Oscar laughed and nodded, placing the box on the counter and snaking the gold chain between his fingers, flipping open the cover and looking at the face with the numbers and delicate hands.
“I ain’t never had anything engraved with my name on’t. ’Tis truly special,” he said, working his lower lip with his teeth.
“I’m glad you think so. I wanted it to be special—as special as you are to me.”
He nodded and laughed again, handling the small pocketwatch with reverence. “Golly, how am I ever gonna top this? Now I gotta get you something spectacular for next year.”
I scoffed. “I got everything I need right here,” I said. “I already got a pocketwatch—and I got you. I reckon I don’t need anything else to be truly happy.”
Oscar glanced up again, and this time his smile was coy and saucy, as it often was. “Well, I reckon I can give you lots of particular attention then, in return.”
I blushed. “That’s not required. ‘Tis a gift.”
“Oh, I know it ain’t required. But you gotta let me thank you in some way. And, you know, that’s the way I like best. And, so do you,” he said, giving me an intense look to let me know he meant it. Then he sighed. “But first, I want some flapjacks.” He lifted the watch and showed me the time. “’Tis almost noon, after all.”
I grinned. “Will you help make the batter?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Oscar put the pocketwatch on the bedside table, nestled back in its box, and we set about making flapjacks. I had a recipe in my little booklet, and t’wasn’t complicated. We had eggs and a bit of milk that I kept in the cold storage cellar. Oscar mixed the flour and salt together while I beat the eggs in a bowl. Then we mixed them. By then, the iron skillet was hot, so I helped Oscar pour three little bits of batter that spread out and started bubbling at the edges.
“That smells so good!” Oscar said with excitement. Then his face fell. “Wait. Do we have syrup?”
I frowned. “No, they didn’t have any at the store, and I forgot to ask Irene if she had some. But we’ve got brown sugar and butter. And I even have a lemon if we want to squeeze some on it.”
“Oh, that sounds all right.”
T’was more than all right. The room filled with the smells of fried batter, then sugar and butter and lemon. We ate slowly at our little wooden table on our tin plates, with tin cups of water for drinking.
“Oscar, you’re makin’ a mess of yourself,” I said, pointing at a smear of butter and sugar on his cheek.
He gazed at me calmly for several seconds, then scooped some butter off his plate with a finger and sucked it into his mouth. It slid out with a pop, and my dick sprang to attention.
“Oscar,” I breathed.
“Yes, Jimmy?”
“You aimin’ for a Christmas Day spankin’ and fuckin’?”
Oscar’s lips parted and he grabbed the edges of the table, his chest going up and down. “I am now. I was thinkin’ that nothin’ could beat getting such a special gift and having homemade flapjacks for breakfast, but I reckon that could.”
The noise of our breaths sounded in the relative silence while we gazed flames at each other. Then Oscar jumped up from his seat and ran to the bed, with me close on his heels. T’wasn’t far, of course, and we landed in a heap as I fumbled to grab his wrists and wrestle him still beneath me.
“Now, now. You need to behave, Oscar Yates.”
He giggled. “Oh, I will. But I wanted you to chase me. Too bad you ain’t got your lasso.”
He was referring to something we’d done on the last night of our journey before we’d reached Port Essington when we’d felt playful and bold, and I’d thrown my lasso o’er Oscar and pulled him off his feet. I’d then bound him all up with rope until he couldn’t move or do anything else but submit to be cherished…and fucked as slow as molasses. I shivered, remembering it.
“Too bad. ’Tis in the stables, though.”
Oscar frowned. “If t’were summer, I’d tell you to go get it. But I reckon I don’t wanna wait while you get your coat and boots and all that.”
“Anyway, I don’t wanna lasso you right now. I do wanna smack your ass until you spend o’er my knee, though.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you wanted to spank meandfuck me.”
“Well, I changed my mind. I thought it might be nice to remember that first morning in the hotel in Dawson.”
