Matt pulled away from Vic and sank to hisknees in front of Sadie. “Who’s a good girl?” he cooed, scratchingbehind both her ears. She ate it up, wagging her tail so hard, herhindquarters seemed to wag, too. “You’s a good girl, isn’t she?Isn’t she?”
The singsong baby talk always made Vic rollhis eyes. He patted the dog on the top of her head, a lessostentatious show of affection that still earned him a wet nose inhis palm and a lick along the back of his hand. Sternly, he asked,“She wasn’t sleeping on our bed, was she?”
“I don’t know,” Matt hedged, which Vic knewmeant yes. “I was in the kitchen.”
“We have to be consistent,” Vic reminded him.“She’s going to get confused if I tell her no and you just say whatthe hell, go ahead.”
Grinning up at him, Matt pointed out, “She’snot confused. She knows enough to get down when you’re home,doesn’t she?”
Vic groaned. It was a losing battle and heknew it. At least with a home, Sadie would have a doghouse out inthe yard…and chances were, she’d still sleep in the house. Matt letthat dog run all over him.
Much the same way he runs all over me,Vic reminded himself. As long as he didn’t actually see thedog on his bed, he could pretend she hadn’t been sleeping there inthe first place.
Matt turned his head slightly, glancingbehind Vic at the crumpled Santa suit lying in a heap on the floor.“What’s that?”
“What’s it look like?” Vic stooped toretrieve the suit, picking it up by the hanger and shoving itunceremoniously into the thicket of coats in their closet.
A tease crept into Matt’s voice. “Itlooks like someone’s trying to kiss up to his boss.”
“Getting asked to dress up as Santa forChristmas isn’t kissing up,” Vic said. He closed the closet doorand leaned back against it, smiling down at his lover and theirdog. “Saying yes was kissing up.”
Matt knew Vic wasn’t the type to actuallyadmit to enjoying something as social as a company-sponsoreddinner. “You could’ve said no.”
With a grunt, Vic reminded him, “To my boss?Yeah, right. Like you’d tell Roxie no if she asked you to doanything.”
Matt stretched as he stood. “For one thing,Roxie isn’t my boss. She’s just the receptionist.”
“Try telling her that.” Vic likedRoxie—she ran the front counter of the gym where Matt worked, andVic saw her almost daily. But she had a strong will and a quicktemper, and Vic suspected his lover was more than a little scaredof getting on her bad side.
“For another thing,” Matt said, closing thedistance between them to press his chest against Vic’s, “I’m notstupid enough to tell that woman no. I like my balls right wherethey are, thank you very much.”
Vic slid a hand between them and lightlygoosed the slight bulge at his lover’s crotch. “I wouldn’t wantthem anywhere else. Tell her hands off. These are mine.”
The sexy smile Matt turned his way trilledthrough Vic’s veins. “Would you like them now?”
“How about some spaghetti first?” Vic asked,a little sheepish. “I really am pretty hungry.”
Matt laughed and kissed the tip of Vic’snose. “Food first, then sex. How’s that sound?”
“I love the menu here,” Vic joked as Matttook his hand and led him into the kitchen.
* * * *
Saturday afternoon found Vic struggling intoa pair of long johns to wear under the Santa pants. The outfititself wasn’t very warm—the flannel was too thin, the pants toobaggy, the jacket too large to hold in any body heat. So Vic donnedthermal underwear and an undershirt before pulling on the pants. Hestuffed a pillow into the waistband before cinching the belt togive himself the girth needed to pull off a classic Santa. Hestudied himself in the mirror. “I look stupid.”
“You’re the sexiest Santa Claus I’ve everseen,” Matt assured him.
Vic glanced at his lover in the mirror’sreflection. Matt’s dark hair was still damp from his shower, thecurls beginning to spring back to frame his face. He wore a pair ofblack corduroy pants and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater thatclung to his chest and arms nicely. “You look sexy,” Vicsaid, stating the obvious. “I look like an overgrown elf with aglandular problem.”
“Put on the hat,” Matt joked. “Then you’ll befat and old.”
But Vic wasn’t about to do that. Earlier inthe week, he’d taken the hat out of the bag to make sure there wasa wig attached to it—Vic had never seen a bald Santa and didn’twant to be scrambling to find a white-haired wig just before thedinner. Sure enough, the Santa hat had a wig, and a fluffy whitebeard to boot. At Matt’s urging Vic had put it on, but when Sadiesaw him, she cowered under the dining room table and couldn’t becoaxed out until Vic took it off again. She didn’t like the hat,for whatever reason. Secretly, Vic agreed with her. He’d wait toput it on until he absolutely had to.
Instead, he shrugged into the red coat andpulled the lapels closed around his pillowed stomach. From her spoton the floor, Sadie watched him with her head on her paws, as ifwaiting for him to leave the room so she could hop up on the bed.In the mirror, Vic saw Matt sink down to sit on the mattress as hepulled on a pair of black trouser socks. Under his breath, Vic gavean experimental, “Ho ho ho.”
Behind him, Matt spoke up. “You know, Ialways thought Santa was like the ultimate sugar daddy. I mean, hehas to be loaded, right? To give toys to all the kids all over theworld? He must trump Trump.”
“Elves make the toys,” Vic reminded him.“It’s just a fairy tale, anyway. He only gives toys to kids whoseparents can afford them. What about all the poor children who getnothing? Or the ones who go to bed without even having enough toeat? Where’s Santa for them?”
His thoughts drifted to his own childhood, orwhat had passed as one. Vic’s father had spent
