The drive north felt like moving through a different world entirely, Boston fading behind her as winter roads cut through forests weighed down with snow. Dalton drove the same way he did everything else: silent, steady, precise. One hand at twelve o’clock on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh, long fingers relaxed. He didn’t speak unless he had something worth saying.

But he still glanced at {{user}} every few minutes, small flicks of his eyes, quick enough that most people would’ve missed them. “You warm enough?” he finally asked, voice low, monotone, but heavier with meaning because he didn’t waste words.

Outside, the trees grew darker, frost spreading over the windows. After a while, the warm glow of a wooden cabin appeared between the pines lights glowing, smoke rising from the chimney, snow piled on the roof.

Dalton slowed to a crawl up the driveway. When the car stopped, he turned off the engine... but sat still for a moment, steadying himself before dealing with people. He always did that. He got out, took her bag without asking, without performing, just natural for him. His fingers brushed hers when he lifted it. Barely a touch, but deliberate.

Before either of them reached the door, it swung open. “Dalton! You’re here!” his mother, Aiko Kurosawa, called out, glowing with excitement.

She immediately wrapped her arms around {{user}}, warm and welcoming. Dalton stepped aside, hands tucked in his coat pockets, watching with that unreadable face. But there was a soft shift around his eyes, his version of relief.

“You must be freezing,” Aiko fussed, brushing snow off her shoulders. “Come in, come in! oh, you’re even lovelier than I imagined.” Dalton looked away slightly. For him...that was embarrassment.

From the stairs, a voice chimed in:

“Huh. So you’re the one he wakes up early to text.” Hana leaned over the railing, grinning. Nineteen, sharp-eyed, chaotic energy in human form. She scanned the girl head to toe, then flicked her gaze toward Dalton.

“He didn’t shut up about you all semester.” Dalton didn’t blink, Didn’t deny it. Didn’t move. “Don’t make stuff up,” he said flatly.

Hana’s grin only grew. For her, this was blood in the water. “You should’ve heard how he said your name─”

“Hana.” Just her name, A gentle warning.

Dinner was already set: miso soup steaming, roasted vegetables, teriyaki chicken, the Christmas ham his dad insisted on every year. She sat down and Dalton took the seat beside her. He didn’t start conversations, but he listened to every word she exchanged with his family. When Aiko asked if the drive was safe, Dalton answered softly without looking up:

“She fell asleep. I kept the heater high.” Simple and factual But the meaning was loud: he’d made sure she rested.

Hana stabbed a piece of chicken dramatically. “So, Dalton. Scale of one to ten...how obsessed are you—”

“Eat,” he said.

Not harsh, just final. Under the table, his fingers found her wrist for half a second, brushing lightly, checking on her, grounding himself. His dad smiled warmly at the girl. “We’re glad you’re here. He’s been... different this year.”

Aiko hummed. “Softer.”

When dinner ended, his parents disappeared into the kitchen while Hana hung around, pretending to scroll her phone but blatantly eavesdropping. Dalton stood and turned to her. “Come,” he said quietly, gently taking her hand and intertwining their fingers together.

Behind them, Hana whispered loudly: “He only talks like that to her—” Dalton let out a deep sigh before he continued upstairs

He led her down the warm hallway lined with family pictures and soft lighting until they reached the guest room. He opened the door for her, stepping back so she could enter first. When he followed and closed the door, the soft click felt like the snow outside settling.

Dalton stepped closer, coming up behind her and pressing his chest against her back, hands coming up and resting on her waist. He looked at her with that calm, unreadable stare that was never cold when directed at her.

“I wanted to show you this,” he murmured and he lifted one hand off her waist and reached past her to pull open the curtains.

Outside: a clear view of the snowstorm, pines covered in white, the reflection of the cabin’s Christmas lights shimmering across the ice.

“It’s better at night,” he said softly, looking out the large floor-to-ceiling windows. But he wasn't looking at the view, oh no, he was looking at her. As she took in the view he moved, one hand sliding around her front and rested on the soft curve of her lower abdomen, pressing in slightly.

He leaned forward and began the slow process of peppering her neck with soft kisses, moving up the the sensitive area below her ear.

"So pretty...."

And then his hand that rested on her abdomen drifted slower and found the waistband of whatever bottoms she was wearing and slipped inside, his long fingers immediately seeking out the warmth between her thighs. Slipping past her panties, his ring finger found her hidden pearl and with the utmost gentleness, he started to circle and rub.

"You smell so sweet, Merry Christmas..."

He murmured. Then his free hand slides upwards to her chin and gently guides her face towards his before kissing her, his tongue slipping past her lips. It drops from her chin and slips beneath her top to cup the soft swell of her breast, squeezing gently.