Sean Michael's Blog, page 73

Marcus and Jim

Jim handed over the story he'd written. It was sexual, sensual. A fantasy story about a man and the sheik who'd captured him. Adored him. Made him a pleasure slave.

It was silly and goofy and fun and, surprisingly, hot as hell.

He hoped Marcus liked it.

He hoped Marcus liked it and paid attention to the scene on page eight.

That one had made his balls ache.

A lot.

Brock and Eric

Brock put all his presents for Josie and Eric out under the tree. Okay, the majority of them were for Josie, there were a couple of very special ones for Eric, though. Then he filled Josie's stocking to overflowing, putting a bunch of stuff on the ground beneath it once it wouldn't take another thing. He stepped back. Had he gone overboard? Was it a bit much?

Warm hands wrapped around his waist. "Brock... good lord. It's like magic!"

"You think she'll like it?"

"She'll love it. She loves you."

It warmed his heart, to hear that. "She'll think it's from Santa, though, right?"

"It is." Eric sounded totally convinced.

God, the man made him feel a hundred feet tall. He had all he needed for Christmas right here, and in the little pink bedroom.

"Come to bed, Santa. I have milk and cookies for you."

"Score!" He stopped a moment and looked at Eric. That is a euphamism, right?"

"Come and see..." That fine butt wiggled for him, all the way down the hall.

"Ho ho ho and a very merry Christmas to me." He couldn't help but think that he must have been a very good boy this year.

Brock and Eric are from Unlikely Hero.

Merry Christmas!

Bean woke up at o-dark-thirty on Christmas morning.

He maybe should have warned Clay that he'd never broken the habit of getting up long before dawn to go open gifts and drink hot chocolate and eat cookies. Cookies for breakfast, who could blame him for wanting to get started on that?

He rolled over and poked Clay in the shoulder. Clay grunted, nose wrinkling. Bean laughed and kissed that cute nose and then snuggled in closer and kissed Clay on the lips.

"Still dark." Clay pulled the covers over them.

He pressed closer still, wrapping his arms around Clay's waist. "It's Christmas!"

"Mmmhmm." Clay pushed him down into the mattress. "Will be Christmas when the sun comes up."

"But there's presents under the tree! And cookies for breakfast." He wriggled, moaning a little as they rubbed all together.

"What if Santa didn't come?" Clay chuckled, bit his bottom lip.

He gasped, only partly because of the bite. "Don't even joke!" He knew he was a bit of a kid about Christmas, but that was the point, wasn't it?

Clay smiled at him. "Like I would disappointment my man at Christmas."

He beamed up at Clay. "You couldn't. Even if there's not a single gift under that tree, I've got the best gift ever."

Merry Christmas Eve

Rig stretched slowly, yawned, and grabbed a blanket to curl up with. He'd gotten up at five to let the dogs out, but the couch was calling to him. The tree was glowing, the lights warm, happy making.

Soon he'd need to get up, wrap some presents, make some hot chocolate. Maybe do some work.

Right now, though, he thought he'd just have a sit and watch the lights blink.

When a warm set of hands scooped him up to take him back to bed, he barely woke from his Christmas eve dreams at all.

Giles and Xan

Giles took his seat for the auction, smiling at the couple sitting at the table with him.

He didn't need to buy Xan to get time with the man this year, but it was a tradition and it would be a shame to miss out on it just because they were actually together now.

He watched as men appeared on stage, time and services auctioned off for thousands of dollars. As he waited, he could feel anticipation building inside him. By the time it was Xan's turn, it felt almost as if he hadn't seen the man since the last time he'd bought Xan at last year's Christmas auction.

Long and lean, pale and marked -- his sub was beautiful. Fierce.

His.

Giles felt his prick respond to the site, and he sat a little straighter in his chair. He'd seen that body in pleasure, in pain, in passion. Every inch of it. He'd seen Xan fully focused on him, on the art, on nothing at all. He licked his lips, waiting for the auctioneer to begin the bidding on his boy.

"The offer is six hours, no holds barred."

The words themselves sent a thrill down his spine. He had plans for those six hours. Wicked, wonderful, delicious plans.

He grabbed his paddle. Xan was his.

Giles and Xan were introduced in Christmas Auction, followed up by New: The Two of Swords.

Jarheads

Rock's ankle was warm, solid in his hand where they sat, watching Jimmy Stewart in black and white and waiting for the kid to get home.

Warm and familiar.

Strong.

Like the fingers in his hair, moving slow and steady, combing though his hair from up there on the couch.

The Christmas lights reflected in the window, the dogs were all around him on the floor, and there was a promise of cinnamon and apples in the air from the cider he'd started slow-warming.

A car pulled into the driveway, the dogs starting to wag. Dick. Good deal.

Merry Christmas eve.

Graham and Elliot

Graham looked at the tree. "It's orange. You bought an orange tree?"

If Eliot used the excuse that it was 'green', he was going to scream.

"I did. You don't like it?" Oh, look at that man. Butter wouldn't melt in his fucking mouth.

"It's orange." Orange.

"It was lonely."

"Lonely? It's a tree."

"Seriously. It was in a corner of the lot, being shunned. It wasn't pretty."

"No. No, it isn't. It's orange. Spray painted orange."

El nodded and looked fondly at the orange tree. Fondly. At. The. Orange. Tree.

Insane.El was absolutely insane.

"We could put it up in the bedroom."

At least that way no one could see it from the living room.

Graham and Elliot are from Just the Right Notes

Jessy and Mike

Jessy sat in his beach chair, legs stretched out in front of him, sunglassed eyes half-closed as he watched Mike swim in the ocean.

God, his baby was beautiful. Mike moved like a dream, like a dolphin, body disappearing and reappearing in the waves.

He couldn't think of a better way to spend their Christmas break than just the two of them and the ocean, sand and sky.

He kept watching, letting Mike swim to his heart's content. There weren't any clocks, there were no rules, no training, just Mike and the water.

He saw the dark head pop up. saw Mike wave. Chuckling, he waved back. He loved that even immersed in the water and the swimming, Mike remembered he was there, making sure his baby stayed safe. He got a quick grin, then Mike was at it again.

He watched for a few more minutes and then hauled himself out of his chair and headed down to the water. He saw his baby, moving, breathing hard. He moved faster, feet hitting the water, making him gasp.

"Coach?" Mike's head popped up.

"Water's colder than I expected." He laughed. "You're a nut, being out here so long."

"Love it." Mike was panting, flushed, shaking.

"I know you do." He plowed on in, ignoring the cold.

Mike came to him, arms open. He went easily, wrapping his own arms around Mike, holding them together as the waves buffeted them.

"You're going to get cold."

He was? Christ, Mike didn't have any heat left. "So let's go back in and get warm."

"Yeah. C'mon." Mike nodded, headed them toward the shore.

He waded back as Mike swam for as long as he could, and then he hauled his baby up, chuckling as Mike shook like a dog, the water going flying. The tanned skin goosepimpled up, nipples hard. Jessy felt his body tighten -- he did love Mike's sweet body.

They hurried in, ducking the wind coming off the water. Jessy grabbed one of the towels hanging in the hooks by the door and wrapped it around Mike.

"Th...thanks." Shivering baby.

He pulled Mike into his arms, rubbing the terry cloth over his skin.

"Coach."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Warm."

"Come to bed, baby, I'll make you even warmer."

"Promise?"

He chuckled. "I promise."

"Good." Mike grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bed.

He landed on his boy and rolled them, holding on. "Hey, Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Jessy." The smile he got was worth more than any medals.

Jessy and Mike are from Personal Best, 1, 2 and 3.

Dave and Marshall

Dave watched his manager put the day's take into the bank deposit slot across the way, then waved the man off. He locked the door and set about turning off the rest of the lights. He hated the midnight madness the street always ran on the last Friday before Christmas.

Sure, it brought in a lot of sales, but it left the store a mess and his sales people cranky. Him, too.

He looked around the store and decided the place could stay messy as shit until morning.

Someone knocked on the front door. Rap rap rap.

"We're closed." He added a "god damn it," under his breath as he turned to shoo the latecomer away.

He heard the soft chuckle, saw Marshall's grin and the two cups of steaming coffee.

"Oh!" He unlocked the door and slid it open, letting his lover in. "My hero!"

"Hey, you. Thought you could use a hand." Man, that was a great smile.

"From you? Always." He beamed at Marshall, returning his lover's smile. "Of course the kind of hand I want is better off being given in the office than out here..."

"Good thing you're the owner and have a key, hmm?"

Marshall closed the door, locked it.

He focussed on his lover's ass. Fuck, it felt like it had been far too long since he'd had it. "Uh-huh."

Pretty, warm eyes met his in the reflection of the door. "Show me the office again, man. I'll make you forget it's the silly season."

"Only you can, man."

He put his arm around Marshall's waist and led his lover to the back room and a little privacy.

Dave and Marshall are from Burn.

More Jarheads

"We're out of coffee." Rig grabbed his coat, his wallet, and headed for the door.

Rock frowned at him. "Where are you going?"

Dick snagged his arm. "You want some company?"

"We're out of coffee." Now, he knew they hadn't had coffee in the house for three years, but...

Rock opened his mouth and then shut it again. "But..."

"I'll just grab some, huh? For Christmas?"

Rock shook his head. "No."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Rock, man. Try, no, but you can have some peppermint hot chocolate."

Rig stuck his tongue out at Dick. "Just one pot?"

"No." Rock growled the word, the bear coming out.

Dick shook his head, but he was grinning, too. "I think Rock's feeling pretty adamant about this."

"It's Christmas." He tried the pout.

"So?" Rock's eyes were on his mouth now, but it didn't look like coffee was on his mind.

"Uh..." Wait. What were they talking about?

"Uh-huh." Rock took his arm and hauled him in up against all those muscles.

"Wait..." His eyelids started to close.

One of Rock's eyebrows went up, a hand dropping to his ass and squeezing one cheek. "Wait?"

"I... Mmm. So good."

Dick came up behind him, his marines making his favorite kind of sandwich out of him.

What had he been talking about?

Dick's fingers slid between him and Rock, working their buttons open as Rock's mouth held his.

Oh. Right. Fucking.

As in Merry fucking Christmas.

Go him.