ChristmasInHisHeart (15 page)
Xander held up the sealed foil container and sniffed it. “Mmm. I’m going to guess…Turkey? You made turkey?”
Dermot nodded sheepishly. “It’s a traditional Christmas dinner, turkey and sweet potatoes, green bean casserole. The only thing you don’t have is cranberries, because… Well, they’re on the tree.”
“S’okay,” Xander mumbled, pulling the lid off the dish and inhaling deeply again. “Cranberries are overrated.” He snatched the fork from the box and dug in.
Dermot watched happily for a few minutes, but eventually his lover slowed down with the shoveling of food and the dramatic noises of appreciation. “I’m glad you like it.”
Xander dabbed the napkin at his lips and set the plate down. “So…why a fire truck?”
Zing. Straight to the heart of the matter. Dermot had fully intended to have this conversation but he still found himself ill-prepared when it came to getting the right words out. “I…don’t like Christmas lights.”
“I know. I’m really sorry about the way the party turned out.”
“What you don’t know is why. About thirteen years ago, I was coming home from college for the Christmas holidays. I didn’t even want to go. My parents said I’d have to do a few years of college, get a degree in something before they’d pay for culinary school. I agreed, on the condition that they’d tack on a year of food travel.”
“I didn’t know you’d gotten a degree. In what?”
Dermot blinked, thrown off track. “Um…history. But that doesn’t matter. This particular Christmas, I was on my way home and got a flat tire. It took hours in the snow and cold to change and get back on the road.”
Xander caught his hand and squeezed, and that was when Dermot realized his voice was shaking and wet tears were trailing down his cheeks. “It’s okay. I think you told me… You don’t have to go on, sweetheart, I understand.”
“No.” He shook his head, dashed the tears from his cheeks with one hand. “I do. That’s probably a big part of it. I never talk about it.” He breathed shakily for a minute or two while Xander waited.
“Take your time, Dermot.”
“By the time I got there, the house was gone. Burned to the ground. My mom and dad were standing there, under the neighbor’s oak tree, crying and white-faced. Bryan wasn’t there.”
“He died in the fire, you said.”
Dermot nodded. “Yeah. He was trapped by a falling beam.” In his mind, he could still picture it. His life hadn’t been the same since. “He was eighteen. Had the whole world ahead of him. Graduating that year…joining the Navy. And all because of the stupid Christmas light display they just
had
to have.”
“That’s why…” Dermot heard Xander’s painful swallow. He felt that jagged lump in his throat too.
“Yeah. It was the beginning of the end. Divorce, alcoholism…the loss was too much for all of us, and we each dealt with it in our own way. Five years later, I’d just finished that tour of Europe, and I got the word. My mom had found her own way out. Surprisingly, the insurance paid out. They said because she'd had the policy for over twenty years. I used the money to pay for the restaurant setup, and here we are.” He looked up shyly. “You gave me back Christmas, and I love you but not for that alone.”
“Indeed, we are.” Xander went up on his knees and kissed Dermot tenderly. “I don’t need electric lights for Christmas, Dermot. I just need you next to me under that tree.”
Epilogue
Xander ran his hands along the wall of the dark kitchen, looking for a light switch.
“Oomph…” All the air left his lungs as he ran into one of the stainless steel counters. His momentum folding his upper body over the cold surface with his ass jutting up in the air behind him.
Oh shit.
That was all his mind needed to take the idea and run. Suddenly his sexy boyfriend was flicking the lights on and admiring Xander’s handy position. It didn’t take Dermot long to yank the ‘whip me now, Santa’ boxers down and plunge his face between Xander’s ass cheeks.
Xander squirmed, reaching out for something solid on the table to hold onto while his mind exploded from the sensational rimming his lover forced on him.
A metal bang brought Xander back from his almost orgasmic thoughts.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he hurried to the other wall and finally found the light switch. Flipping it up, he saw the culprit for the loud, obnoxious noise that pulled him from his fantasy. He must’ve punched the huge soup pot off the counter while allowing his imagination to get carried away on him.
A squeak sounded from the door that led to the stairs to Dermot’s apartment. Another one followed the first, and Xander could literally follow each simple noise until Dermot hurried through the door while tightening his flannel robe.
“What the hell is going on down here?”
Dermot’s sleepy/crazed look scanned the kitchen before it landed on Xander and softened. The corner of his mouth tilted up as if he fought the smile Xander had come to expect whenever his boyfriend looked at him.
“And what, pray tell, are you doing down here in the middle of the night?”
“Um…I got hungry?” Xander quickly crossed the room again to pick up the pot still rolling back and forth on its side.
“I have a stocked kitchen in my apartment.” Dermot crossed his arms and pointed out the obvious.
“Yeah, but I’ve never been in a real restaurant’s kitchen after hours before. This is really kinda cool.” Xander couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for the simplicity of the situation. “And…did you know I’ve had some pretty hot and bothered fantasies that include you and me and this kitchen and a spatula.” He waggled his brows as he slowly stalked across the floor to Dermot.
It was comical the way Dermot’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “You mean”—he pointed to himself then to Xander—“here?”
Nodding in confirmation, Xander pointed to the stainless steel table. “And there”—then to the big basin sinks with the spray nozzle hanging above—“and definitely there.” Xander popped the elastic on his boxers. “Oh yeah. Come on, Dermot.”
Dermot did a double take of Xander’s Christmas BDSM themed boxers before shaking his head in response to Xander’s query. “No, just no. Do you even know the types of health code violations you’re suggesting? They’d close me down…and I could never use the spatula in a kitchen again.”
Xander bit his lip to stop his laughter. “Yes, but you could use it in the bedroom forever and ever amen.” Turning on the full wattage smile, knowing that his lover would never give in but enjoying himself anyway, he tried a different tactic. “What if we just start down here but finish upstairs? Come on, that’s gotta be allowed, right?”
“We are supposed to be up in less than four hours to start preparations for the annual Post-Christmas party thrown for the business owners and staff. This is the first year I’ve ever participated and I want to make a good impression.” Dermot held his hand out. “Come on, baby, come back to bed?”
“Rock my world and I’ll help out, too.”
Dermot snorted. “You were going to help anyway, and you are not cooking.”
“Okay…make my fantasies come true, and I’ll help Sprocket prep everything so Chaz can help you cook and that will give us an extra hour in bed this morning.”
“You’ll be lucky if I let you wash the dishes afterward. Remember, I’ve seen you in a kitchen.”
“Hey!” Xander threw his hand over his heart, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “Yeah, that’s fair. Fine, I’ll attempt to fumble my way through the prep work with Sprocket. Whatcha say?”
Dermot undid the belt on his robe and let it hang open around him in all his glory. The man could say no, but his beautiful body wasn’t heeding his own words. “Follow me up to the bedroom, and I’ll do more than rock your world and fulfill your fantasies.”
Xander stared and drooled as his boyfriend turned away and headed out the kitchen door toward the stairs. Before he was completely out of sight, he looked over his shoulder and winked. “Bring the spatula…and the silicone-coated tongs.”
The End
We thank you for reading
Christmas in His Heart
– Lee Brazil and Havan Fellows's first Christmas collaboration together. We had a terrific time crafting this story for you and hope you enjoyed feasting on it just as much. As with all authors, we depend on the power of word of mouth to bring new readers our way that hopefully will enjoy our fares as much as you have. That being said, we'd be honored if you'd perhaps post an honest review for
Christmas in His Heart
on your preferred site—Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, B&N, All Romance e-books, etc...as you can see, we aren't picky. :)
Thank you again for taking a break from your busy schedule to spend with us. We love the company and hope you come back soon.
If you haven't completely quenched your
"holiday reading"
thirst, you might want to check out some of our other seasonal options...we promise they are good all year round.
By Design
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These 3 super short m/m Christmas stories are written from reader suggested prompts.
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Melting Jack Frost
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Melting Jack Frost
When Jack Frost is not happy that means no white Christmas for anyone. Parker Pendle, Jack's lover and Santa's head elf, is determined to put the snowflakes back in the air, and more importantly, back in his lover's eyes.
Meds N' Mistletoe
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When you step through the doors of the Sanctuary, your desires are never truly hidden. Brant learns this lesson when the sexy man in the corner decides to be his personal secret Santa and prove he can satisfy those secret needs.
Caution:
These are "flash" short stories to give you a sexy serving of holiday cheer—Story Orgy style. Please understand they are each under five thousand words... just a bit of a nibble and jingle of holiday goodness.
Cranberry Pi
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As if starting a new job, picking up the reins of a disorganized former colleague, and moving back in with his parents while he saves for a down payment on a house of his own isn't enough, Cecil Trace has just discovered that part of the Art Director's job at the exclusive Linwood Academy is putting on a series of holiday pageants…with the first one celebrating Thanksgiving just three short weeks away.
He's got enough on his hands getting reluctant students ready to wow their parents and the community with their brilliance, and preparing a holiday showing of his own artwork at a local gallery, he doesn't need recalcitrant but brilliant math instructor Reese Cavelli arguing about every little detail.
While Reese understands the new Art Director's urgency, he can't allow Cecil to undermine his authority with the students. Reese can't help being an ass to the new art director, and he knows in part his behavior is due to his own insecurities, but it's also got a lot to do with the fact that the vibrant young artist is so damned sexy in his jeans and bohemian shirts. Every time he comes into contact with Cecil Trace, he finds himself tongue-tied and brusque, unable to think of anything to say that doesn't come out wrong.
Trace of Christmas Spirit
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Since his brother's death, Camden’s yearly road trip to celebrate Christmas with his parents has turned to nothing more than drudgery. With his holiday spirit gone, this is the last year he will subject himself to their narrow-minded views on his life.
But Cam’s world takes a left turn when he gets snowed-in with the eccentric and way-too-jolly Trace. Maybe…just maybe spirits can be revived and the joy of Christmas reclaimed.
This book was originally published December 2011 in the anthology
And The Prompt Is...Holiday Edition with the Story Orgy
. Though the base story remains intact, it has been edited again, enhanced from its original version. I hope you enjoy this new version and thank you.
The Interview
Lee Brazil
Previously published. Newly re-edited without significant changes to the story line.
When Ben learns Cris’s business travel means his lover will be gone for the holidays, he begins to rethink their relationship. Ben's family steps in to keep him busy, but does he dare ask Cris to put him before the job?
