Title: Will You Drive My Sleigh Tonight?
Author Penname: Layne Faire
Rating: M+ for lemons of the slashy variety, language
Summary: For months, he'd watched him at the Laundromat, never figuring out how to start a conversation. The last thing he'd have expected was a pair of Santa boxer shorts would be all it'd take to break the ice.
Warnings: Slash, corny Christmas innuendo, and fluff.
Banner Link: on profile
Banner Designer Name: IllicitWriter
Thanks to my wonderful beta, nails233, and the other third of our collective brain, butterflybetty.
Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight; I just put the boys in embarrassing situations and let them figure out how to get out of it.
Will You Drive My Sleigh Tonight?
Gathering up the piles of dirty laundry, I shoved them into a couple of sea bags I'd bought at the thrift store. I could understand why the Navy issued them; they held way more shit than you'd have expected. I'd put the trip off too long, anyway. Once I'd been forced to dip into the stash of ridiculous boxer shorts my sisters bought me every holiday for a joke, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Cursing the lack of a machine in my apartment, or the building, I hauled the bags down to my beat up Toyota, shoving them into the back seat. The laundromat was only a couple miles away, but I still considered it a giant pain in the ass to have to go through the routine every time wash day rolled around.
I'd moved into my apartment a little over five months ago. For the first month, I'd dragged the clothes back home, taking advantage of Mom's good nature and the promise of a Sunday meal every week. After one too many weeks of hearing about my lack of a social life, born witness to by the ever-present appearance of sweats and t-shirts in the dirty clothes; I began doing my own laundry, going home for dinner once a month, instead. I loved my family-don't get me wrong- but, between my sisters and my mom, everyone had a gay friend I "just had to meet." It's been easier to create mystery plans.
The wipers swished across the windshield, pushing the falling snow to accumulate near the side view mirrors, before falling away in iced clumps. Through the glistening flakes, the reminders of the season shone outward from the homes and businesses I passed. Decorated trees twinkled in the windows, covered in bright ornaments and shiny tinsel. Rooftops were outlined by lights chasing in a never-ending loop; a defined landing strip for the potential arrival of The Big Man and his sleigh. Even the laundromat had its holiday finery on; snowflakes and holiday messages were stenciled on the windows like some bizarre elven graffiti.
Pulling the bags from the car, I trudged into the building and dropped them in front of a machine, before returning to grab the box of supplies I kept in the trunk. The familiar smells of detergent and fabric softener assaulted my senses, causing a tickle in my nose. Christmas music blared from the stereo system that rested on the shelf behind the counter. The attendant nodded in acknowledgment of my arrival, but continued her conversation on the cell phone tucked against her ear.
One of the biggest bonuses to come out of my weekly trips to the laundromat had been the eye candy. The third time I'd been in-and every time since then-I'd been treated to the appearance of what I could only term as 'Sex on Legs'. The first time I'd seen him, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous arrived dragging a large wicker hamper behind him. Throwing an unsorted armful of clothes into the machine, he proceeded to strip out of the sweat-stained, fitted t-shirt he had on, adding it to the load. While it washed, he'd lounged in a corner booth, tapping away on his phone. Whether Texting or playing a video game - I didn't know, and I honestly didn't give a shit. His distraction allowed me to ogle him at will from my position a couple tables away, admiring the well defined six-pack abs, my fingers itching to trace the narrow 'V' of his hips where it dipped into his low-slung basketball shorts. By the fourth trip, I figured out he came in at the same time every week and I made it a point to schedule my own washing at the same time. On a few occasions-to my everlasting joy-the strip show had been repeated.
Somewhere around the start of the third month, I noticed him staring back on occasion. Still, we didn't speak. I'd sneak surreptitious peeks over the top of my laptop, turning away when he'd meet my gaze. I knew it'd be too much to hope that he might be gay, too. Not that it mattered. I didn't have the balls to talk to him, anyway. While I lived outside the closet, I still hadn't figured out how to approach someone on a casual basis. Being picked up in a dimly lit night club was a far cry from being able to initiate a conversation over the washing machines. So I watched, and fantasized that the eye-fucks were mutual.
Then, it happened. The reason why I'd missed a week of laundry, and why I'd contemplated changing my routine. While my three loads of laundry merrily danced behind the circular doors of the machines, I'd been scrambling to add the finishing touches to a last minute project for work. Distracted and focused on the piles of documents I'd been digging through for the information I needed, I missed his arrival. It wasn't until the timer sounded, and I stood to move the loads into the dryers, that I saw him. Stopping short, I'd been mesmerized by the way the blue sweater he wore deepened the color of his eyes, causing them to shine with a sapphire sparkle. Seeing my reaction, he'd lifted an eyebrow in response, shooting me an audacious wink that reverberated straight to my crotch. My dick jumped to attention, standing straighter than the Nutcracker Soldiers guarding either side of the entryway. Flustered, I'd flipped the loads, gathered up my work, and moved out of his line of sight to a table closer to the dryers.
For the next forty minutes, I'd struggled to focus on my work, my gaze drawn repeatedly to the man stretched out prone in the corner. He'd bent one leg, his foot on the bench and the other resting on the floor. The denim of his jeans pulled taut across the unfettered outline of the well-endowed cock shrouded inside. My focus on spreadsheets gave way to images of rumpled sheets. It took all I had in me not to drool when he'd shifted position, his hips thrusting into the air, before he settled his ass back down on the seat he'd reclined on. The buzzing of the dryer timers pulled me out of my voyeurism. Not even bothering to fold the clothes, I'd crammed them back into the empty bags, making a hasty retreat after I packed up my laptop. By the time I'd reached the door, he'd stood to check his own laundry, brushing his hand across my ass when he walked to the machine. I'd needed the extra week to figure out what the fuck to do next.
Looking around the empty room, I sighed. I'd deliberately arrived later than usual, thinking he'd be there before me. No such luck. With Christmas only a couple days away, he probably had better things to do than his laundry. Tossing the loads in the washers, I settled down with a book I'd wanted to read, castigating myself for missed opportunities. When the timer chimed, I laid the book on the table, pulling over a rolling cart to shift the loads to the dryers. Sliding my card, I started the machines, the rattle of the loads starting temporarily drowning out Elvis crooning Blue Christmas. I carried the box of laundry supplies out to the car, before returning to lose myself in the intricate crime drama unfolding on the pages of my book.
In no time at all, the buzzers sounded. Checking the loads, I pulled out what was dry, combining the still damp items into one machine, before restarting it. I pulled the laden cart over to one of the tables, absently folding each article of clothing, setting them into piles of like items. By the time I reached the last few pieces, the dryer sounded again. Dumping the clothes into the cart, I continued folding, then moved the finished piles to the sea bags.
I reached into the cart to grab the last handful, when I felt a tugging on the item in my hand. Looking over to see what it had snagged on, I was met by a pair of sapphire eyes. Standing even with my own six foot height, my eyes traveled the breadth of his chest, before returning to his face when he spoke to me.
"Yours?" His eyebrow quirked, holding up the Santa suit boxers.
Snatching them from him, I refused to respond. Folding them quickly, I shoved the last pile into the waiting bag before drawing it shut and setting it next to the one on the floor. We'd been there at the same time for months, never saying anything to each other, while I struggled for the right words to approach him. Now this? Cursing my sisters and their deplorable taste in gifts, I tried not to meet his eyes, certain I'd see mocking amusement reflected in their depths.
"You didn't answer me," he pressed, moving close enough for me to feel the body heat radiating off him. The smell of peppermint and cocoa surrounded him, undercut by a subtle earthy musk I wanted to drown in. "Are they yours, or do they belong to your own Santa?"
Swallowing hard, I fought the urge to lean into his warmth, instead forcing myself to take a step back.
"They're mine; a gag gift from my sisters last Christmas," I replied, preparing to leave before the situation became any more embarrassing.
Picking up one of the bags, I slung it over my shoulder, before wrapping my fist around the other. While common sense told me to get the hell out of there, unadulterated lust reared its head, screaming that I'd never get a chance like this again. Trying to heed the head with a brain, I turned to walk away, his next words stopping me in my tracks.
"Would you wear them for me?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper, innuendo dripping from each syllable. "I'd like to be Santa's helper. I've got the right tool for any job. Whatya say…Santa?" I felt him move closer, his hand pulling on the strap I'd settled on my shoulder.
Whirling around to face him again, needing to confirm he wasn't bullshitting me, I was stunned by the unbridled passion vibrating from him. Lust won out over common sense. What the hell, right? It's the holidays; I needed to live a little, just once. Sidling up against him, I brushed my thigh against the visible bulge pressing against the fly of his tailored slacks.
"I think I've got a position you can fill. Wanna drive my sleigh tonight?" The answering smirk, followed by a knowing nod gave me all the answer I needed. It was then I noticed the absence of his laundry. "No laundry tonight?"
"I came looking for you." Pulling the bag off my shoulder, he hefted it over his own. "You weren't here last week. I ended up sitting at my friends' Christmas party tonight, struggling to focus on the conversations around me. Instead, all I could think about was the shape of your ass inside your jeans when you bend into the washer to pull out your clothes."
The deep, dulcet tenor of his voice sent flares of heat through my body, my crotch tightening when his tongue teased the corner of his mouth before gliding across the deep curve of his bottom lip. Shifting my stance to adjust the uncomfortable tension, I resisted the urge to push my palm against my throbbing erection. Noticing my discomfort, he inclined his head toward the door.
"Let me take you home; I can show you my mistletoe and you can let me find the North Pole."
Walking past me, his hand grazed across my zipper, making the innuendo, though cheesy, quite clear. My dick twitched in response, sending a shiver up my spine. I put the other bag over my shoulder and followed him out to the parking lot. He stopped next to a gorgeous, ruby red Wrangler Unlimited parked next to my car, so new I could still smell the showroom on it. Offering a low appreciative whistle, I trailed my hands across the sleek shell.
"Hey, the owner likes to be stroked even more than the car does." Looking up, I received an audacious wink. Planning to dump the laundry bags in my car, my hand paused over the handle when he spoke again. "You can toss them in here and ride with me, if you want. I plan on keeping you busy all night, anyway; in and out of your sexy Santa suit."
My hesitation lasted less than a second, before I swung open the door he'd unlocked for me. I stowed my bag next to its companion that he'd tossed in the back seat. I hauled myself up into the Jeep to leave with a perfect stranger, which in itself was a testament to how much I wanted him, and how tired I was of having only my hand for company. The engine purred to life, his large hands moving the gearshift effortlessly through its paces, resting on the knob in between changes. Watching the wide palm wrap effortlessly around the sleek metal had a different knob twitching in anticipation. Stifling a groan, I shifted my legs in an attempt to adjust the not so little problem that arose when I first saw him holding my boxers.
The roads were covered in ice and slush, the plows unable to stay ahead of the snow that had been falling steadily all day long. Few people had been foolish enough to brave the elements, leaving the streets devoid of traffic. A little ice and snow wouldn't deter him from reaching his destination, though. Turning on the fog lights to offer him a beacon against the storm, he tackled the roads, the Jeep sliding through intersections and jumping over the ruts created by the uneven removal swaths of the plows. The wood I'd been sporting at the laundromat disappeared, while my nuts attempted to crawl up my ass in fear. Wrapping a hand around the handle above the door, I clenched the edge of the seat with the other. Don't get me wrong, the shit was fun, but more in the, 'Oh shit I'm gonna die' range of fun. Skidding sideways into an almost empty parking lot, he whipped the steering wheel, sending the Jeep into a couple of donuts on the ice, before sliding neatly into an empty space. Patting the dashboard, he spoke to his car.
"Way to go, Rudolph!"
Seriously? Did he just call the truck Rudolph? What the hell had I gotten myself into? Momma always warned me about picking up strangers. The one time I don't listen to her. . .
Resting his folded arms across the steering wheel, he looked over at me, noticing my clenched fists. "Second thoughts?"
"Wha. . . huh?" Dazed by his take on Monster Truck Madness, it took me a minute to focus on his question, too consumed with my own. "Oh, uhm, no. Just wasn't sure we'd make it here alive." I opened the door, a blast of cold air knifing through my leather jacket. We both opened the doors to the back at the same time to grab the bags inside. He smiled broadly at me across the backseat; his vibrant blue eyes alight with mischief.
"No need to worry about that; I'd never put Santa in jeopardy. I've been waiting far too long to sit on his lap and discuss whatever pops up. Besides, I want to show him just what a good boy I can be."
Another wink. Yeah, Momma said what?
Well, the cold certainly wasn't affecting one part of my anatomy. With our heads tilted down against the frigid wind and blowing snow, we slipped and slid our way across the parking lot, both laughing at the other when we'd have to flail to keep our balance. Neither of us were small guys, both well over six feet, so we knew we must look ridiculous. When he once again missed his footing, falling into one of the holly bushes that lined the curb, I couldn't help myself. Skidding to a stop, I dropped the bag in my hand to hold my sides, while large guffaws escaped me. The stinging wind and snow brought tears to my eyes, the moisture freezing on my cheeks, but still I laughed. It wasn't until a large snowball nailed me dead center in my chest that I stopped, stunned.
"What the fuck?"
I scrambled for a hill of snow that had been mounded up by the plows on one of their few passes through the lot. Scooping up a handful of snow - and ignoring the stinging cold on my gloveless fingers - I whirled on one foot, letting the snowball fly as I fell ass first into the pile. Spluttering, I heaved myself up, his answering roar of laughter followed by a muffled "Hey!" confirming I'd hit my target. The war was on. Snowballs flew back and forth across the lot with deadly accuracy, until soaking wet and frozen, we both called truce. Dripping slush and ice, we walked through the lobby to the bank of elevators. The steel doors slid shut at the touch of a button before I found myself pressed against the wall. Muscular thighs trapped mine, his erection just as eager as my own.
"Is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I smirked against his mouth, my lips parting with a moan when he ground against me.
"More like an all night sucker," he retorted, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip before entering my waiting mouth.
Warm mint and whiskey filled my senses again, his taste making me hungry for more of him. With my head swimming from the raging hormones careening through my body, I didn't hear the elevator chime or the door open. Instead, a woman's shocked gasp had my new friend looking over his shoulder.
"Good evening, Mrs. Cope," he greeted her, snatching up one of my bags, then grabbing my hand to drag me out of the elevator. "I hope you and Mr. Cope have a Merry Christmas."
Her cheery, "You too, dear" drifted behind us, bringing on another round of laughter.
We tumbled through his door as soon as he opened it; the bags dropped out of the way, jackets were being tugged and stripped off in a flurry of hands, and mouths seeking each other. My frozen fingers fumbled with the hem of his sweater and I heaved a sigh of relief when he pulled it over his head. Groaning at the sight of his damp under shirt molded to the solid wall of his chest, my fingers trailed down the soft cotton, chucking at his intake of breath when I grazed across a stomach so taut pennies would bounce off it.
"Why, Santa, I do believe you are improperly packaged," he offered with a grin, deep dimples flashing in his cheeks, while his deft fingers flipped open the button on my jeans. "Let's see if we can wrap you up in something a bit more appropriate."
Dragging my faded, navy blue sweatshirt over my head, I tossed it to the side. Despite the warmth in the room, I sucked in a surfeit of air at the feel of his chilled fingers against the warm skin of my stomach. Catching his face between my hands, I captured his mouth again. Tongues seeking, sliding, and tasting, I allowed him to walk me backward down the hall, not caring where we were headed, so long as we both ended up naked. I felt relief when he pulled down the tab of my zipper, then nipped his lip when his fingers eased inside to wrap around my hard shaft. My backward motion was brought up short by my back pressed against a door.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, shoving my jeans down my legs, then grasping me with his quickly warming hand. He gave two quick strokes, his tongue snaking out to catch the beads of moisture gathering on my reddened tip. Running his tongue around the glans, he dipped it into the slit, while his hands continued their exploration of the rest of my body. Twisting my fingers in his dark hair, I fought the urge to thrust into the warmth that enveloped my aching flesh.
"Ungh . . . so fucking good . . . yeah, just like that." Words tumbled from my mouth, incoherent and coupled with moans and curses, my voice growing louder when his cheeks hollowed around me and his mouth sunk to my base.
Feeling his throat swallow around my head almost did me in. Tightening my grip in his hair, I eased him back, another coil of lust slamming me in the gut when he looked up at me, his blue eyes on fire. Releasing me with a pop, he continued to stroke me, his palm twisting across my head, saliva and cum slicking his grip. His other hand tangled through the trimmed path of curls on my abdomen, before he brushed his thumb across my right nipple. It jumped to attention as readily as my dick had. His hands were everywhere at once, his mouth once again working down my length, while his fingers dug into my ass and pulled my hips forward, encouraging me to fuck his mouth. I thrust into him, my hips moving of their own volition, all control surrendered to the unparalleled need. My head slammed back into the door, my legs quivering to hold me upright, while my sac drew up tight to my body. It'd been too long, I'd never last.
"Fuck, I-I'm gonna come," I warned.
He obviously didn't care. Taking me all the way in again, he swallowed hard, and I lost the thin grip I had on my control. Bucking forward, I coated his throat with long, pulsing spurts, my knees shaking with each pull of his cheeks around my throbbing cock. I pulled on his hair, stilling the movements of his head. He swirled his tongue around me instead, sliding it up and down the underside of my shaft and drawing every drop out of me. When my vision cleared, I loosened my grip on his hair, allowing him to pull off my softening cock. In one fluid motion, almost inconceivable in a man his size, he was back on his feet, his mouth teasing a path back to mine. Moaning at the taste of my own release on his tongue, I welcomed his kiss, my breathing still ragged. His hands ran up my torso, leaving goose pimples in their wake.
"You're half frozen," he murmured against my lips.
Despite my protests to the contrary, a violent shiver shook me, followed by a sneeze. "Sorry. Maybe I'm a bit cold, but you're doing a good job of keeping me warm. Besides," I traced a circle around the hardened nipple that pushed against his t-shirt, "you still haven't shown me where the mistletoe is."
Before he could reply, his stomach rumbled, followed by an answering one from my own. We both looked at each other, embarrassment in both our eyes, followed by joint laughter filling the narrow hallway. He rubbed his still semi-erect cock against my leg then stepped back with a sigh.
"This can wait, we have all night. The roads are almost impassable, anyway. How about you take a shower and warm up, while I get us something to eat. It's only fair, I started the snowball fight." When I opened my mouth to ask him to join me, he placed a finger over my lips. "Hold that thought. I know what you're going to say, and to be honest, we'll never eat if I do. With what I have planned, you're going to need all the energy you can get."
My cheeks flushed under their natural tan. "I need to grab some clothes out of my bag."
"There's only one thing you need out of your sack, Santa." Pulling me against him, he reached down to open the door I'd been leaning on. Tracing the shell of my ear with his tongue, he whispered, "I'll get them for you." Turning me around, he gave me a light push into the bathroom, "Go. I'll put what you need on the counter."
Stepping out of the shower fifteen minutes later, I found he'd been true to his word. Piled on the counter were clean towels, a wrapped toothbrush, and topping the pile, the damned boxer shorts. Well, they're what got you here, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I dried off quickly, then wrapped a towel around my waist while I brushed my teeth. Raking my fingers through my short, shaggy, hair, I returned it to some semblance of order, before dropping the towel to step into the boxer shorts. He'd added an undershirt to the pile, which I gratefully pulled over my head. Maybe I could sneak into a pair of sweats when I got out to the living room. Pulling my wallet out of my jeans, I laid the wet clothes over the shower rod to dry before going to find my host.
It wasn't hard to do. The smell of butter and garlic drifted down the hall, so I followed it out to the kitchen. He stood with his back to me, his dress slacks gone, replaced by a pair of low slung sweat pants and a dry T-shirt that stretched across the well-defined muscles of his back Stopping in the arched opening, I admired the rippling movement under the white cotton, the muscles bunching and releasing with each movement of his arms. Sensing my presence, he gestured toward the refrigerator.
"There's beer, if you want, or some soda. Help yourself."
I pulled open the door and removed a beer then asked if he wanted one. He declined, pointing the knife in his hand to the bottle sitting on the counter in front of him. Closing the door, I braced myself against it, enjoying the view while he continued cooking. He stirred a sauté pan, while a pot bubbled merrily on the back of the stove.
"It smells delicious, whatever it is."
"Just something quick. Can you eat shellfish? I probably should have asked before I started cooking."
Assuring him it was fine, I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He shook his head then pulled a package of shrimp out of the freezer. Dumping it in with the butter and garlic, he gave it all a quick stir, before turning to face me. He lifted his beer to his lips, his eyes bright over the top of the bottle when he saw the boxer shorts. Taking a swallow, he eyed me up and down. Warming under his perusal, I cleared my throat, willing my dick to keep its head down. It answered with a twitch-traitorous bastard.
"I must say, they look even better than I could have imagined." His dimples appeared again with his smile. "They fit perfectly in all the right places." He took a step closer, his fingers inching toward the white trim. "I wonder. . ."
His train of thought was interrupted by a snapping sizzle from the stove. Returning his attention to the pots, he flipped off the control knobs, sliding the pots to the cool burners. He stirred the shrimp again, then picked up the saucepan to drain the linguini he'd prepared. Setting the steaming colander on top of the saucepan, he pulled plates and silverware out and dished out a plate for each of us. After setting them to the side, he grabbed a towel and opened the oven, juggling a hot loaf of bread onto a cutting board. He shook his hand, cursing his burnt fingers. Without a word, I took his hand and raised it to my mouth, tracing my tongue across each reddened welt. Sapphire turned to midnight, his eyes darkening, while a low growl escaped his chest. I smirked, feeling his pulse race under my thumb. Two could play his game. I turned on the sink, bringing his hand under the cold stream.
"I think I preferred your first treatment," he whispered, his breath leaving him in husky rasps.
"So I can tell," I replied, seeing the evidence stirring in the sweats that left nothing to the imagination. "We should probably eat, before everything gets cold."
Settling at the table, we shared personal histories while we ate. I admired his apartment, commenting on the Christmas decorations. I had a small tree and a line of cards over the door, but had managed to resist my mom's efforts to add more. Not only did he have a large tree in the corner of the room, themed in red and gold, other coordinating touches had been added in every room. He told me his mom had been out to visit for Thanksgiving and had done it all then, and that left to his own devices, the tree probably wouldn't have even been there.
Our plates sat empty next to us while we continued to talk, the snowfall becoming heavier outside while the city slipped into slumber under its blanketing cover. It wasn't until I heard the faint ring of my phone that I realized the time. Excusing myself, I followed the sound to the hallway, where he'd hung my jacket on a coat rack by the front door. I dug it out of my pocket, recognizing the ringtone I'd assigned my mother. Flipping it open in time to prevent the call from going to voicemail, I wandered back toward the kitchen.
"Hey, Mom. You guys doing okay out at the house?"
"I was just calling to ask you the same. You're getting it worse than we are. I hope you have everything you need. You don't need to be driving in this mess."
"I'm fine." I watched him clear the table, my mouth watering at the sight of another pair of dimples at the top of his ass, just visible where the sweats had slipped a bit lower. "I can handle it if I need to go out," he turned to look at me, tilting his head to the side, "but, I have a feeling I'll be staying put right where I am."
I was treated to a flash of dimples again, when his lips lifted in a smile. Setting the plates in the sink, he walked over to where I stood, leaning close to whisper in my other ear, "You can count on it." Distracted by his hand sliding under my shirt, I uh-huhed and hmmmed my way through her next couple sentences.
"Okay, dear. It sounds like you're busy. I'll give you a call in the morning to check on you."
He snorted in my shoulder, whispering low enough he wouldn't be overheard, "She has no idea how busy you'll be."
I tried not to laugh out loud. She'd only want to know what was so funny, and I wasn't ready to tell my mom I'd been picked up at the laundromat. There were some things I'd prefer to keep to myself, at least for a little while. Instead, I placed a finger over his lips, stifling a moan when he pulled it into his mouth.
"Uhm, no, Mom, that's fine. I'm probably going to sleep in tomorrow. I'll call you when I get up. Love you. Bye." I clicked the phone shut, not giving her a chance to answer.
The phone clattered to the floor, my hands grabbing his waist when he released my finger, turning his attention to my mouth. His thumbs teased across my nipples, bringing them to attention under his touch. Moving my fingers, I trailed them across the small divots I'd glimpsed minutes before, while pulling his hips against mine. The velvety fabric of my boxers only heightened the sensation of him rubbing against me. Our dicks sprang to life, wanting to get in on the festivities. Our tongues slid over, under, and around each other, tasting and teasing in a relentless game of hide and go seek. Pulling away to catch his breath, he pulled his hands from under my shirt and reached to grasp mine.
"C'mon." He tugged my hand, drawing me behind him into the living room. The twinkling tree lights were the only illumination other than the moon struggling to peek through the heavy clouds. Dropping to his knees near the tree, he pulled me down next to him then straddled my lap once I'd settled myself on the floor.
"So, Santa," he began, pausing to kiss me again, "ready to see what a good boy I am?" He emphasized his words with a roll of his hips, pressing our straining cocks together.
"Good boy? Oh no, I think you've been a very naughty boy. You're going to have to convince Santa you deserve to be on the nice list."
"Is that so?" He tugged my t-shirt over my head, following it with his own. "I wonder what I can do to persuade you of my good intentions."
Nipping along my jaw line, he reached my throat, his lips gliding across my Adam's apple, before reaching the crook of my neck. Letting my head fall back, I traversed the planes of his back, enjoying the play of muscle under my hands with his every movement. When his mouth centered on my nipple, I arched into it, digging my fingers into his skin. My hips thrust against his seeking more friction while I tried to focus on the fingers easing under the elastic waist of my boxers.
"I'd say you're off to a good start. Just…unh… I…"
My train of thought derailed when his mouth followed the trail of hair leading south. Pushing my hands into the back of his sweats, I shoved them down his thighs when he lifted his body away from mine. Stripping them off, I knelt in front of him, returning my attention to the tapered angles of his stomach, my fingers tracing the narrow 'V' of his hips until I reached the thatch of trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. Wrapping one hand around his long, uncut cock, I stroked his length, mesmerized by the reddened tip emerging from the cowl surrounding it. Pushing him to his back on the floor, I settled myself next to his hips.
Leaning over him, I ran my tongue across the glistening knob, gathering the beads of moisture that accumulated with each upward stroke. Working my tongue underneath the cowl, I stroked the tip, tracing the frenulum, before lifting the shaft to dedicate my attention to the underside. Reaching the base, my hand continued to stroke him while I leaned further across him to push my mouth over the head.
He grabbed the back of my hair with one hand, the other reaching over to push the elastic of my shorts under my balls. His fingers teased the sensitive skin, before wrapping around me to apply long, slow strokes to my dick. Humming around him in appreciation, I bobbed my head, allowing him to slide deeper into my mouth on each stroke. When he nudged the back of my tongue, I relaxed my throat, swallowing around him. The weight of my arm across his hips kept him from thrusting up, but he shifted underneath me, a litany of curses falling from his lips, interspersed with my name, Jesus, and God. I didn't care who he called on, so long as he kept touching me. Every so often, he twisted his wrist to swipe across the head, the moisture slicking his hand and keeping the strokes smooth. Rocking my hips into his fist, I hollowed my cheeks around his cock, drawing deep with each stroke of my mouth. My tongue massaged the underside of his shaft, swirling around the head, and back down again. Meanwhile, my free hand stroked his balls, feeling the tell-tale tightening that signaled his impending orgasm.
"Fuck! Your mouth…ungh…I…that's it, babe. So fucking hot, so good." He bent his knees, forcing me to lean up and over him in order to keep his hips still and stay in control. "Uh…so close. Look at me, babe," he pleaded with me, all thoughts of my dick gone while he braced himself on his elbows to watch my mouth at work. "Gonna …yeah … like that. Gonna come…wanna watch you swallow me," he spoke in broken sentences, each pause punctuated by heaving breaths and his ass lifting up off the carpet. Suddenly, his thighs tensed up, his hand pulling my hair, and his dick pulsing to release warm streams of cum into my welcoming throat.
"Fuck!" the word left him in a drawn out shout, his body jerking with each burst that filled my mouth before collapsing to the floor. I continued to swallow; my lips and tongue milked him until he began to soften.
Releasing him with a soft pop, I knelt back, one hand still languidly stroking him, while I smugly watched him struggle to regain his composure. Once he had control of himself he reached for me, pulling me down to capture my mouth again. Returning his hand to my cock, he began stroking again, bringing it back to full arousal. The confident, sure strokes had me writhing against him in no time. Rolling me onto my back, he moved between my legs, lifting them over his shoulders to bring me closer to heaven. Wrapping his lips around my sac, he drew first one, then the other nut into his mouth, sucking them until they pulled tight to my body. The whole time, he continued to stroke my aching dick, moisture running down to coat his fingers. Moving his hand to the base, his mouth enveloped me again, his teeth grazing my skin in delicious torment, while his other hand supported my ass, ensuring I was completely at his mercy. Unable to reach his hair, I fisted my hands in my own; mewling whimpers were the only sound I could produce. His hand and mouth stroked me in unison, bringing me to the edge, then backing off, before building the tension even higher. I couldn't think, couldn't speak, I could only stand at the precipice, incoherently begging him to push me over the edge.
Then he did.
The tightening coil inside me shattered. Spots of light appeared behind my lids when my eyes rolled back in my head, the blood rushing through my body with the force of the bullet unleashed from its chamber. He greedily devoured the fountain that filled his mouth, licking and sucking his way back to the tip, ensuring he left nothing behind. Releasing my hips, he allowed my legs to slide to the floor, before pulling himself up to lie next to me. Our mouths met over and over, the slow tenderness allowing our heart rates to return to normal.
Pushing a strand of hair off my forehead, he asked, "So, am I off the naughty list?"
Laughing, my eyes drifting closed in exhaustion, I replied, "Oh no, you're right at the top of it. However, I think Santa's re-evaluating his criteria; the naughty list may be the way to go."
He chuckled, his head sinking onto my shoulder. I must have dozed off. I woke to him gently shaking me, asking if I wanted to move to the bed. We both staggered to our feet and I followed him down the hall. Naked, we both crawled under the sheets, with him sliding up behind me, pulling my body back to him while he molded his around me. Sleep over took us both.
Waking the next morning, I blinked against the blinding sunlight reflected off the cover of white that shrouded the city, snow still falling in thick puffs. Memories of the night before returned, and I slid deeper under the covers, seeking out the warmth that had cradled me all night, but the bed was empty. The low hum of the radio filtered down the hall accompanied by the smell of coffee and frying bacon. Sitting up, I saw my bags sitting near the door. Digging through them, I found fresh underwear, clean socks, lounge pants, and a t-shirt. I pulled on the clothes, then rifled through for a hoodie I knew rested near the bottom of one bag. Stopping in the bathroom, I took a piss, washed my hands, and brushed my teeth before joining him in the kitchen. An electric griddle sat on the counter next to the stove covered in perfect circles of batter waiting to be flipped. He smiled when I entered the room.
"Good morning! Sleep well?" He motioned to the coffee pot. "Coffee's ready, breakfast will be in about five minutes."
With a grateful smile, I filled the empty cup on the counter, my hands wrapping around the cup to absorb its warmth. Taking a drink of the liquid gold, I let it refresh me, clearing out the remaining cobwebs that fogged my mind.
"It's still snowing." Way to go Captain Obvious.
"Yeah, the whole city is shut down except for emergency personnel. The weatherman said the snow will probably continue all day, maybe tapering off late tonight." He lifted the bacon to a plate covered in paper towels to drain, then flipped the pancakes to finish cooking. "My flight's been cancelled, and the airlines said that there's no hope of catching another one until after Christmas. I already called my mom to let her know I won't be home."
"That sucks that you can't go home for Christmas." Pulling the clean dishes from the drain rack where they rested, I dried them off, then set them on the table. "What are you going to do?"
"Oh, I have friends in town that I can mooch off of." He pulled a plate from the oven, adding the pancakes to the pile he'd already finished, before turning off the griddle. "Ready to eat?"
"Yeah, looks delicious." I joined him at the table, accepting the platter and dropping several pancakes on my plate. "Look, I don't want to seem like I'm pushing things, but would you like to join my family for Christmas?"
"Really?" At my silent nod, he agreed, before asking, "But wait, how are you going to get home? I can probably get you to your car tomorrow morning, but I doubt you'll make it out of the city safely."
"Well, I'm sure they'll get the roads cleared once the snow stops. Besides, if you're coming with me, we could always take the Jeep, it should have no problems, no matter how bad the road conditions are."
He swallowed his mouthful of food before answering, "Yeah, that works. But, first, you need to call your mom and make sure it's okay. I don't want to impose."
"Are you kidding?" I laughed. "My mother will be ecstatic that I'm bringing someone home. But, if it will make you feel better, I'll call her after I clean up from breakfast."
The rest of the meal was spent in pleasant conversation, while we got to know a little more about each other. We shared similar interests in movies, were both addicted to video games, and both liked to tinker with cars. Once we finished eating, I insisted on washing dishes.
"It's only fair," I argued. "You've fed me twice, and you're going to be stuck with me all day. The least I can do is dishes."
"I'd hardly call it stuck; I enjoy your company. It's just a shame I didn't approach you before yesterday. We could have done this a lot sooner."
I ducked my head to hide the flush on my cheeks. He wasn't the only one wishing it had happened sooner. The past didn't matter, though. We were both here now.
After I finished the dishes, I pulled out my phone to call my mom. He made himself scarce, leaving me to talk to her in private. As expected, she squealed when I asked if I could bring someone home with me for dinner, demanding to know all the details. I tried to slow her roll by saying he was a friend who'd been trapped because of the storm, but in typical Mom fashion, she read right through it. She settled for basic details, then told me she couldn't wait to see us the next day and meet him. Rolling my eyes, I hung up the phone knowing that she'd speed dialed and conference called my sisters the minute our call ended. Hell, she'd probably already picked out china. Sinking into the sofa, I yawned, smiling when he joined me.
"It's all set. She expects us at the house at noon. I'll warn you ahead of time, she can be a bit-intense."
"Aren't they all?" He grinned. "Well, we have the entire day ahead of us and no place to go. Whatever shall we do?"
A pregnant silence filled the room, loaded with promise. We looked at each other, our eyebrows quirking at the same time.
"Well, there's only two of us, so Naked Twister is out. Maybe we should discuss the naughty list further," I offered.
Faster than I could blink, I found myself flat on the sofa, our hands and mouths everywhere at once. The rest of the day passed in kisses and touches, in sighs and moans, in "please, yes" and "right there, again." By the time we surfaced to eat later on that evening, we'd explored every inch of each other, on every possible surface, some of it with comedic results. Let's not discuss the broken coffee table. We fell into bed late, our bodies sated in more ways than one.
The next day dawned clear and we woke early to make the two hour drive home. Stopping at the laundromat, we picked up my car to take it back to my apartment, where we loaded my family's gifts into the Jeep. Despite my assurances that it wasn't necessary, he'd managed to put together small gifts for my family from him, too. The roads were still rough in places, making me grateful we had the Jeep to make the trip. I'd have never made it home, otherwise. Turning into the narrow driveway I directed him to, he reached for my hand, squeezing it for reassurance.
"Just a bit. You have to admit, it's a little unorthodox to meet your family already, even though I feel like I've known you for months." He parked behind Mom's Durango, turning to face me. "If it's okay with you, though, I plan on being around, so what the hell, right? Might as well not forestall the inevitable." The dimples returned with his smile, followed by another one of his winks.
Yeah, I didn't have a problem with him sticking around. Loaded with packages, he followed me to the door. Letting myself into the house, I could hear them all in the kitchen. Calling out a greeting, I led him into the living room to deposit the gifts around the tree. When we finished, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze, then turned to the doorway to face the onslaught.
My mom hurried into the room, rushing across to where we stood. Throwing her arms around my neck, she kissed my cheek. "Jake! It's about time you got here. We were getting worried." Stepping back, she extended her hand to the man standing next to me. "And you must be Emmett. I'm Sarah Black. We're so glad you could join us for Christmas."
As one of the organizers of the Toys4Tots Christmas Wishes compilation, I can't express my thanks enough to the 30+ authors who donated their time and talents to this worth cause. We raised $750 in donations to help the Toys4Tots organization continue their efforts to ensure every child experiences the joy of receiving a gift from Santa on Christmas. We will be running the campaign again this year and have already received confirmations from many authors who will be joining us again. I hope you will consider it for your donations this coming winter. I will make sure the information is available on my profile for anyone who is interested.