over his own heart. Frank could feel the steady thump of Phil's heart in his chest.

"Frank, you ask for nothing. You give more than you take. You put your life on the line for others, because it's the right thing to do. You touch so many lives without realizing it. And you have touched my life, and my heart.

No one knows what's out there, what will happen tomorrow, to me, to you. But I do know this, I love you Frank Hardy, and I won't lose you. Because you've planted a part of yourself right here." Phil pressed Frank's hand more firmly to emphasize the last point. Phil's eyes had started to sting, never in his life had he bared his soul in such a way to anyone.

Frank's throat started to constrict, words would not come. Phil Cohen had just said he loved him. If he could, he would have run to the rooftop and shouted it out to the city. Instead he was rooted to the spot, tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Oh Frank, I didn't mean to make you cry…" Phil let go of Frank's hand to wipe away a tear, but Frank lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck. He mashed his lips against Phil's, opening his mouth licking against those soft, full lips. Phil took the hint and let that tongue glide in, sweep around, dance with his. A few times their teeth clacked against each other, their noses bumped, Phil started to get dizzy, lost in the passion of the kiss.

Frank let go, gasping.

"You're wrong Phil." He cupped Phil's cheek in his hand, "It's you who has been so giving. You've always been there for me, always been my rock to lean on when I couldn't figure out who or what I was. You gave me acceptance when I felt like all my friends were going to turn their backs on me. In just a few months you've made me the happiest that I've ever been. Phil, with you, I feel like I belong. That I've finally come home." Both of them were crying now. Frank leaned in, placing gentle kisses across Phil's cheeks, his eye lids, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

"I love you." He whispered in Phil's ear. He sat back and cleared his throat in an effort to regain his composure. "I haven't given you your present yet."

"Frank, I told you…"

"It's in the bedroom, c'mon." Frank stood, tugging Phil's hand as he rose. Phil sighed and allowed himself to be led.

When Frank opened the bedroom door Phil was surprised to see what his boyfriend had waiting for him. The bed was turned down, and the pillows were fluffed and propped up. Votive candles were lit and placed on the bedside tables, along the window sills and on the dresser. Soft music was coming from the stereo. Frank stood in front of Phil.

"What's this all about?"

"This is my gift to you. You said that what you wanted couldn't be put in a box, that I was all you wanted. But there's a part of me that you don't have." Phil raised an eyebrow but kept listening. "I never been this intimate with anyone Phil, and I now know why. It never felt right, and it never felt like this." Frank took both of Phil's hands in his, lifting them and brushing his lips against Phil's knuckles.

Phil felt like his knees were going to give out. Surely Frank's not… Oh dear G-d in Heaven is he…

"Phil, my gift to you is me. All of me, I want to make love with you."

"You're giving me your virginity, for Christmas?" Phil asked slowly, enunciating each word to make sure even he understood what was going on here.

"Christmas, Fourth of July, second Tuesday in June. My point is I'm ready. I've never felt so sure of something like this in my life. If you're not ready, I understand. I'll wait until then. But I'm yours." Phil's mouth had gone completely dry by the time Frank was done. He was stunned, elated, overwhelmed…

"Okay," he started, "How… what would you like to do?" This was definitely not Phil's first time being on the giving or receiving end of sex, he liked both ways. But if this was going to be Frank's first, Phil was more than willing to be on the bottom if it would make it more comfortable for him.

"Take me, Phillip." Frank eyelids lowered in a sultry way. "Make love to me."

"Are you sure you want it that way? It, eh, it can be pretty uncomfortable the first time. You'll be sore tomorrow for sure."

"I know, I know." Frank blushed, "I did some reading online, watched a few videos…"

Phil's cock twitched strongly. The thought of shy, innocent Frank watching gay porn and taking notes made Phil want to throw him down on the bed and ravish him without prelude. He swallowed thickly, trying to restrain himself.

"You didn't happen to buy any, um, supplies when you were planning all this?" Phil waved his hand toward the room. Frank nodded.

"Are you saying you'll accept your gift?" Frank cocked his head to the side, a coy smile playing at his lips. Frank had released Phil's hands and was beginning to toy with the top button on his boyfriend's shirt.

"Yes." Phil cradled Frank's head in his hands, planting a kiss on his lips. "Yes (kiss), yes (kiss)."

Frank's fingers were working their way down Phil's shirt, popping buttons until he reached his waist. He unbuckled the belt at Phil's waist and lowered his zipper, reached in and ran his hand along the bulge waiting there. Phil drew in a steadying breath.

"Frank, baby if you keep that up we're not going to get anywhere." He gently pushed Frank down onto the bed. Frank removed his t-shirt, and watched as Phil finished getting undressed. He arched his back and lifted his hips when his boyfriend leaned over to divest him of his pajama bottoms. Soon they were both lying on the bed, facing each other. Phil kissed the tender skin of Frank's neck, lathing his tongue along the tendon, nipping on the skin at the junction of his collar bone. Here he indulged in sucking on the flesh there, gently biting down. A small cry escaped Frank's lips as a foreign ripple of pleasure coursed through him. His fingers dug into Phil's shoulders, sure to leave a bruise.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yesss…" Frank hissed. He threw a leg over Phil's hip to draw him closer, their cocks slotting together. Phil returned to that spot, soothing it and nipping again. While he was distracting Frank with his mouth, the hand that he had been running up and down the brunette's side slid down to his hip, then his thigh. He hooked his hand under Frank's knee, hiking it up slightly higher. Phil's hand slowly traveled back up, caressing the skin along the way. He ran his fingers over the roundness of Frank's bottom, then began to grip and knead, working his way closer to his center. Experimentally, his fingertips grazed the puckered skin there.

"Ahh…" Frank gasped. Phil stroked again, teasing lightly and was rewarded with a mewling sound this time.

"Where's the lube and stuff?"

"Drawer." Phil turned over to Frank's bedside table and blindly felt around for the bottle of lube. His fingers ran over what felt like a cardboard box, he grabbed that too and set it on the table top. Phil turned back over to Frank and flipped the bottle open with a soft click and coated his fingers. He returned to where he'd left, stroking a slick finger around the outside, teasing the middle.

Frank shivered at the cold touch, but the liquid soon warmed. Phil began to gently nudge his center, not enough to breach yet, but was applying more pressure with each pass. So this is how it begins, thought Frank. He was nervous, but he trusted Phil, with his heart, with his life. He buried his face in the crook of Phil's shoulder and neck.

"Feel good so far?" Yes, everything felt good so far. It was as if Frank's skin had come alive, and every touch made it sing. Frank nodded into Phil's shoulder.

"Take a breath." Phil instructed, and Frank did. "Now breathe out." As Frank let it out he felt the first intrusion into his being. Just the tip of a finger, it was a strange feeling, no denying that, but it didn't hurt. Phil withdrew it and pushed in again, and again. Just when Frank was used to the sensation, Phil upped the ante, pushing all the way in. Frank's breath hitched at the sting of the stretch.

"Breathe baby." Phil continued to pump his finger in and out. "I won't lie, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. But it will get better, I promise." He pressed a kiss to Frank's temple. As Frank's breathing evened out Phil could feel him relax around his finger, after a few more goes he covered Frank's mouth in a hard, deep kiss. That was when he added the second.

"Ngh! Gaah! Fuck!" Frank cried as tears began to collect out of the corners of his eyes.

"Want me to stop?"

"No… keep going." He choked.

Phil sat up, urging Frank onto his back and spreading his legs. Frank had gone soft from the pain, so Phil bent down, teasing him with kitten licks. Frank began to harden, and whimper, his senses a confusion of pleasure and pain. Gradually the fullness started to feel… good. He relaxed, his hips pushing back in tandem with Phil's efforts. Phil then changed the angle of his hand, crooking his fingers and pressing against the fleshy nub he knew would be there. Frank yelped, his hands clutched the sheets and he legs spread out further.

"Wha… wha was that…?" Frank looked down at Phil with unfocused eyes.

"Your prostate." He went back down on Frank, lazily sucking.

"Damn, that feels so goo… Ah! " His words were cut off by the addition of the third finger.

Frank's thighs started to quiver from the strain. Phil took one of Frank's hands with his free one, and the returning grasp was sure to make his fingers go numb. The fingers that were stretching Frank's entrance then began to separate and scissor, working against the instinctive pressure against them.
"Hurts…" Frank forced out through his clenched teeth. Phil glanced up to see moisture glistening on his boyfriend's cheeks.

"We can st…"

"No!"

"Then you need to relax. Please, baby. Like I told you, take a breath in, let it out really slow through you mouth." Phil felt like a bastard for hurting him. He also felt like a bastard for letting the way Frank's head was thrown back, the way his body squirmed, and the sight of Frank's most intimate parts do such naughty things to him. He had to remind himself to regulate his own breathing, it was still going to be a while before they reached their goal, and he just had to make it until then.

When he noticed there was less resistance against his fingers, and that Frank was relaxing again, he curled his fingers to tease that prostate. The yelps and sharp moans were a welcome change from the painful hissing and grunting. They picked back up their dance from before, the synchronized push and pull of hands and hips.

"You're so tight Frank, you're gonna feel so damn good when I get inside you." Phil encouraged. Frank's tension-blotched face darkened even more at those words.

"I think…I'm ready." Frank panted. Phil removed his fingers, and the brunette moaned at the loss of the fullness he'd just come accustomed to. The raven haired boy sought out the lube and box of condoms, but Frank touched his wrist.

"No, I want to feel everything, and you should as well."

"Frank…" Phil warned.

"I know you're clean, we both have been tested. Please." Phil turned his head from Frank's pleading eyes. Damn puppy eyes.

Phil grabbed a pillow, nudging it under Frank's hips and backside. Oh, the glorious view of Frank on display, just for him. His hole was stretched and slicked with lube, cock straining and red, his well-toned chest was rising and falling sharply. Phil drank in the sight as he lubed his long-neglected cock, leisurely stroking, burning this moment in his brain for future reference, for forever.

"Alright Frank, remember to…"

"Breathe." The brunette supplied. Phil wrapped one of Frank's legs around his waist, then hooked the other over his shoulder. He lined his head up with Frank's entrance, and began pressing in the tip. Frank winced, blowing out a long breath. Phil continued to nudge until the head was swallowed up by the ring of muscle. Phil quickly lowered himself, supporting his upper body weight with arms on either side of Frank's head, and swallowed the cry that he had elicited from his lover.

Phil felt like his body was on fire. The tight, hot pressure was almost painful to resist, it would feel so, so good to go on and thrust all the way in. The room's atmosphere seemed humid as he and Frank were drenched in sweat. Frank had started running his hands over Phil's damp chest, along his shoulders again, caressing the crescent shaped bruises he knew to be there from earlier.

The darker haired boy soldiered on slowly, excruciatingly slow. Frank thought he was being split into. He gritted his teeth and locked his jaw, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's chest and held on for dear life.

Phil was finally embedded to the hilt. He stilled, waiting for any sign from Frank.

"How're you doin'?" he asked. He swept Frank's sweat-soaked fringe from his forehead, pressing light kisses to the damp skin there, on to his cheek, lips, and chin.

"I'm, eh…" Frank swallowed. "Getting, used to it, I guess." He blew out another calming breath and nodded. "Move."

His lover reached down and grabbed his cock, a mixture of sweat and lube slicking his movements. While Phil tried to concentrate on that task, he pulled out and thrust forward.

"Ooff! Ah!" Phil wasn't sure if that was him or Frank, or both. But it didn't sound like a bad thing, so he moved again, and again, hips pumping in time with his strokes. His anticipation and arousal had been going on for so long at this point, his conclusion began rush forward. Phil shifted his hips quickly, changing his angle so he could hit that bundle of nerves inside Frank.

"Shittttt! Phil! Oh my G-d! Oh G-d! Yes, damn it!" Frank cried. He hurt, hurt so bad, but that place felt so good. His world was a blur of tears. But he'd never felt so full, so satisfied. Electricity was zinging through every nerve at every touch.

"Uf! Frank…you feel so good. I told you… so fucking hot. Just… c'mon babe. Whenever you want…s'okay."

Moments later Frank arched his back, his head rocking back in the pillow as he screamed, loud and high. Fingernails nearly breaking the skin on Phil's back. He came hard, white ropes painting his abdomen and Phil's chest. That's when Phil broke, his steady rhythm stuttering as he fucked wildly, until finally a white-hot explosion, and filled Frank's hole until it cum started to drip out and trickle down his own balls. His vision went white as he pressed his forehead to Frank's chest, and closed his eyes.

…..

Frank must have passed out momentarily. He'd read that could happen, not too unusual with really strong orgasms. He became aware of being touched, by something wet, warm and soft. Frank's vision cleared enough to see Phil over him, running a washcloth over his body.

"Look who's awake." Phil smiled.

"How long was I out?" Frank was starting to feel embarrassed. Oh please, don't let this become a thing. Bad enough he couldn't hold his liquor, even worse if he's going to pass out every time he has sex.

"About fifteen minutes." Frank began to groan, but Phil interjected. "I feel asleep afterward too, woke up about five minutes ago. Didn't have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful."

"So how are you?" Phil asked, a pained and concerned look crossing his face.

The million dollar question. Frank tried to take a quick inventory. He felt incredibly relaxed, his limbs heavy yet pliant.

"So far, so good." He answered.

"No regrets?"

"Just love." Phil scoffed at Frank's idea of humor and slapped his thigh with the wet rag. Then he looked down at his handiwork, "Well, glad you're awake now, you want me to…" Phil shook the cloth and glanced further down Frank's body.

"Thanks, but I think I'll go… Owww." Frank sat up and winced.

"Told you so." Phil scooted closer. "I know it's late, but how would you like for me to draw you a warm bath? It'll help with the soreness."

"Only if you join me." Frank answered cheekily.

"You think we'll both fit?"

"I'll make room." Frank held a hand out in a silent request for assistance. Phil stood on his own wobbly legs and gingerly helped Frank stand.

…..

When they were cleaned and settled for the night, Phil turned to his side and pulled Frank to him, tucking the brunette's head under his chin.

"Ani ohev otcha*"

"English, please."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Phil."

Soon both lovers were drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

…..

Outside, another three inches of snow blanketed the ground, covering cars and post boxes. Christmas lights began to blink out as families finally turned in for the evening. The wind picked up, arctic cold coming off the distant ocean.

Carl Newby rubbed is hands together, gathered with a few of his "neighbors" around a fire someone started in a rusted out oil drum. They huddled in the alley, out of the fierce wind. Though his neighbors were all well fed from the Christmas dinner provided at the local mission, he sadly knew that come tomorrow the need for a warm, filling meal would come again. Hunger knows no season.

Tomorrow he'd be home in bed, well, after he checked in with his sergeant and wrote up his report at the station. Then sleep in all day, wake up around four and finally have Christmas with his wife and kids. Undercover work was a bitch, but the drug traffickers he was trying to get information on needed to go down. And even if it meant freezing his ass off on Christmas night, he was determined to do his part to keep his community, even his family, safe.

The wind was howling now, high pitched.

"Sounds like someone's lost out there." muttered one of the alley's residents.

"That's the wind, ain't it?" asked Carl.

"That ain't no wind," a well weathered older woman answered. She held her fingers up to her chapped lips. "Listen."

Carl closed his eyes, trying to block out everything else. That's when he finally heard it, a wail, mournful and long.

"I'm gonna check it out." Carl said as he turned from the fire.

"Ay, have you lost your mind?" called another. But Carl was already out on the sidewalk, and started trudging west, to the sound of the cry. He walked another block until the wailing stopped. Out of the corner of his eye Carl thought he saw movement in the next alley.

"Hello?" he called out. No answer, but he did see something move again. He reached under the dirty coat he was wearing and retrieved his service pistol. Carefully he walked down the brick expanse, the light over a service entrance his only illumination. A figure stepped out from the shadows. Carl straightened, lowering his weapon a bit.

"You okay buddy?" he asked as the figure stepped under the light. It was a man, very tall, with well styled, reddish hair. Despite the several inches of snow, the man walked gracefully. He was dressed like he should have been at a party, not wandering around in a snow-drifted alley, in the middle of the night, in below freezing weather. He looked like he'd been crying.

"Do… do you know what time it is?" the tall man asked.

"Well, yeah, it's about twenty minutes after…" In the split second it took Carl to look down at his watch, he was hoisted up in the air by his jacket collar, feet dangling. Carl struggled as he was pushed up against the brick wall, his gun dropped in his shock and surprise. The tall man grasped his left arm, removed Carl's fingerless gloves and pushed up his sleeve.

"What… what the hell are you…?" The undercover cop asked, he was trying to remember his training, but training never covered this. The tall man faced him, his eyes darkening from a friendly green to a dark blood red, narrowing. His expression changed instantly from sorrow to outright rage. Tall man opened his mouth in a sneer, revealing a row of straight, pearly white teeth. Except for his upper canines, which Carl hadn't really noticed the first time, probably because before they hadn't been slowly growing.

…..

Back in the other alley, the small group of homeless people huddled around the fire.

"Wonder if that young feller found what he was looking for?"

Author's Note:

*ani ohev otcha – Hebrew: I love you (conjugated for one male speaking to another male)