Brigham Vaughn's Blog, page 10

NEW YEAR NEW ME? OR NAH?

If I had to answer that question, I'd say I'm somewhere in between the two. I'm not a huge fan of ONLY making changes at the new year, but I do appreciate the feeling of a fresh new start at the beginning of the new year.

I try to see goal-setting as something that's a slow process rather than a huge overhaul. For one, huge overhauls rarely stick for me and it feels better if I slowly work on things as they come up, building on what I've previously done.

I've made a lot of changes in the past year. Tweaks to my ADHD meds, tweaks to my daily schedule and how I organize my habits/work. I've worked in more fitness and lots of other things that are good for my mental and physical health.

Those changes paid off in huge ways last year in so many aspects of my life. I feel stronger, happier, more successful, more organized. It wasn't perfect. There were setbacks. But I made progress and that's what makes me happy.

So I'm not planning a big overhaul in 2024. I do have some VERY BIG goals but they're spread out throughout the year.

I think when it comes down to it, my big change for the new year is actually planning ahead better.

I want to take my big goals and break them down into smaller parts so I can make sure I hit my target dates. That means scheduling time once a week/month/quarter to review them and plan when I'll work on them.

Like my books, I consider myself a work in progress.

Every year I learn a little bit more, tweak how I do things, and grow some more. And really, can you ask for anything more?

What about you? Are you a big New Years resolution person? Do you hate making goals at all? How do you feel about the start of a new year?

YEAR END WRAP UP GIVEAWAY

2023 was a fabulous year for me. To wrap up the year, I’m going to let you pick your favorites and offer a fun little giveaway. 

Every day from December 27th-31st, I'll post a question. On January 1st, I'll announce the winner! Grand Prize: A complete signed paperback series (your choice). International winners welcome. How to Enter: Answer all of the daily questions between Dec 27th-31st on whichever social media platform you choose.

Find the posts on my Facebook Author Page ,  Facebook Group , Instagram , and Twitter . 

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas, Book Nerds!

Whether you celebrate or not, I hope you have a wonderful day and that it's filled with joy and relaxation.

I'll have a quiet day with my parents. We'll have brunch, open gifts, then do dinner and maybe watch a movie or play a game or something after.

What about you? How are you planning to spend your day?

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 12

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

SANTA BABY

DAY:  12

CHARACTERS: Charlie Monaghan & Dustin Fowler + the Fisher Cats team

PROMPTS: Santa Baby + Red Lingerie

NOTES: Set immediately after ,The Husband Game ends. This one is a little bit spicy!

 

Charlie nestled into the crook of Dustin’s arm, pleased with himself for the way their holiday party was going.

There had been the team skate earlier today and, after, most of the guys and their families had come over to Dustin and Charlie’s place for some drinks and appetizers.

Everyone had congregated in the basement rec area and seemed to be having a good time.

There was a ping pong game going and people were swimming in the indoor pool. Guys had been taking turns with the golf simulator and there were lots of small pockets of conversation happening around the space.

Charlie had hated the rec area when he’d moved into Dustin’s house this past summer, but now? Oh, he loved it. His careful redesign had made it look infinitely better and now there was much better usage of the space.

The lounge area was actually near the wet bar, and there was color and warmth and life to the area now.

But although Charlie had never been to one of the team Christmas parties before, he had a feeling it was more toned-down than usual this year.

Felix Hale was in rehab and although Nico Arents was doing surprisingly well following his brain surgery for a benign tumor, he’d seemed rather subdued at the earlier team skate.

Of course, that was probably because he hadn’t been allowed on the ice today. Word was it would be a long time before Nico could skate again and that was wearing on everyone, especially him.

Charlie hadn’t been surprised when Nico had turned down the invitation to come tonight. Instead, he’d said he needed to rest and had gone off with his yummy referee/fiancé August Manning.

Dustin didn’t believe Charlie, but Charlie would swear Nico and August were faking the engagement. Not that there weren’t feelings there or that there wasn’t some serious chemistry—Charlie could spot that from a mile away—but something about their story didn’t ring quite true.

And really, it took one to know one.

Charlie and Dustin had started out faking their relationship too.

In their case, it had been because they’d gotten very drunk and very married in Vegas last summer. It had all worked out in the end. Rather spectacularly, if Charlie did say so.

But he had no idea why Nico and August would be faking it. A player and a ref dating was certainly a big no-no, but being engaged?

That sounded like quite the gamble to Charlie.

But, whatever the reason, they seemed very into each other and Charlie was glad Nico had someone to support him while he dealt with his brain surgery rehabilitation.

And poor Felix … Charlie shook his head. He’d had a rough go of it lately too and was dealing with an altogether different sort of rehab.

Following a nasty breakup, he’d gone a bit off the rails with drinking and been arrested after he smashed into a parked vehicle. Thankfully, no one had been harmed and, according to Dustin, Felix was doing as well as could be expected in the program.

But the loss of two of the team’s major players had certainly put a pall on the beginning of the season. And despite the festivities planned for the holidays, everyone seemed a bit quieter than usual.

Except the kids. Charlie smiled at the sight of Anton and Elena Makarov’s herd of children cannonballing into the pool with wild yells.

“Having a good time?” Dustin asked in his ear.

“I am.” Charlie let out a contented sigh. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

“They are. Thanks for organizing this.” Dustin pressed his lips to Charlie’s temple.

“I had fun with it.”

Charlie liked playing host and now that the major renovations on the bottom two floors of the house were done, it was a whole lot easier.

“Have I told you how good you look in that outfit?” Dustin asked.

Charlie smiled. Once he got home from skating, he’d changed into a cute little red Santa dress with fluffy white trim, along with red fuck-me heels and a festive Santa hat.

Dustin loved when he wore pretty things and Charlie had a feeling the minute the team left, he’d be getting bent over the nearest surface. Or, if Dustin was in a particular mood, maybe Charlie would be bending him over.

Either way, it would be a very nice way to end the day’s celebration.

“Hey, Charlie,” Matty called. “Do you have any more cranberry juice?”

“Oh! Are we running low on mixers?” Charlie shrugged out from under Dustin’s arm, popped to his feet, and walked over to the wet bar where he’d set up a mix-your-own-drink station with plenty of cocktail and mocktail options.

“Little bit.” Matty grinned at him. “I checked the bar fridge down here, but I don’t see any cranberry juice and we’re almost out of grapefruit.”

“Not to worry,” Charlie said with a smile back. “We’ve got more upstairs. Let me grab them.”

“Thanks! This cranberry ginger fizz is great.”

“Glad you like it.” Charlie patted his arm. “I’ll be back in a few.”

As he passed by the comfy chair where Dustin sat, he tilted his head up. “Need some help carrying things, kitten?”

Charlie smiled at his husband. “Nah, I’ve got it. Thanks though.”

He climbed the stairs to the main floor, aware of Dustin’s appreciative gaze on his stockinged legs. Oh yeah, it was going to be a hot night, that was for certain.

Even if the city was about to get whomped by a winter storm.

As Charlie walked into the kitchen, his heels clicked on the newly-laid maple floors. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to believe this was all real. He had a gorgeous husband who loved him like crazy, an incredible career, a beautiful home to redecorate, a hockey team he adored spending time with, fabulous friends, a cushy bank account, and he was in a better place with his eating disorder than he had been in years.

Yes. Life was very good right now. Some days, he felt like he had it all.

Charlie pulled a couple of bottles of juice out of the main refrigerator and set them on the counter, debating if he should refill a few of the appetizer platters too.

“You sure you don’t need any help, kitten?”

He jerked in surprise and whirled on his heels to see his husband staring at him. “Well, you gave me a fright!” He pressed his hand to his chest.

“Sorry.” Clearly contrite, Dustin stepped forward, sliding his hands along Charlie’s hips. “Didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Charlie looped his arms around Dustin’s neck and kissed him.

Dustin let out a pleased hum and kissed him back. It turned filthy quickly, as it so often did with them. Charlie had no complaints. His husband was a passionate man and that was something Charlie very much appreciated about him.

Still, when Dustin slid a hand under the hem of his flirty Santa dress, Charlie gently pulled away.

“Hey now! We shouldn’t get too carried away,” he teased as he waggled his finger. He could hear people talking downstairs, a low murmur of voices that reminded him they absolutely weren’t alone. “Not before the party’s over anyway.”

Dustin scoffed. “Oh, like they would even notice.”

“They would if they came up here and saw us fucking on the counter!”

“Yeah? Like this?” With a smirk, Dustin grabbed Charlie’s hips and lifted him to sit on the honed black granite.

Charlie squealed at the sudden chill on his butt cheeks. “Oh my God, that's so cold!”

Dustin raised an eyebrow and reached out to flip up the hem of his short dress. “Are you wearing a thong or something?”

Charlie grinned, biting his lip as he lightly slapped Dustin’s hand, pinning it against his thigh so he couldn’t see under the fabric. “Maayybe.”

Dustin’s gaze sharpened, his voice going rough. “And was that red lace I saw?”

“Why?” Charlie asked coyly. “Do you like it?”

“Kitten …” Dustin growled and pushed between Charlie’s thighs, cupping the back of his neck as he kissed him, his tongue delving into Charlie’s mouth in a heated, possessive kiss as if to show him exactly how much he liked it.

Pleased, Charlie wrapped his legs around Dustin’s hips, moaning against his mouth when Dustin’s very hard cock pressed against his own.

Dustin let out a stuttered gasp and ground against him.

The sound of people talking grew louder, like they were coming up the stairs, and Charlie frantically pushed at Dustin’s shoulder. “Shit. Someone’s coming.”

But rather than spring away and compose himself like Charlie had expected, Dustin scooped Charlie into his arms and lifted him, striding toward the laundry room.

Charlie stifled a squeal of surprise and a few moments later was deposited on top of the washer. It was a very tall washer, sitting on a small riser, so his feet didn’t even come close to touching the ground.

“Dustin!” he hissed, but Dustin merely reached out and shut the door behind them, plunging them into darkness. Then the lights flicked on and Dustin’s gaze darted around the room.

He grabbed an old wooden dining chair Charlie had been meaning to donate and shoved it under the door handle, effectively locking them in. Charlie had dragged the chair into the room the other day to change a lightbulb and never gotten around to sticking it in his Jeep.

He couldn’t decide if he was annoyed at himself or grateful.

They really shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the party. But at least now no one could walk in on them.

When Dustin stepped forward, sliding his hands up Charlie’s thighs, Charlie shook his head in amusement. “Are you serious? Are we really doing this here? And now?”

“Yes.” Dustin’s gaze was intent. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Charlie would be lying if he said he didn’t want to. Of course, he wanted Dustin. He wanted Dustin every waking minute of every day and probably when he was sleeping too.

Dustin was the sweetest, kindest, best husband Charlie could have ever asked for.

Not to mention the most passionate. He made Charlie feel so cherished and adored and wanted. And, oh God, when all of his focus was on Charlie and he was looking at him like that? Charlie didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Charlie muttered as he lunged for Dustin, almost falling off the washer, sliding a hand into Dustin’s hair and kissing him frantically.

So what if there was a party going on downstairs? The team made themselves at home here all the time anyway. They could fend for themselves for all Charlie cared at the moment.

And really, how was he supposed to think about anything else when Dustin kissed him like that?

 

***

Dustin’s heart raced as he slid his hands steadily up Charlie’s thighs, kneading the muscles there. He stilled when he reached mid-thigh, intrigued by what he felt under his palms.

“Oh, kitten. Let me see,” he rasped before he slid his hands under the white trim of the short dress.

Charlie coyly leaned back, flipping the skirt up to his waist, revealing what hid beneath. There was, in fact, red lace like he’d suspected. But the whole look was so much more than he’d expected.

A snug, sheer red G-string wrapped around Charlie’s hips and hugged his cock. Alone, that would have been enough to make Dustin’s mouth water. But there was a garter belt too.

The garter was made from a satiny red ribbon that wrapped around Charlie’s waist. From there, beautiful red lace flowed over his hips into a delicate band of ribbon that wrapped around each thigh.

The lingerie made Charlie look like the perfect Christmas gift, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow for Dustin.

“Remind me to fuck you in this under the Christmas tree sometime,” Dustin said with a low growl.

“Well, I was going to suggest that later. You weren’t supposed to discover these until after the party,” Charlie said with a laugh.

Dustin shot him a grin. “What can I say? I’m not very good at doing what I’m supposed to.”

Charlie scoffed. “I think that’s my line.”

“Maybe my good behavior goes out the window when it comes to you.”

A little smile curved up the corner of Charlie’s mouth. “Now that I believe.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

Unable to wait any longer, Dustin bent and kissed Charlie’s thigh, right between the lace and mesh. He breathed in Charlie’s familiar scent and once again thanked his lucky stars that somehow, he’d not only found Charlie but got to keep him.

Dustin lifted Charlie’s thighs until they were spread wide and draped over his shoulders, the points of Charlie’s spiky heels digging into his lats.

Dustin nosed his way to Charlie’s cock, licking his way across the fine mesh before he slid the fabric aside. Charlie was half hard and Dustin took him into his mouth eagerly, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock.

He didn’t waste any time, taking Charlie deep before sliding back up and beginning a quick rhythm.

Charlie slid a hand into his hair, guiding his pace, and Dustin let out a hum. He liked that Charlie was never shy about showing him how to please him. When Charlie was hard in his mouth, leaking a little, he urged Dustin to go faster.

Dustin obliged, the press of his own cock against his fly making him groan around Charlie. That made Charlie tighten his grip and Dustin shuddered, so achingly turned on by Charlie in his sexy, red lingerie and by the risk of someone overhearing them.

The wet sounds of Dustin’s mouth seemed so loud in the quiet room and he shifted, palming his cock to relieve the pressure.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m so close,” Charlie rasped. Dustin redoubled his efforts, losing himself in the taste and feel of Charlie.

The sound of familiar voices approaching made Dustin jerk in surprise. He stilled, Charlie’s hand gripping his hair tightly as they both panted.

“I really don’t know where they are,” Natasha said with a laugh, sounding much closer now.

Dustin glanced up, wide-eyed, at Charlie to see what he wanted to do. Stop or keep going? his eyes asked.

With a wicked smile, Charlie rocked his hips and Dustin began to move again, sliding his wet mouth slowly up and down, careful not to make any noise.

Jordan chuckled. “My money’s on them being upstairs in the bedroom. You know what they’re like. They can’t keep their hands off each other.”

Dustin’s grip tightened on Charlie’s thighs as his cock pulsed against his tongue. Charlie wasn’t coming yet but, oh, he was close.

Fuck, this was so unexpectedly hot that Dustin felt dizzy.

“Oh, like you were any better when we were getting ready to come here tonight.” Natasha teased her boyfriend. “You made us twenty-minutes late to this party.”

“But you look so good in that dress, baby,” Jordan said with a soft laugh.

The laundry door thumped lightly, like they’d pressed up against it. Dustin heard Charlie muffle a giggle, but his grip on Dustin’s hair didn’t lighten.

So Dustin kept going.

He had to work slowly so he wouldn’t make any noise, but he sucked harder, using his tongue to tease Charlie’s shaft. It wasn’t long before Charlie’s thighs trembled against his shoulders.

Charlie let out a quiet gasp, body going tight, and then he was coming, pushing deeper into Dustin’s mouth as he came in several long, hard spurts.

Dustin swallowed Charlie’s release greedily, his own dick throbbing with urgent need.

“Fuck. We should get out of here,” Jordan said in a rough voice, breathing heavily, and Dustin wondered exactly what they were getting up to out there.

“Shouldn’t we say goodbye?” Natasha asked.

“Nah. It’ll be fine. Besides, what do you want to do? Walk in on them having sex?”

“No!” Natasha giggled. “I just don’t want to bail on the party without saying goodbye.”

“Whatever. I’ll text D later.”

Their voices faded as they walked away and Dustin fumbled for the fly of his gray trousers. He pulled his cock out then spat in his palm, frantically jerking himself as he stared at Charlie’s softening cock still glistening with his spit as it rested against the red lace of his garter.

“Fuck, fuck,” Dustin muttered, the orgasm tearing through him with a suddenness that took him by surprise. He shot onto the lace, his head swimming as he came over and over again, breath loud and ragged in the quiet room.

When the haze finally cleared from his head, he slumped forward, bracing himself on the washer as he rested his head against Charlie’s shoulder.

“Oh my God.” Charlie let out a soft sigh, idly playing with his hair. “That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Dustin lifted his head to look him in the eye. “You liked that?”

“You couldn’t tell?” Charlie sounded incredulous.

Dustin gave him a slow grin. “Just wanted to be sure you were as into it as I was.”

“Oh, I’m into it,” Charlie purred.

“Good to know.” Dustin gave him a slow smile, then realized his hand was sticky and Charlie was probably feeling even worse. “Need some help cleaning up?”

Charlie glanced down at his lap and giggled, still holding the hem of the dress against his belly. “Yes. Or I’m going to ruin my pretty dress. I think you already wrecked the G-string and garter.”

“It’s okay.” Dustin reached for a towel in the basket of clean clothes they fortunately hadn’t quite gotten around to folding yet. “I’ll buy you six more.”

He smiled as he gently dabbed Charlie clean. He had at least that many pretty, lacy things already wrapped under their Christmas tree.

“Thanks.” Charlie gave him a sweet smile before he carefully slid to the floor. He shimmied out of the lingerie and tossed it into the washer before plucking the dirty towel from Dustin’s fingers and throwing it in too. “I’ll deal with those later.”

Dustin let out a groan and paused, zipper halfway up, as he pictured that. “Kitten, if you’re wandering around the rest of the party with nothing on underneath, I am going to lose my mind.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous!” Charlie laughed. “There are children here. I’m going upstairs to put on another pair of underwear. Besides, you messed up my lipstick! I have to go touch it up, anyway.”

Once Dustin was put away and fully dressed, he removed the chair wedged under the door handle. He stuck his head out and looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but the coast was clear and they made it up to their bedroom without being spotted.

They took a few minutes to tidy up but when they strolled back down the stairs to the rec area, they were immediately greeted with a mix of groans, catcalls, and whistles.

“Going to get mixers,” Matty scoffed. “Riiiight.”

“Whoops.” Charlie giggled and looked at the unopened bottles on the counter. “Forgot about that.”

Grinning, Dustin wondered who had come upstairs to get the juice and what they might’ve overheard.

With a mental shrug, he decided he didn’t care. Oh well. So what if his team knew what they’d been up to? They’d be lucky to have someone like Charlie in their lives.

“Eh, fuck off,” Dustin said with a laugh. “It’s our house. We can do what we want. Charlie, you want a drink?”

“Sure. I am a little thirsty now.” He winked and someone across the room groaned.

Dustin walked over to the wet bar to mix Charlie a cocktail and Colton snorted. “Well, I see someone’s been kissing Santa Claus.”

“Hmm?” Dustin asked, confused.

Charlie sidled up with a smirk. “Whoops. Looks like I missed a bit of lipstick here.” Charlie rubbed his thumb across Dustin’s jaw. 

Dustin’s grin widened. “Ahh, well, just call me Mrs. Claus.” He slipped a hand behind Charlie’s neck and another around his waist, dipping him, and laid a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas, kitten.”

Glowing and happy, Charlie wrapped his arms around Dustin’s neck and snuggled close. “Merry Christmas, husband.”

The team might be struggling at the moment, but Dustin still felt like the luckiest man alive.

It was going to be a very good Christmas this year.

         

Enjoyed the story? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!

This is the very last of the Christmas stories and I'll be honest, I'm a little sad they're over! It was a lot of work (over twenty-eight thousand words!) but I had a wonderful time revisiting some of my favorite characters.

I hope you enjoyed the glimpses into their lives, spent some old favorites and maybe discovered a few new stories to check out.

Thank you for taking the time to read and leave comments, I really enjoyed seeing your thoughts.

I hope your holidays are bright and merry and that you have a happy end of the year. Thanks for joining me! -Brigham

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 11

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

BEACH PICNIC

DAY: 11

CHARACTERS: Chris Allen & Elliot Rawlins + the Allen Family

PROMPTS: Beach Picnic + Knitted Stockings

NOTES: Set the Christmas Eve after ,The Ghosts Between Us ends.

“I think it might rain soon.”

I glanced at the sky, squinting at the dark clouds. “Definitely looks like it.”

“This was nice though.”

I lowered my head to look at Elliot. He stared out at the crashing surf a few yards away, strands of dark hair tangling in the wind. “Yeah?”

Elliot turned, bending his head to rest his cheek against his updrawn knees, looking at me with his unfathomable gray eyes. “Yeah. I know this first Christmas without Cal is going to be tough. And your parents are trying to make new holiday traditions so we all have a good time. I just … I think it was good that we took a little time to acknowledge what we’re missing this year.”

“I do too.” I reached out to take his hand, tangling our fingers together.

It was complicated, being in love with a man who’d dated my brother. Who’d lost him and grieved him like I had.

I’d thought spending an hour or two where I felt the strongest connection to my brother right before a holiday when I’d feel his loss acutely would be good for both of us.

Still, I’d been a little hesitant to suggest we take a picnic to Rockaway Beach, afraid of upsetting the equilibrium we’d worked so hard for.

When I’d finally proposed the idea of visiting Cal’s favorite beach, Elliot had seemed —if not enthusiastic— in agreement about going. Knowing it had been healing for him too made me glad we’d done it.

I was relieved that Elliot and I were in a good place now. Settled.

The loss of Cal was still there—would always be there in some small ways—but it had broken down a little, like new denim beginning to soften with wear.

With time.

“Love you,” I murmured.

Elliot flashed me a soft smile, so much less rare than it had been when we first met. “Love you too.”

“We should probably pack up and get out of here before the skies open up,” I said reluctantly. We’d been foolish to leave our rain jackets in the car. The weather in Oregon could be fickle at best and rain was a frequent part of our lives, even on Christmas Eve.

As if I’d conjured up the rain with my words, a fat, wet drop plopped onto the scuffed, well-loved surfboard of Cal’s that we’d been using as a makeshift picnic table.

Elliot laughed. “I think we might be too late actually.”

He was right.

By the time we gathered the remainder of our food and packed it away, the rain was coming down in a steady drizzle.

We ran, hand in hand, clutching our belongings, the surfboard tucked under my arm.

“We’re gonna be drenched before we get to the car!” I shouted over the noise of the wind and waves. We’d walked quite a distance to get to the sheltered cove where we’d enjoyed our picnic and even at a sprint, it would take us at least ten minutes to get back.

“I have an idea! C’mon.” Elliot tugged on my hand and I followed blindly, the rain making it difficult to see.

A few moments later, he pulled me under a rocky outcropping, a shallow cave carved into the shoreline by the elements.

“Shit,” I wiped the water from my face. “It’s really coming down hard now!”

I could hardly see through the opening of the cave, the rain a sheet of water that obscured the crashing surf and sky from view.

Elliot grinned, his wet hair tangled against his cheeks. “This is your fault!”

“Yeah?” I grinned back, helpless to do anything else when he was happy.

“It is! You said it!”

“Well, good thing you know all the secret hiding spots then,” I teased, grateful I no longer felt the need to shout.

I set Cal’s board down, leaning it vertically against the cave wall.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been caught in a rainstorm here,” he said with a shrug. “I like to come in here and wait it out before I go back out in the water.”

He hadn’t surfed today, but it was something he did regularly. I did it more than I had in the past, although my schedule as a doctor allowed me a little less flexibility than Elliot’s as a full-time artist.

“It’s very nice,” I said. “For a cave.”

Elliot laughed and set down his soft-sided cooler and backpack. “What can I say? I know how to show you a good time.”

I smiled, pulling him close. “You do. You showed me a very good time when we woke up this morning.”

Elliot laughed again, softer this time, his mouth warm against my jaw.

For a few moments, we just held each other until Elliot shivered. I pulled back, peering at the rain again.

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon. Do you want to just make a run for it?”

“Yeah, it’s coming down hard.” He grimaced. “But no, not really. I’m not sure I want to sit in wet clothes in the car for the two hours it’ll take us to drive back to Portland.”

“Good point.”

“Might as well make ourselves comfortable here, I guess.” Elliot unzipped the backpack, pulling out the beach towel we’d packed. He dabbed at his face before handing it to me. “You should dry off before I wring out my hair.”

His hair was long enough to dust his collarbone and had soaked up the rain quickly, so I nodded and dried my face, arms, and much shorter hair the best I could before I handed the towel back.

I watched, transfixed, as the limp, sodden strands turned into dark ringlets. He shot a brief, distracted smile at me, the way he always did when I stared at him this way.

But there was something compelling about Elliot. Something magnetic. I’d risked everything to be with him, including my own family, and I still felt an electric charge every time he was near.

He rolled his eyes at me and I looked away, still smiling, as I busied myself with pulling the large picnic blanket out of the cooler where I’d hastily stuffed it earlier.

I shook the blanket out, intending to spread it over the sand, but I frowned when a thought occurred to me. “Wait, does the tide come in this far? I don’t want to get trapped in here when it comes in.”

“Good thought,” Elliot said, “but we should be fine. The water never comes this high. I think it’s just wind that brought the sand in here.”

Relieved, I spread out the blanket and took a seat on it. Elliot knew the area better than I did and I trusted him.

“Come here,” I said when he was done drying his hair, the towel set aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”

He reached for a sweatshirt he’d packed too, and after a bit of shuffling, we settled on the blanket, using the backpack as a makeshift pillow.

We curled up together under the sweatshirt, bodies intertwined.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a cold day.

Not like most Christmas Eves anyway, where the temperature usually hovered in the low forties. We’d had a warm spell this week and today it had reached almost sixty, but rain-soaked, there was definitely a chill to the air.

It felt good to have Elliot so close. For many reasons.

“Sorry our picnic ended this way,” I said ruefully.

“It’s not all bad.” Elliot brushed his lips to the hinge of my jaw and I leaned into the touch, closing my eyes.

“No, it isn’t.”

We kissed, the heat growing between us until I shifted, letting the sweatshirt tumble to the blanket beneath us. I reached for Elliot’s trousers and lifted an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he wanted this.

He nodded, leaning back and propping himself on his arms to watch as I peeled away the damp fabric. His cock was soft at first but I took it in my mouth, feeling him harden against my tongue. The air was filled with the rich, damp smell of the sea and I could taste the faint salty richness of Elliot’s skin.

They mingled together until I could hardly differentiate between the two.

His hands were gentle in my hair as he guided me over him and when he came, it was like the break of an ocean swell pouring over a rock. I swallowed then leaned in to kiss the soft skin beside his hip before I tucked him away.

He smiled at me when I was done and pulled me in for a kiss, his mouth warm and sweet against mine.

“You too,” he murmured quietly, and I realized what he meant as he gently pushed me onto my back.

He pulled my clothing out of the way and sucked me slowly.

I couldn’t watch his head bob over me, but the feel of his dark, damp curls brushing my inner thighs was enough to make my heart race. Instead, I threw my head back, staring up at the rough stone ceiling.

When I got close, he pressed his thumbs into my skin, holding my legs apart, and I knew I’d have marks there by morning.

I came with a hoarse cry, the pleasure swelling like the sea until it pulled me under.

When we were dressed and snuggled close again, we lay there silently, listening to the pounding rain and surf, cocooned in our own private world.

I drowsed a little, sleepy and content, until I heard my name.

“Chris?” Elliot whispered.

“Yeah?” I tilted my head and smiled at him.

“I think the rain’s letting up.”

It had slowed to a damp trickle and I could see sunlight trying to pierce the gray clouds.

“I’m not sorry we got caught in the rain,” I said and he smiled back, looking just like the brightening sky outside.

***

Chris slept on the drive home to Portland, head pillowed on my rolled-up sweatshirt.

Mellow music played in the background, the only other noise the soft hush of the tires on the rain-slick road below.

The sun was going down by the time we arrived at Chris’s childhood home.

It was decorated for Christmas, with lights strung around the large, beautiful house and a bright tree in the front window.

I took a deep breath and then another.

We’d been through so much, all of us, in the wake of Cal’s death. I’d resented the Allens, resented Cal, resented Chris … In different, unknowing ways, we’d all hurt one another

without meaning to.

Christopher Sr. was a recovering alcoholic and his wife, Sarah, had turned to someone else in her loneliness.

Their relationship had nearly broken apart under the weight of their grief last year, and Chris and I had nearly capsized on those same rocky shores. But in the end, we’d fought for one another. Fought to be here.

Fought to create a strange, uncertain family despite the difficult circumstances. Despite the complicated history.

I loved Chris too fiercely to let him go, loved him in a way I’d never loved anyone, not even Cal. But my past made me wary of trusting anyone, and I braced myself for tension and unease before this first holiday together.

But when I shook Chris awake, he blinked sleepily at me and leaned forward to press his nose to my hair. We held each other a moment and I knew that no matter what, I’d rather be here with him than anywhere else.

As we walked up the sidewalk a few minutes later, carrying our overnight bags and a stack of gifts, the door opened.

“Come in, come in!” Sarah said, the glow of the holiday lights and the warmth of her smile drawing me inside.

Christopher Sr. was crouched down, poking at the fire, and he greeted me with a smile too, hands steady and eyes clear, and I let out a breath, allowing the tension in my shoulders to soften.

“Merry Christmas,” he said as he stood to shake my hand. “Oh, you look like you got caught in the rain. Why don’t you and Chris go warm up in the shower? Dinner won’t be for a while yet.”

“That would be nice,” I said. “Thank you.”

My gaze drifted toward the mantle, crowded with framed photographs, and I caught a glimpse of the family from years ago. In happier days. When Cal was still alive.

Christopher must have noticed because he tilted his head toward the photo. “It’s tough, isn’t it?”

I nodded solemnly.

“But we’re here now and there’s a lot to look forward to, isn’t there.”

“Yes,” I said simply. “There is.”

Chris, who had been arranging gifts under the tree, stepped closer. “Should we tell them now?”

“Yes.”

“Elliot and I put in an application to be adoptive parents.” He glanced between Christopher and Sarah. “I know you hoped for biological grandkids, but we feel like this is the right choice for us.”

“Oh!” Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth. “But that’s wonderful news, isn’t it?”

Christopher’s gaze was warm. “It is. We’re happy for you both.”

“It’ll probably take a while,” Chris warned.

“That’s fine,” Sarah said. “It’ll give me time to knit some more stockings.”

I glanced at the stockings hanging over the fireplace, reaching out to touch the one that had the name Elliot stitched along the cuff.

In my tumultuous childhood, I’d never had anything like it. Not a stocking or a mantle to hang it from, and thought that maybe we were all healing. Maybe every shaky step we took was toward a future brighter than the past we were learning to leave behind.

Twenty minutes later as I stepped into the hot shower and Chris slid in behind me, he hooked his chin on my shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding his hands up my stomach and making me shiver with pleasure.

I nodded, letting my head fall back so he could kiss his way up my neck. “More than okay,” I assured him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think we’re going to have a good Christmas.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Me too.”

I’d spent a good chunk of my adolescence sleeping in cars. Going hungry. Looking for a leg up. Or just a break.

Looking for stability. For love.

Seeing those perfect, happy families from the outside and wondering what it felt like to be a part of one.

But I realized now that perfection was an illusion. Happiness didn’t mean there were no scars.

No flaws. It didn’t mean there weren’t deep wounds or that there hadn’t been rough paths to travel.

Only that at the end of those travels, there were people welcoming you home with open arms.

Enjoyed the story? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 10

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

SNOWY CABIN

DAY: 10

CHARACTERS: Noah Boucher & Simon Lawrence

PROMPTS: Snowy Cabin + Firelight

NOTES: Set roughly one year after ,Bending the Rules ends

 

Simon settled on his side, head propped on his arm, still panting lightly as he looked Noah over. He lay on his back, bare skin glistening in the firelight.

God, he took Simon’s breath away sometimes. He’d been retired from hockey for a year and a half, but no one had told his body that.

Every toned dip and hollow of his toned abdomen was illuminated by the warm light of the fire that made his hair glow red-gold.

Simon’s husband was a beautiful man.

As always, Simon’s fingers itched to reach for his camera to preserve the moment. But he’d taken so many photos of Noah over the years and this moment felt too private, too perfect to let anything intrude.

Even Simon’s love of photography.

“I can see the way you’re looking at me. I can’t get it up again this soon, Simon,” Noah said with a groan, flinging his arm up to rest it over his eyes. “I love you, but I am spent. If you can get hard, you can fuck me, but …”

Simon laughed, scooting closer to press a kiss to Noah’s chest. “It’s okay. I don’t think I can get it up again either. Not for a while anyway.”

It certainly wasn’t for lack of desire in either of them. More that they’d already exhausted themselves. Despite all of Noah’s obligations this weekend, they’d found ample time to connect.

On every surface of this gorgeous little cabin in Colorado.

If Simon was a betting man, he’d put his money on them finding a few new places before they left in two days.

“What was that look for then?” Noah teased, curving an arm around Simon and drawing him closer. “Eyeing me through your mental lens?”

He liked to tease Simon that if he could have a camera implanted in his head, he’d do it. Noah wasn’t wrong.

“Mmm, something like that,” Simon said with a laugh. He trailed his fingers across the dip of Noah’s stomach, the soft hairs there tickling his fingertips. “Thinking about how great this trip has been.”

“It has been, eh?”

Simon nodded and settled his head on Noah’s shoulder. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Thank you for …”

He couldn’t quite finish the thought.

“For what, Simon?” Noah gently placed his fingertips under Simon’s chin and tilted his head so they looked each other in the eye.

“For not letting your obligations get in the way of our relationship.”

Noah frowned. “I could say the same thing to you.”

Simon shrugged. “As much as I love the gallery, as much as I want to be there to support Leah in the business, it isn’t the same. You’re a public figure. The first out NHL player. You have a duty to the queer hockey community to—to be available when they need you.”

“And that’s why you started coming on these trips with me.”

Simon nodded, staring past Noah’s ear at the crackling flames. “I know. It’s just … I wonder if I’ve been selfish.”

“Selfish?” Noah scoffed. “Simon, if anything you haven’t been selfish enough.”

“I suppose.”

“No, look at me.”

Simon lifted his gaze.

“You matter to me. Our relationship matters. What we were doing wasn’t balanced enough before.”

“I know,” Simon said. And he really did.

Their relationship had begun under less than ideal circumstances. Noah had been recovering from a knee injury and on the brink of returning to the NHL to make a final push to win the Stanley Cup as Toronto’s starting goaltender.

The Fisher Cats had come out triumphant and Noah had retired a hero, but it hadn’t been an easy road for either of them, or their budding relationship.

The building that housed Simon’s not-yet-open art gallery in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, had been undergoing renovations and had kept him far from Noah in Toronto.

Although Noah’s future plans included retiring to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the distance between them at the time had been tough. And distance and hockey had already stolen their chance to be together once.

Eventually, Simon’s stress over the gallery opening had led to him being hospitalized with anxiety-related chest pains. They’d both been relieved when the gallery was finally up and running. And even happier when Noah was finally settled into Simon’s apartment above the gallery.

The past two years had been wonderful in so many ways.

They’d gotten engaged. Then married. Simon and Leah’s gallery had flourished.  Noah’s post-retirement dream of owning a restaurant with his brother-in-law had become a reality.

Noah loved his work coaching a group of the very youngest local hockey players.

But all of those wonderful things had become increasingly difficult in the past year.

Too many people wanted Noah’s time.

There were interviews and media panels. Requests for public appearances. He was asked to consult on policies and new initiatives. It was important work and Noah was good at all of it.

But it seemed to become a self-perpetuating thing where one appearance led to half a dozen more until it snowballed out of control.

Simon’s work for the gallery had him traveling semi-regularly too and after a few months of newly-married life where Simon and Noah passed like ships in the night, they’d both realized something needed to change.

It had been a good discussion, one promising good growth for their relationship. They found balance.

The compromise they’d landed on was a solid one. Noah had cut down on work that took him away from home and as often as Simon was able, he traveled with him.

He and Leah had hired some new people at the gallery and Simon had shifted his focus to searching for new artistic talent. He worked in meetings with artists around Noah’s appearance schedule and even though they spent a lot of time on the road, they made it work.

They could do their own thing during the day, but they always returned to the hotel room together at night.

This weekend was one such trip.

Noah had been invited to take part in a charity hockey game in Colorado. It was an incredible outdoor event and Noah’s playing never failed to blow Simon away.

The entire event had been LGBTQ+ focused and had raised over fifty thousand dollars for various organizations and initiatives Noah supported.

A few former NHL players and players from various levels of hockey had participated, but Noah was, by far, the most well-known.

Now, Simon gazed proudly at his husband lying next to him.

“You have no idea how many people stopped me to tell me what a difference you’ve made in the sport,” he said aloud.

Noah nodded. “I heard the same.”

“I mean, I know it’s true,” Simon admitted. “I’ve been hearing that since we got together. Hell, I’ve known that since you came out. But it really hit me this weekend. The number of people who you’ve impacted is staggering. How can I ask you to do less.”

Noah shifted, turning onto his side until they were face to face. Despite the nearby fire, the loss of contact with Noah’s body made Simon shiver and Noah reached for a nearby blanket, throwing it over them.

When they’d settled, Noah cupped his cheek. “Simon, you’re not asking me. I’m offering. I have been trying for months and it’s working. I’m home more. We spend more time together.

But I still take part in the events that are the highest priority for me.”

“But you could do more,” Simon insisted.

“Sure. But at what cost? No life with you?”

Simon shrugged, feeling a little helpless. He desperately wanted more time with Noah, but now that he’d seen what an impact Noah continued to make … well, it felt a little selfish.

“Of course, I want a life with you,” Simon answered, grabbing Noah’s hand and kissing his wedding band. “I want this marriage. I want children with you someday. But—”

“Simon.” Noah’s voice was low and steady. “The best thing I can do for queer kids, for queer people is show them what’s possible. And yeah, that’s my hockey career. My other work. But so much of it is also about our relationship. Showing them what a loving, committed relationship looks like.”

Simon took a moment to digest that. “True. And this weekend has been wonderful. Don’t get me wrong. I just … I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Hey. You’re not.” Noah’s gaze was intent. “You’ve done nothing but support me. But this is what I want too, Simon. If people want a relationship where they never see their partner, then they should do what makes them happy. But I spent too many nights without you. And that doesn’t make me happy. If we’re going to have kids, I want to be there for them. And for you.

This is a partnership and I want to put in my half of the work, not expect you to shoulder it all alone.”

“I know that,” Simon assured him. “And that’s what I want too.”

They’d planned to have kids already, but it had been put on hold because of how busy they both were.

Simon let out a quiet sigh. “You’re right. I know you are.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Noah said.

Chuckling, Simon pulled him closer, kissing him.

“In fact,” Noah said as he twined their legs together. “I think it’s about time we finalize those surrogacy plans we discussed.”

“Yeah?”

Leah, Simon’s business partner, and Margot, Noah’s sister, had both volunteered.

“Yes,” Noah said simply. “I want a family with you, Simon. And I want to be home with my family.”

“I want that too.”

“Then when we get home in a few days, let's get started. Maybe by this time next year we won’t be spending the week before Christmas in a cabin in Colorado. Maybe we’ll be welcoming a new baby into the world. Hanging a stocking with their name on it above our fireplace.”

“That’ll mean less sex on rugs in front of fireplaces like this one.” Simon’s tone was dry.

“It will,” Noah agreed. “So let’s make the best of it this year.”

A big grin lit up Noah’s handsome face and his bright blue eyes twinkled. And Simon fell in love with him all over again.

“I like the sound of that,” Simon told him.

“So I am going to get that giant jacuzzi filling. We’re going to soak in that tub for a while. We’ll have a bite to eat.” Noah sat up, the blanket falling away. “And by then, I’ll have rested long enough that I can get it up again.”

“Yeah?” Simon grinned, tiling his head to look at him.

“Oh yeah.” Noah’s heated gaze trailed across his body and he followed the look with his fingertips, skimming them across Simon’s hip and down his thigh. “And then I’m going to eat you out and fuck you until you come all over my cock.”

Simon shivered. As romantic as Noah could be at times, he also had a filthy mouth. And he always delivered on what he promised.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Mmm.” Noah let out a low, rumbling noise as he looked Simon over. “I noticed a vanity and mirror in the bathroom that reminds me a little of that time on the train.”

Simon’s smile widened. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s what I’ll do then. Fuck you standing up in front of the mirror where I can see every gorgeous inch of you.”

Simon let out a breathless sound and nodded. Maybe it wasn’t going to take him as long as he thought to get hard again. “Yeah, okay,” he managed. “Twist my arm.”

Noah grinned, brushing a lock of his red hair out of his eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Noah stood and held out a hand. Simon took it, allowing Noah to draw him to his feet. But rather than the dirty kiss he’d expected, Noah pulled him into a tight embrace, tucking his mouth against Simon’s ear.

“Whatever we do, I want it to be together,” Noah whispered.

And Simon tightened his grip on Noah because that was what he wanted too. He wanted Noah to have everything. To do everything he’d ever dreamed of. Help as many people as possible. And he wanted to be there right beside him while he did it. Because Noah was right that their relationship had to come first.

“I want that too,” he whispered thickly.

Noah turned his head slightly, capturing Simon’s mouth, and they sealed that promise with a kiss.  

Enjoyed the story? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 9

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

 

THE CHRISTMAS MARKET

 

DAY: 9

CHARACTERS: Gabriel Theriault & Lance Tate

PROMPTS: Christmas Market + A Kiss on the Nose

NOTES: Set one year after Changing the Rules ends.

As Lance strolled beside Gabriel at Le Grand Marché de Noël in Montreal, the snow settling gently around them, he listened to the words flow from Gabriel’s mouth, washing over him without registering. Lance had never dreamed he’d find himself here, sharing a romantic moment with the man he loved.

It was two weeks until Christmas and the Evanston River Otters had squeaked out a miraculous win against the Montreal Lynx last night.

Last week, when Lance had pulled Ken Daniels—the team’s head coach and the man who was, in essence, Lance’s boss—aside and asked if he and Gabriel could fly back to Illinois separately from the team, Daniels had shot him a skeptical look.

Lance suspected that Daniels still didn’t love that his assistant coach and player were dating, or the headaches it caused him. But in the year they’d been together, he’d come to see how good it was for both of them and was as gracious about it as he could be. 

“Look, Gabriel could use the break,” Lance insisted. “This season has been a lot.”

Daniels grunted and reached for his mug. “Tell me about it. I think I have at least three new ulcers.”

“Might want to lay off the coffee then,” Lance shot back.

Daniels had given him an unamused look and took a sip anyway but he’d, grudgingly, agreed to give them a day off during the team’s rare three-day gameless stretch in the middle of December.

Gabriel and Lance would fly home tomorrow morning and would, hopefully, make it in time for afternoon practice. Though, at this point, Lance wasn’t sure if it would matter if they both missed it. The team was a mess this season.

It wasn’t just the tough rebuild the team was dealing with that weighed on Gabriel though.

His father’s declining health took its toll as well. The repeated head trauma that Alain Theriault had suffered in his years as a professional hockey player had led to dementia and eventually Gabriels’ trade from Toronto to the River Otters.

But it was better now that Alain had more stability.

The renovations on the house Lance and Gabriel had bought were done and they’d been settled in for a while now. Better experimental drugs, better nursing care, Lance and Gabriel both there to look out for him … they helped.

The mental deterioration would never completely stop but it had been slowed enough that they were piecing together some semblance of a life for Alain.

The improvement in the relationship Gabriel had with his father had helped Alain and Gabriel both. But Lance knew every trip away from Alain was stressful for Gabriel.

Lance had debated if the extra time away would help or make it worse, but Gabriel had sounded grateful when he’d proposed the trip.

Last night, following the game, they’d had a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant and Gabriel had relaxed enough to allow himself a small glass of wine and a delicious dinner.

After, in the luxe, modern hotel room, they’d made love. Touching, tasting one another. Savoring the time alone.

They’d spent today exploring the city, walking around or hopping on the Metro, stopping occasionally to eat or shop or just rest and take in the sights.

Lance had been to Montreal plenty of times but never like this. He’d never had the time to enjoy it as a tourist. As a player and now a coach, he’d always flown in for a game and then out again. But watching Gabriel show him around a place he loved was something Lance felt keenly appreciative of.

And the Christmas market they were exploring now was magical.

“You are not listening to a word I say, my love,” Gabriel teased, catching Lance’s hand, and tugging on it to get his attention.

Lance turned to look at him, feeling a little sheepish. It was true. He’d heard Gabriel speaking, but the words hadn’t really sunk in once he’d gotten lost in his own thoughts.

But Gabriel’s dark eyes were amused, rather than upset.

“Sorry,” Lance murmured, stepping closer. “Sometimes I get distracted when you look so happy.”

He drank in the sight of Gabriel, still barely able to believe a man so beautiful loved him back.

Unlike when they first met, Gabriel smiled readily now, his brown eyes warm and light.

Tonight, snow had settled on Gabriel's knitted stocking cap and the ends of his long, dark hair. His cheeks were a little red and so was the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, Lance touched his lips to the spot, warming it a little .

When Lance drew back, the look Gabriel gave him was soft. Tender. He reached up to touch his mittened hand to Lance’s cheek, then leaned in, brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss. “I am happy. Thank you for this.”

Gabriel murmured something else in French, too quickly for Lance to understand.

Lance was trying though.

He had a language-learning app on his phone and practiced his French daily. The lessons were geared toward Quebecois rather than Parisian French, but Lance was still unsure of a lot of the slang and often missed some critical detail when the words were spoken quickly.

It didn’t help that Gabriel often spoke it in bed, usually at moments when Lance was very focused on something far more pleasurable than vocabulary.

Still, he could speak little bits of the language. He’d been—awkwardly—trying on this trip and though Gabriel had gently chirped him at times about his pronunciation, he’d looked pleased with Lance’s attempts.

“What did you say just now?” Lance asked. “I heard you say something about love, but the rest went right over my head.”

Gabriel flashed him a teasing grin. “I said it is a good thing I love you or I would be offended that you don’t listen to what I say.”

Lance grinned back. “Tell me again what you were saying earlier when I was lost in thought.”

Gabriel shrugged in that lazy, indolent way of his. “Non. It was just a silly story about one time Noah and I spent a day at the markets here in Montreal. Nothing important.”

But everything Gabriel said was important. Lance wanted to hear it. Remember it.

He wanted Gabriel to know how special he was to Lance. How happy he was that they’d risked everything to be together. How every moment had been worth it.

Lance almost said that aloud, but Gabriel tugged on his hand insistently, pulling him toward a row of small European-style chalets overflowing with wares. “I will tell you later. Come. I want to pick out something for Kisha.”

They did owe Alain’s private, and favorite, nurse something extra this year for all she’d done for them.

So Lance followed, allowing Gabriel to tow him this way and that, as he looked for a gift that would be special enough.

As they browsed, the sky darkened and the colorful string lights glowed, shining on trees and draping overhead, as they strolled through the crowded market hand-in-hand. The night really did feel magical, like something out of a dream.

Their relationship had begun in the midst of so much turmoil that practicality had won out over romance. Worry over Alain’s condition and trying to keep their relationship a secret had meant that their dates were quite nights in.

They hadn’t been able to go on the typical dates that most couples were able to enjoy when they began dating.

Even now that the public knew they were together, they rarely had time for dates.

But this perfect stolen time in the middle of a stressful, tumultuous hockey season would help sustain them when reality intruded again. 

Lance picked up a few things for his daughter and something for his son while they shopped. Gabriel merely smiled when he found a hand-carved wooden Santa that looked like something Lance’s ex-wife would love.

“C’est parfait. Buy it,” Gabriel urged. “Cammie will love it.”

It was perfect for her. She adored anything Santa-related.

Lance smiled, thinking of how well Cammie and Gabriel had gotten along at Thanksgiving this year. Frankly, it had been a little terrifying to see them whispering over their glasses of red wine, conspiring about something as they stared at Lance.

Gabriel had shot him a wink at one point and later, when Lance had asked what that was about, he had only given him an inscrutable little smile.

Maybe someday Lance would know what they had planned.

***

Once Gabriel felt satisfied with the gifts he’d picked out, Lance steered him toward the food stalls.

“Maple syrup-laced hot whiskey, hot chocolate, or mulled wine?” he asked.

Gabriel hummed as he considered his options. “Mulled wine, s’il te plait.”

A few minutes later, he murmured his thanks as he wrapped his palms around the red and white enamel commemorative mug, relishing the heat of the drink, even through his warm mittens.

“Poutine?”

Gabriel scoffed. As if he would want anything else when he was visiting Québec. “Oui,” he said emphatically.

Lance shot him a smile and led him to the stall to place their order.

Gabriel studied Lance as they waited in line. He looked so handsome today in his gray wool jacket and plaid cashmere scarf. So relaxed. This trip had been good for them both.

Lance was everything Gabriel had ever thought to wish for and more.

Gabriel pressed their upper arms together and Lance automatically slid an arm around his waist, holding him close while they waited for their turn. Gabriel softened against him, enjoying the live music in the background, the sounds of his native language filling the air around them.

He loved Evanston, loved the life he had there with Lance and his team, but it settled something in him to be home. To immerse himself in the familiarity of it and to proudly show it off to Lance.

When they reached the front of the line, Lance took a large, steaming container of fries heaped with gravy and melting cheese curds, the scent of it alone making Gabriel’s mouth water.

They stepped out of the crowd’s path to eat, laughing as they tried to avoid making a mess, juggling their warm mugs of wine and bags of gifts as they passed the cardboard container back and forth.

After they were done sharing the more-than-generous serving of poutine, they began walking again.

“I think we’ve seen it all,” Lance said. “And possibly bought it all. Shall we head back to the hotel?”

Gabriel nodded, chuckling as he turned toward one of the exits.

“What is a beaver tail?” Lance asked as they passed another food chalet, nodding toward a sign advertising the treat. “It sounds … suggestive.”

Gabriel laughed and took a final sip of his mulled wine. It was nearly cold now but still delicious. He tucked his empty mug in the bag beside Lance’s. He’d smile every time he opened the cupboard in their kitchen and spotted them nestled in with their other coffee cups. “Beaver tails? They are fried dough with toppings like Nutella or cinnamon sugar.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It is,” Gabriel admitted. “Though if I am craving something sweet, I would choose the maple taffy.” He nodded to the chalet on the other side of the aisle.

Lance peered at it. “Is that …”

“Yes. Come look.” Gabriel led Lance over, shifting until Lance could get a good view.

Snow was spread out on a tray and a man poured dark amber maple syrup across it in a thick line. A moment later he rolled a popsicle stick across the hardening candy, wrapping it around the top of the wooden stick.

“Oh!” Lance looked delighted. “I’ve never seen that before.”

Gabriel smiled. “It was my favorite treat as a child, something my grandparents made after they tapped their maple trees and boiled down the sap into syrup,” he explained.

“I’m sorry I never got to meet them,” Lance said quietly.

Gabriel nodded. He missed them, though he had no idea how they’d feel about his relationship with a man.

“We should each get a maple taffy. Unless you would rather have the beaver tail,” Gabriel said, because he didn’t feel like bringing down the happy mood.

“No, I’d like to try your favorite.”

Gabriel squeezed Lance’s arm, then stepped forward to buy one for each of them. They savored the chewy sweetness as they resumed walking, exiting the main market area onto the city sidewalk. 

“Someday I will take you to my grandparents’ home,” Gabriel said quietly.

“You own it?” Lance asked.

Gabriel nodded. “Oui. A neighbor looks in on it and taps the trees in late winter or early spring when the sap begins to flow. It is most beautiful that time of year, I think.”

He tilted his head back, staring up at the soft flakes of snow still drifting  down. As much as he loved the city, sometimes he missed the cold, crisp air in the Quebec woods laced with smoke from the large open fires and with the sweetness of maple hanging over everything as the sap boiled in giant cauldrons.

When Gabriel lowered his head, Lance cupped his cheek and leaned in, murmuring, “Je t’aime pour toujours.”

Gabriel pressed their foreheads together. Something in his chest felt bruised and tender at Lance’s promise to love him forever.

The effort to learn Gabriel’s language was a large part of it. It filled a piece of Gabriel’s heart that he hadn’t known needed filling.

But that promise of forever … that was what Gabriel truly treasured.

For so long, Gabriel had believed he didn’t deserve that forever. Believed he wasn’t the sort of man who could promise that to anyone and mean it.

He’d never trusted anyone else when they said it to him either. The ever-present fear that Gabriel had about becoming like his father, of repeated head trauma robbing him of his memories, had made him doubt that promise.

Who would stay with him if his mind began to fail like Alain’s?

Lance would.

Gabriel knew that now. He did everything he could to prevent Lance from ever having to take care of him that way, but he knew now what that promise meant.  How binding it was.

Heart pounding, Gabriel pulled away and set his bag of gifts on the sidewalk. Lance gave him a puzzled look as he fumbled in his coat pocket for the small velvet box he’d tucked in there earlier.

He hadn’t planned to propose tonight. When he’d spoken to Cammie about it at Thanksgiving, he’d been planning it for Christmas Eve.

But, for some reason, he’d slipped the box into his suitcase when he packed for the trip and brought it with him today.

Maybe Gabriel had planned it, without realizing.

Lance stared at him, his clear blue eyes filled with love and surprise, as Gabriel suddenly lowered to one knee.

“Lance, will you begin that forever with me now?” Gabriel asked, heart in his throat.

Lance nodded, croaking out a stuttered, “Oui,” that was the most beautiful sound Gabriel had ever heard.

Gabriel stood and slipped the cool metal band onto Lance’s outstretched finger, barely noticing the people clapping and calling out their congratulations.

Snow settled over them as they kissed on the crowded sidewalk in Montreal, and Gabriel was at peace.

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CHRISTMAS FALLS IS COMPLETE

"I don't want to leave Christmas Falls yet! This world was artistically crafted, full of extraordinary detail, and the way it was written made me wish Christmas Falls was a real place. If it was I would be planning a trip right away!!

I am sad to see this series end, but I loved every minute of being immersed in Christmas Falls' charm. I highly recommend you to not only read this book, but to go get the other books in this series. I promise, they won't disappoint."

- AMAZON REVIEW

All nine books in the Christmas Falls world are live and readers are loving them. Now is the perfect time to curl up with something warm and cozy to drink while you binge-read all of the stories!

Have you read them all yet?

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 8

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

O Christmas Tree

DAY: 8

CHARACTERS: Forrest Patton & Jarod Keener

PROMPTS: O Christmas Tree + Holiday Party

NOTES: This is set a year after the events of ,Embracing His Shame. This one is spicy, so be warned. D/s dynamics are at the forefront and the couple discuss limits. Features orgasm denial, plugs, cock cages, and some (mild) humiliation.

 

“Is that … Christmas tree shaped?” Forrest eyed the item that rested in Jarod’s palm.

He grinned wolfishly, enjoying the way his boyfriend/sub squirmed at the sight of the toy. “Yup.”

Forrest eyed the green silicone butt plug, expression apprehensive. “Very festive.”

“Thought you’d like it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Jarod’s grin just widened. “Bend over and you can find out.”

“You want me to wear that to the Christmas party tonight?”

Jarod frowned, confused and a little concerned by how horrified Forrest looked. “You’ve worn plugs and vibrators and cock cages in public before. Hell, you wore a cage the first time you met my Momma.”

Forrest swallowed noisily. “I did.”

“Boy, if you don’t want this, you use your safeword,” Jarod reminded him. “And it’s off the table for the night.”

Forrest nodded. “I know. I want it. I just …”

Jarod set the toy on the nearby dresser and gripped Forrest’s hips, pulling him closer. “Hey, what’s wrong? You usually love this shit.”

“I do.” Forrest bit his lip. “But this is …”

“You were the one who suggested it to me.”

More often than not, Jarod was the one who thought up the devious—and often humiliating—tasks for his sub. For the man he loved. But sometimes Forrest had an idea and Jarod had no problem if he brought it to him.

Respectfully, of course.

Jarod usually said yes, then put a creative twist on the suggestion, just to keep Forrest on his toes. But swapping out their typical plug for something festive shouldn’t make Forrest look worried like that. Something was up and Jarod was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He snickered internally at the pun, but didn’t repeat it aloud. He wasn’t an asshole.

Well, no, he was definitely an asshole. But he was exactly the kind of asshole Forrest liked and making a joke would be crossing the line when Forrest was so clearly twisted up for some reason.

“I know I suggested this.” Forrest grimaced. “And at the time, I wanted to be plugged for the party. It makes me feel so … dirty. In a good way. But I’m having second thoughts.”

Jarod sobered, pulling Forrest over to the bed. “Hey, talk to me,” he said sternly.

Forrest swallowed again, looking down at where Jarod gripped him firmly. Jarod glanced down too. His hands were big and rough. Tattooed. Beat up from working on cars all day. So different from Forrest’s slender fingers, smooth and white from working in his accounting office.

Jarod loved that on the surface they looked so different. That they looked like they didn’t belong together. Because after a year and a half together, Jarod had never been surer of anything than he was that Forrest was made for him.

And vice versa.

“Hey, look at me,” Jarod coaxed.

Forrest glanced up, his large, deep brown eyes filled with the kind of apprehension Jarod rarely saw from him.

“I’mafraidI’mgoingtocomeinmypants.”

The word came out in one messy rush of sound and Jarod quirked an eyebrow at him. “Say it again, boy. Slower this time.”

Forrest pulled in a deep breath. “You’ve been edging me all week and I love it, but I’ve gotten close several times. I’m just afraid if I spend all night at this party even more on edge, you’re going to tease me and torment me and I’m going to love it so much that I come in my pants.”

Oh. Oh, it made sense now. Jarod had been feeling particularly sadistic all week.

He’d already been pushing Forrest to the edge then easing him back. Over and over. Forrest had been appealingly flushed and wound tight for days now.

But Jarod could also see the fear and apprehension in Forrest’s eyes. Which … that was complicated. Because sometimes making Forrest afraid was the whole point. What they both loved.

There was good, honest fear that they both thrived on. And then there was this. And this wasn’t good.

Forrest’s eyes weren’t sparkling, his body wasn’t vibrating with barely suppressed need. He was hunched in on himself, anxious. After all this time, Jarod knew Forrest’s tells.

And everything was telling him that pushing this was a bad idea.

“Okay,” Jarod said slowly, trying to carefully pick his way through this potential minefield. “We can have a vanilla night, if that’s what you want.”

“But it’s not what I want.” Forrest glanced up. “I don’t want a vanilla night. I just don’t want this to tip over from the thrill of being possibly being humiliated to actually humiliating myself by coming in my pants like a teenage boy in front of our friends.”

Jarod nodded. “I get that. How about this? What if I put a cage on you?”

“I thought about that,” Forrest admitted. “But all of the orgasm training we’ve been doing, the edging, I’m afraid I’ll come anyway.”

“Fuck, that would be hot.”

A flash of hurt crossed Forrest’s face and Jarod cursed himself for being such an idiot.

“I don’t mean makin' you come in your pants at a vanilla event and actually embarrassing you.” He reached up and gently cupped Forrest’s cheek. “But I do wanna to play around with that sometime. See if I can make you come while you’re still soft because of the cage.”

“Oh.” Forrest let out a soft, startled noise.

“Do you like that thought?” Jarod teased, sliding a little closer and brushing his thumb across Forrest’s lower lip. He opened automatically, lips parting.

What a good little slut he is, Jarod thought, affection washing over him.

This was the good stuff. This was what he’d dreamed about for so many years. Having a submissive who was trained just to his liking. Having a submissive who enjoyed every second of this, who wanted this too. And who, best of all, was strong enough to tell Jarod no. Who would tell Jarod when his limits had been reached.

They walked a fine line together. But this was the purest, rawest sort of love Jarod had ever had. And every day he felt grateful for it.

“Someday,” Jarod whispered, leaning in. “Someday I’ll plug you, boy. I’ll cage your dick and play with you. I’ll make you burn with it until you come, cock aching, unable to get hard. And I’ll do it again. And again. Until you beg me to stop.”

Forrest dragged in a shaky breath. “I’d love that, Boss.”

It made Jarod smile whenever Forrest called him that. Forrest wasn’t his employee. Never really had been, aside from some accounting work he’d done in exchange for some humiliation.

But he wasn’t much for calling a Dom ‘Sir,’ and ‘Boss’ suited Jarod just fine.

“Now, about tonight,” Jarod said, because he needed to figure this out. “I want you to wear the plug and a cock cage.”

Forrest opened his mouth to argue, but Jarod held up a hand so he fell silent. “You’re gonna stick by my side all night.”

“That’s going to make me less turned on?” Forrest asked, his tone doubtful.

Jarod grinned, grabbing a handful of Forrest’s hair. “Don’t sass me.”

“Sorry, Boss.” Forrest looked mostly contrite.

“You’re gonna stick by my side. And when you feel yourself gettin’ close, you’re gonna squeeze my arm twice. If it gets urgent, you’re gonna squeeze it once, real hard.”

Forrest drew in a trembling breath. “I can do that. But I’m still worried I’m going to misjudge.”

“I have faith in you,” Jarod said.

An appealing little pink flush spread across Forrest’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

“But if we get separated or somethin’ comes up and you can’t stop yourself from coming, you take off your coat and hold it in front of your dick.”

Forrest nodded reluctantly, as Jarod continued.

“Then you go into the bathroom and lock yourself in there. You text me and I’ll get a change of clothes that we have stashed in my truck. We’ll pretend you spilled a drink on you or something.”

“Oh.” Forrest let out a relieved-sounding sigh. “That … that could work.”

“You know I’ll take care of you,” Jarod whispered. “Don’t you, boy?”

“Yes. Yes, Boss. I know that.”

Jarod leaned in. “I want you to know how proud I am of you. Of the way you came to me with your worries.”

Negotiations were Forrest’s least favorite part about being a submissive. It was why he’d marched into Jarod’s auto body shop with a written checklist of hard and soft limits over a year and a half ago.

Jarod had been shocked but intrigued by Forrest’s offer. They’d run into some stumbling blocks since then but now that they were through the other side, things were pretty damn good. But discussions like this were still tough for Forrest and Jarod was proud of him.

Forrest nodded, wide-eyed and earnest. “Thank you, Boss.”

Jarod straightened, making his voice sterner. “Now, do you feel good about our plan? The plug is just a plug. It doesn’t vibrate. I’m not gonna torture you. Much. At least not until we get home.” He winked and watched the tension slide from Forrest’s shoulders.

“Sounds good, Boss.” Forrest said, though he hesitated, looking like he wanted to continue.

“Spit it out, boy.”

“Am I allowed to come or not?”

Jarod sucked in a sharp breath. That was the question, wasn’t it? Forrest wasn’t like some subs who wanted nothing more than to please their Dom. Oh, he loved Jarod and wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t get his own gratification from mindlessly obeying the way some subs did.

Jarod had forbidden Forrest from coming all week, knowing it was more about the lack of control than anything.

But tonight? Well, that was tricky.

“You’re allowed to come at the party, if you have no other choice,” Jarod finally said. “But if you please me by followin’ my orders and not coming, I’ll make it worth your while after.”

Forrest closed his eyes, thick lashes fluttering against his cheeks for a few minutes as he took a deep breath. “Yes, Boss.”

***

Forrest floated through the party at the Hawk Point Tavern on a haze of arousal. His brain simmered with need, his body was strung tight. Every tiny nudge of the plug as he walked sent a sharp spike of desire straight to his core.

He talked to people, saying things that made them laugh.

He tasted food and greeted friends.

The whole time he felt flushed and overheated, wanting to rip off his bow tie and jacket. They had never felt so constricting before.

All the while, his cock was tucked into a discreet cage, limp and aching under the fly of his wool trousers.

He teetered on the verge of what could be the most astounding orgasm he might ever have as he made small talk and nodded along to people telling stories.

Several local members of the kink community were at the party and Forrest caught a few knowing looks from them.

He saw their smirks and flushed more.

They could tell that something was up tonight, even if the vanilla people there couldn’t.

Forrest suddenly wondered if the other subs he saw were equally trussed up at the moment.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one in this predicament, but he couldn’t focus long enough to figure it out.

Forrest had tried to stay close to Jarod, but he had been a bit distracted. Suddenly feeling lost, he glanced across the table laden with holiday appetizers to look for Jarod and spotted him talking with his cousin, Grant, and Grant’s partners, Reeve and Rachael.

Forrest shivered at the sight of his Dom. At the breadth of his shoulders, the ink crawling up his forearms, the way he held himself.

The shiver made Forrest clench tighter and he almost wept at the throb that went through his groin, the tightening of muscles forcing him to breathe or else spill messily into his underwear.

As if he could sense it from half a room away, Jarod glanced over from the conversation he’d been having. He took one look at Forrest and strode over, not even taking the time to apologize or excuse himself.

That was Jarod though, Forrest thought dazedly. He cared little for social niceties or whatever anyone thought of him.

He cared about Forrest though.

Jarod held out his forearm. “Are you okay?”

Forrest gripped it, squeezing twice.

Jarod’s gaze bored into Forrest’s and he nodded as if confirming something to himself. “I think I’m gettin’ a bit tired. We’ve made the rounds. What do you say we head out?”

“Uhh. That would be good.” Forrest licked his lips. “Not sure I’m in any state to say goodbye to people though.”

Jarod shrugged. “Then we’ll leave without saying goodbye.”

That wasn’t something Forrest would normally do, but he nodded and Jarod wrapped an arm around him, steering him toward the door.

He allowed Jarod to drape his leather jacket around his shoulders and breathed in the mingled scent of the fabric and Jarod’s cologne. It didn’t make him any less aroused but it did ground him.

It wasn’t until Forrest was in Jarod’s truck that he let out a shuddering sigh.

Jarod turned to him immediately. “How close are you?”

“Close,” Forrest croaked. “I …”

“Hold it,” Jarod said firmly. He cranked the key in the ignition and the truck leapt forward.

When Forrest’s window slid down, he gulped in the cool air gratefully, thankful Jarod knew exactly what he needed. Every jolt of the truck sent a zing of pleasure through Forrest though and he whimpered.

“Breathe,” Jarod instructed.

Forrest placed his sweaty palms on his thighs and closed his eyes, doing as he was told.

He was trembling and flushed by the time they reached home and he barely registered Jarod getting him inside the house, aware of little else but the need growing inside him.

As he stood in the living room and let Jarod quickly strip him of his clothing, Forrest’s heart beat so fast in his chest he thought it might break one of his ribs.

“Do you want to come in the cage or out of it?” Jarod asked, pressing his thumbs into Forrest’s hip bones, making him bite his cheek because even that much stimulation was almost too much.

“Out,” Forrest said, whimpering a little. He was so close.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Jarod soothed. 

Forrest trembled as Jarod knelt and unlocked the cage, tossing it aside. The rush of blood to Forrest’s aching dick hit so fast and hard that he swayed on his feet.

Jarod wrapped an arm around his hips and pressed the plug in hard and deep, his lips closing around Forrest’s cock.

Pleasure streaked through Forrest and he was coming before Jarod bottomed out, big rolling waves of sharply intense sensation like he’d never felt before.

He came and came and came, trembling and aching, crying out at the intense pleasure-pain of it all. He sobbed his way through the orgasm, barely able to process what was happening.

His knees went weak and his head swam, and then everything went gray.

When Forrest blinked his eyes open, he was horizontal on the sofa, a blanket tucked around him. Their actual Christmas tree glowed in the background as Jarod stared down at him, brow furrowed.

“There you are,” Jarod said, expression lightening with relief. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

Forrest licked his lips, still dazed. “Holy shit. That was …”

Jarod looked down at him with something like wonder on his face. “I’ve never seen you come like that before.”

“I’ve never—” His voice broke.

“You need some water?” Jarod asked.

Forrest nodded.

He shivered a little when Jarod left but he was back in moments, helping Forrest sit up and pressing a glass to his lower lip. “Drink up.”

Forrest did it, gratefully.

He’d never been much of one for aftercare but he felt the need keenly now, letting Jarod pull him close and stroke his hair. Easing him down.

“You didn’t come,” Forrest said, lifting his head when he felt better. “I … you didn’t come, Boss.”

“Not yet.” Jarod smirked at him.

“Oh.” Forrest felt a flutter of anticipation in his belly. “Yeah?”

The dark laugh Jarod let out made Forrest clench and he realized the plug was still inside him.

God, had he really celebrated the holiday with all his friends and neighbors while a Christmas tree was stuffed up his ass?

Forrest stifled a giggle at the thought.

Jarod rubbed a thumb across Forrest’s lower lip and he relaxed his jaw, letting Jarod push inside.

“Told you I’d make tonight worth it,” Jarod said in a low, husky voice. “And the night is just beginning.”

In the future, Forrest might not remember much about the Christmas party they’d attended. But he had a feeling he’d never forget what came after. 

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THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - DAY 7

To celebrate my 10 year publishing anniversary I'll be posting one short story per day here on my blog from December 13-24th.

Every day will feature a different couple and the stories will vary in length. They'll range from sweet to a little bit spicy and hopefully will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm feeling of holiday cheer in your heart.

Thank you for ten wonderful years!

UGLY SWEATER PARTY

 

DAY: 7

CHARACTERS: Russ Bishop & Stephen Parker + Austin Parker-Bishop

PROMPTS: Ugly Sweater Party + Secret Santa Gift Exchange

NOTES: This is set in the time between the final chapter and the epilogue of Full-Balance.

 

“You look very festive today, Mr. Parker.” Russ flicked the white pom-pom on the end of Santa’s hat, just below his husband’s right nipple.

Stephen looked down and made a face at the ugly Christmas sweater he wore. “I know I used to complain about the holiday parties we had before, but they just keep getting worse every year!”

“Shh. Don’t let the organizers hear you say that,” Russ whispered, smoothing a hand over the fuzzy candy cane on his own sweater. “Especially Sherri.”

Stephen chuckled.

Ugly sweater or not, Stephen was a handsome man. Still as much of a silver fox as ever. And really, everyone looked hideously festive at the moment.

When Stephen and Russ had first met, Vantage Marketing—the company they both worked for—had hosted lavish holiday parties at a swanky hotel downtown on weekend evenings.

The upscale parties had now become office parties held in the afternoon on a business day and, this year, involved ugly sweaters.

Privately, Russ agreed with his husband. This was a serious downgrade.

“I thought you were the one in charge of the budget anyway,” Russ teased. Stephen was the chief financial officer of the company.

He snorted. “One would think so. But the board is ‘looking to trim waste’ so …”

Russ held up his plastic cup of too-sweet punch. “Well, here’s to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“And potlucks.” Stephen touched their cups together.

“Hey, I thought the apple-gouda pigs in a blanket appetizer we brought was delicious,” he protested.

“It was. And I suppose the hotel dinners were never anything to rave about anyway.” Stephen sighed. “Maybe I’m getting nostalgic in my old age.”

“Maybe we should have a night out soon,” Russ suggested. “Just the two of us. Get all dressed up. Have a nice dinner. Enjoy a few drinks …”

“That sounds nice,” Stephen said.

Russ pulled out his phone. “Let me see what’s on the calendar in the next few weeks.”

“Too much,” Stephen said, sighing again. “I swear, Austin is going in a least a dozen directions every day.”

“At least he can drive now,” Russ pointed out. “We don’t have to ferry him around anymore.”

“True.” Stephen rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe that’s what’s making me feel old.”

Russ grinned. Their adopted son Austin had been thirteen when he’d come to live with them as a foster kid. But he was seventeen now. Able to drive. Applying to colleges … Suddenly, Stephen wasn’t the only one feeling old.

“I just don’t want to miss one of his school events,” Russ said, squinting at his digital calendar.

“No, I don’t either. Let me know what date you come up with.” Stephen pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to go ask Peter something.”

Distracted, Russ waved vaguely. “Shit. At this rate, I might need a whiteboard and the ability to bend space and time to find a free night this month,” he muttered to himself.

“I still think it’s cheating,” Sherri said.

Russ lifted his head to look at his coworker. “Huh? What is?”

“That you and Stephen got each other in the secret Santa gift exchange.”

Russ laughed. “Well, we certainly didn’t rig it. You were the one who organized it, after all.”

“Oh, I know. It just seems like it's easier if you’re married to the person. I got the new girl from the mailroom who I’ve only met once before.”

“I guess.” Ross replied, distracted by his phone. Shrugging, he admitted defeat on finding a free day. It was going to take more than a casual perusal of his calendar.

“What did he get you?” Sherri peered at the gift box beside him.

“A tie.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “That’s not very exciting.”

On the surface, maybe not. Although it was a lovely tie.

But knowing Stephen, it wasn’t just about the look of it. They dabbled in a few kinky things from time to time and Russ would bet Stephen had plans to tie him to the headboard with the aforementioned lovely cranberry-red silk.

Stephen had gone to rather elaborate lengths this year and created a DIY Advent calendar filled with fun little toys. So far, Russ had opened a bottle of luxe massage oil, a ribbed stroker, a set of cock rings, a tingly minty balm, and a prostate massager.

Russ got hot under the collar just thinking about trying them all out.

When they were going to use all this remained to be seen, however.

***

“A week away together … Stephen …” Russ’s voice went soft. “How long have you been planning this?”

Grinning, Stephen leaned forward and brushed his lips across Russ’s. “Oh, since about August.”

It hadn’t been easy waiting until Christmas morning for Russ to unwrap the final gift.

Stephen had thoroughly enjoyed picking out the twenty-four smaller gifts that Russ had been opening every day since December 1st. But this was the cherry on the already delicious sundae.

The couples-only tropical resort got rave reviews. They’d be able to swim, relax in the sun, and enjoy cocktails to their heart’s content. Of course, that was if they managed to leave their hotel room while they tried everything else Stephen had purchased.

But it was the time alone with his husband that Stephen was most looking forward to. As much as they both loved Austin, it was nice to get away when they were able.

Nice to spend some quality adult time together.

Stephen could just picture the gauzy curtains blowing in the warm breeze, Russ deliciously stretched out on a big bed, tied to the posts with that cranberry-red silk tie while Stephen teased and tormented him …

He shivered and Russ must have caught something in his gaze because he smirked at Stephen. “So, when are we going?”

“I finagled some things with Peter to make sure you could take the third week in January off work.”

“Well planned,” Russ said. “It does come in handy that you’re such good friends with my boss.”

Stephen smirked back, proud of himself.  

“What are we doing with him?” Russ asked, tilting his head in Austin’s direction. “Because I’m not leaving a seventeen-year-old home alone for a week. Even if he is the best kid in the world.”

Austin—who’d had his nose buried in his phone for the past half hour—finally looked their way, grinning. “Do I want to know what you have planned for this vacation?”

“Nope,” Stephen said.

“Got it.” He set his phone aside. “And I’m hanging out with Evan and Jeremy. Duh.”

They were some of Russ and Stephen’s closest friends and always happy to have Austin around, so they had eagerly agreed to let Austin stay with them for the week.

“Do they know that?” Russ asked, clearly amused by their son.

“Yes! Dad and I planned it with them already!” Austin protested.

“Well, that was nice of them,” Russ said with a smile.

“Evan, Jeremy, Dad, and I are all very thoughtful,” Austin said.

Russ stood, ruffling a hand through Austin’s red hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You are. And I love all of the gifts. Including the vacation. Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome, Other Dad.”

Stephen chuckled. Poor Russ. He’d lobbied hard to be called Papa or Father or Pops or anything but Other Dad.

But Other Dad had stuck.

“Now, who’s helping me clean up this mess?” Russ asked, bending down to scoop some gold star-patterned wrapping paper off the floor.

“Not it!” Austin hollered.

Russ playfully batted it in his direction. “Nice try.”

“Well, you asked,” Austin insisted, picking up the paper. 

“That was my first mistake,” Russ teased.

Stephen laughed and stood, reaching for the red and gold bows scattered across the floor.

“Hey, you didn’t get much this year,” Austin protested, looking at Russ. “I mean, everything I bought you was pretty small and Dad just got you the trip.”

“Well, I love everything you gave me and it’s a very generous trip,” Russ pointed out, hooking an arm around Austin’s neck and kissing the side of his head. “Plus, don’t forget that red tie he got me in the secret Santa exchange at work.”

“True. But that’s boring.” Austin squirmed away.

“Hmm. I might still have a few more stocking stuffers stashed away somewhere,” Stephen said, smirking at Russ. “I’ll have to check later.”

“Don’t forget the Advent calendar,” Russ shot back. “You gave me that.”

“Oh, I never got to see that,” Austin said. “What was in it?”

Stephen stifled a laugh. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

“Oh. Eww.” Austin wrinkled his nose. “Gross. I thought you meant chocolates or something fun like that.”

“It’ll definitely be fun,” Russ said, eyes twinkling.

This time, Austin was the one who threw the wrapping paper.

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