A Vic and Matt StoryVic's boss asks him to don the Santa suit for the company's employee family Christmas dinner -- again. Vic doesn't want to do it, but the added incentive of double his usual yearly bonus changes his mind. He knows Matt's begun looking to buy a house, and the money would go far toward a down payment.
At the dinner, the kids love Vic. One little boy in particular, Brucey Carlson, wants to make sure Vic -- or rather, Santa Vic -- doesn't forget his sister, who's in the hospital for the holiday.
Now Vic has one more stop to make before he can return the Santa suit.
NOTE: No mention of Vic's superhero powers is made in this story, so you can read it even if you haven't read any others in this ongoing series.
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EXCERPT:
Though they’d seen each other earlier in the day, when Vic stopped by the gym to lift a few weights before heading into work, they kissed as if they’d been apart for years. Matt’s open mouth covered Vic’s, kissing his upper lip first, then the bottom, then pulling back just slightly before delving in for more. He nibbled Vic’s full lower lip a moment, then chased the little bite marks away with his tongue. Then he licked into Vic’s mouth, giving Vic a heady taste of Italian spices still lingering after the last sample he’d had of the spaghetti sauce on the stove. His tongue, warm and pliant, ran itself behind Vic’s teeth, over the ticklish spot on the roof of his mouth, along the ridges and valleys of Vic’s molars.
The kiss was a visceral experience Vic felt in every fiber of his being, from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his feet and everywhere in between. His knees weakened from the kiss, his stomach fluttered, and his hands lost interest in holding onto anything that wasn’t this man before him, this, his Matty. The Santa suit dropped to the floor in a rush of fabric and plastic, a near-silent whoosh Vic ignored as Matt’s kiss deepened. He gripped Matt’s elbows instead, pulling his lover into the span of his arms and wrapped him in a tender embrace.
Oh yeah, he was starving, all right. For this.
Who knew how long they’d stay like that, lips locked, bodies intertwined? Hours, perhaps, or until the spaghetti sauce boiled over enough to hiss on the stove’s burners. Fortunately, they were interrupted well before then by a large, golden mutt who, realizing Vic was home from work, came bounding around the corner and down the hall to plow right into them.
Matt pulled away from Vic and sank to his knees in front of Sadie. “Who’s a good girl?” he cooed, scratching behind both her ears. She ate it up, wagging her tail so hard, her hindquarters seemed to wag, too. “You’s a good girl, isn’t she? Isn’t she?”
The singsong baby talk always made Vic roll his eyes. He patted the dog on the top of her head, a less ostentatious show of affection that still earned him a wet nose in his 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 knew meant 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 what the hell, go ahead.”
Grinning up at him, Matt pointed out, “She’s not confused. She knows enough to get down when you’re home, doesn’t she?”
Vic groaned. It was a losing battle and he knew it. At least with a home, Sadie would have a doghouse out in the yard ... and chances were, she’d still sleep in the house. Matt let that 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 the dog on his bed, he could pretend she hadn’t been sleeping there in the first place.
Matt turned his head slightly, glancing behind Vic at the crumpled Santa suit lying in a heap on the floor. “What’s that?”
“What’s it look like?” Vic stooped to retrieve the suit, picking it up by the hanger and shoving it unceremoniously into the thicket of coats in their closet.
A tease crept into Matt’s voice. “It looks like someone’s trying to kiss up to his boss.”
“Getting asked to dress up as Santa for Christmas isn’t kissing up,” Vic said. He closed the closet door and leaned back against it, smiling down at his lover and their dog. “Saying yes was kissing up.”
Matt knew Vic wasn’t the type to actually admit to enjoying something as social as a company-sponsored dinner. “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 do anything.”
Matt stretched as he stood. “For one thing, Roxie isn’t my boss. She’s just the receptionist.”
“Try telling her that.” Vic liked Roxie -- she ran the front counter of the gym where Matt worked, and Vic saw her almost daily. But she had a strong will and a quick temper, and Vic suspected his lover was more than a little scared of getting on her bad side.
“For another thing,” Matt said, closing the distance between them to press his chest against Vic’s, “I’m not stupid enough to tell that woman no. I like my balls right where they are, thank you very much.”
Vic slid a hand between them and lightly goosed the slight bulge at his lover’s crotch. “I wouldn’t want them anywhere else. Tell her hands off. These are mine.”
The sexy smile Matt turned his way trilled through 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’s nose. “Food first, then sex. How’s that sound?”
“I love the menu here,” Vic joked as Matt took his hand and led him into the kitchen.
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