Vic groaned. Every year, the company threw aparty for its employees the Saturday before Christmas. They sparedno expense—glazed hams and roasted turkey were carved to order, andall the traditional side dishes were there, cornbread stuffing andcranberry sauce and sweet potato casseroles. Wine and beer pouredfreely, and holiday classics played over the loudspeaker. Employeesbrought their families, and the kids vied for a spot in line to siton Santa’s lap.
A few years back, the guy usually hired toplay Santa fell through, and Morrison asked Vic to step in. It’dbeen fun, he couldn’t deny it, but it wasn’t exactly something Vicwanted to do again. With his muscled physique, multiple piercings,and penchant for tattoos, he thought he made a pretty scary Santa,though no one else seemed to mind. And it got him a whole week offat the holiday, for helping Morrison out of a bind.
Somehow Vic suspected he wouldn’t be quite solucky this time.
“You want me to dress up this year,too,” Vic muttered.
It wasn’t a question, but Morrison noddedanyway. “You fit the suit,” he pointed out. “The kids loved you.Hell, don’t tell me it wasn’t a blast.”
Vic pressed his lips together until theyalmost disappeared to keep from saying something he mightregret…like ‘no.’ This was his boss, and if Morrison wanted him toplay Santa, Vic would dress up like that jolly old elf or risk hisjob. It wasn’t that hard a decision to make, really.
But Morrison pretended as if Vic had achoice. “Could you maybe do it again?” he asked, giving Vic thesame hound-dog expression Sadie used on Matt whenever she wanted atreat. “It’s just one night, you know? I’ll…I don’t know, I’lldouble your Christmas bonus, how’s that?”
Actually, that sounded pretty sweet. GivenVic’s tenure with the company, his bonus was already a nice chunkof change, and to double it…put that into savings, and he and Mattmight have to start getting serious about buying a house.
“What do you say?” Morrison asked.
“Double my usual bonus?” Vic wanted toclarify.
Morrison nodded. “The party’s Saturday. Howabout it?”
Vic shrugged. “All right. When should I pickup the suit?”
“Right now.” Morrison nodded past Vic, whoturned and saw the familiar red suit trimmed with white fur hangingin a plastic dry cleaning bag behind the office door. “You know, Ithink red’s your color.”
Vic groaned as he reached for the bag.Think about the bonus money, he reminded himself. A nicelittle house, a yard for the dog…Matt will be happy.
And when Matt was happy, Vic was happy. Evenif he had to dress up as ol’ Kris Kringle in the process.
* * * *
When Vic walked in the door of the apartmenthe shared with his lover, he could smell the rich scent of homemademarinara sauce bubbling away in the kitchen. Matt made a killerspaghetti—Vic’s stomach rumbled as if on cue, surprising him. Upuntil that moment, he would’ve argued that he was more tired thanhungry, but Matt’s cooking proved him wrong.
Matt popped his head around the corner togrin at Vic. “Hope you’re starving!”
Sweat glistened on his tanned face, and hisblack curls had been pushed off his forehead so often since hebegan cooking, they now stood up from his scalp like the teasedbangs of a teenage girl. His bright green eyes lit up when helooked at Vic, then he disappeared into the kitchen again.
Vic heard a spoon clatter to the counter ashe started to shrug out of his heavy winter coat. “For you,” headmitted. Of course, a plate piled high with spaghetti wouldn’thurt, either.
With any luck, Vic could get the Santa suitout of sight before Matt commented on it. He could just imaginewhat snide remarks his lover would have about the damn suit.Opening the door to the hall closet, he managed to get his coat putaway and was just about to hang the Santa suit on the rack besideit when warm arms eased around his waist and a welcome weightsettled against his back. Matt gave Vic a fierce bear hug, his headresting between Vic’s shoulder blades. “Missed you, big fella,” hemurmured into Vic’s work shirt.
Vic wrapped one arm around his stomach,catching Matt’s hands in a makeshift embrace. Turning his head, heblew Matt a quick kiss. “It’s good to be home.”
“That’s not going to fly, and you know it.”Though Matt had a slighter build than Vic—he spend his days as aswim instructor at the gym’s pool, whereas Vic’s workout of choicewas in the weight room—he easily bent the larger man to his will.Now he turned Vic around, tugging on the front of Vic’s work shirtuntil Vic obliged, and raised his hands to cradle Vic’s face as heleaned in to claim a real kiss.
Though they’d seen each other earlier in theday, when Vic stopped by the gym to lift a few weights beforeheading into work, they kissed as if they’d been apart for years.Matt’s open mouth covered Vic’s, kissing his upper lip first, thenthe bottom, then pulling back just slightly before delving in formore. He nibbled Vic’s full lower lip a moment, then chased thelittle bite marks away with his tongue. Then he licked into Vic’smouth, giving Vic a heady taste of Italian spices still lingeringafter the last sample he’d had of the spaghetti sauce on the stove.His tongue, warm and pliant, ran itself behind Vic’s teeth, overthe ticklish spot on the roof of his mouth, along the ridges andvalleys of Vic’s molars.
The kiss was a visceral experience Vic feltin every fiber of his being, from the top of his shaved head to thebottom of his feet and everywhere in between. His knees weakenedfrom the kiss, his stomach fluttered, and his hands lost interestin holding onto anything that wasn’t this man before him,this, his Matty. The Santa suit dropped to the floor in arush of fabric and plastic, a near-silent whoosh Vic ignoredas Matt’s kiss deepened. He gripped Matt’s elbows instead, pullinghis lover into the span of his arms and wrapped him in a tenderembrace.
Oh yeah, he was starving, all right. Forthis.
Who knew how long they’d stay like that, lipslocked, bodies intertwined? Hours, perhaps, or until the spaghettisauce boiled over enough
