A Case of Christmas (10 page)

and then to help your recognize and appreciate happiness when it was yours. To remind

you not to give it up without a fight.

“That was too close, Shane.” Maybe Linus meant Shane’s injury. Maybe he meant

something else.

“I’ll be careful,” Shane promised, and maybe he meant something else too. They had

both been wounded, after all.

Linus’s hand slid lower, and need shot through Shane who arched instinctively,

hungrily—and then flinched because
that
definitely hurt. Strenuous sex was out. Even

non-strenuous sex was probably somewhere on that lengthy list the hospital had handed

him, and if that wasn’t a fucking lump of coal for Christmas, Shane didn’t know what

was.

“Take it easy,” Linus was murmuring. “I don’t want you to come apart at the seams.”

“If I don’t get some—” Shane swallowed the rest of it as Linus’s hand closed around

his cock. His bitching changed to a sigh of pleasure. Pleasure mixed with frustration

because a hand job was so not what he wanted, but Linus had a beautiful touch. Every

stroke was a caress, that warm, knowing grip sliding up and down…up and down,

tightening where it felt best…oh yes, like every single trip was the first leg of an amazing

journey.

“What about you?” Shane panted, his hand closing over Linus’s. Not for guidance,

more reassurance that this wasn’t going to stop. That Linus was not going anywhere.

Linus said with shattering honesty, “This is so much more than I thought I’d have —

anyway, it’s one night out of all the nights…” He leaned in to Shane again, kissing him

wetly, thoroughly, to quiet his objection—not that Shane was really objecting. Who the

hell could object to that careful, deliberate stoking of exquisite pleasure?

But he wanted to give as well as receive, even if it killed him. He made a supreme

effort, interrupting that seductive rhythm to push Linus’s hand away, then hauling him in

closer, molding their bodies together, burying his hands in Linus’s muscled backside.

Linus gasped, part relief, part concern, and his cock drove hard against Shane’s.

They thrust against each other in fierce, powerful strikes, collision and coupling all in

one, no time for grace or finesse, grinding to the finish which came in hot gulps of sticky,

wet release.

Linus buried his head in Shane’s neck, groaning, “Shane. Jesus. Shane.” He was still

shuddering with the aftershocks of release.

Shane was shivering too with a mix of exertion and euphoria. Surreptitiously he

checked his stitches, but he was still in one piece. And it would have been worth it either

way.

“You good?” Linus said, his voice muffled against Shane’s throat. He feathered

gentle fingers over Shane’s abdomen.

Shane nodded and kissed Linus’s ear, which was all he had energy to try for.

“Then we’re both good,” Linus whispered.

They woke to blue skies and the steady silver toll of chimes from the bell tower.

On the ninth
dong
Shane unstuck his eyelids. Linus was studying him, smiling. It

was a funny little smile. Peaceful. That was all Linus because Norton had never seemed

particularly peaceful.

“You don’t have any coffee,” Linus informed him.

Shane blinked, trying to focus. “I—you’re right. Hell.”

“It’s okay. I know the guy who lives across the road. He’s got coffee. And a loaf of

banana nut bread.”

“I need to get to know that guy.”

Linus’s smile widened. He leaned in and kissed Shane.

Simple, uncomplicated sex. Emotions were what complicated matters. Emotions

changed sex from mere exercise, pleasurable physical exertion, to happy ever after and a

reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Because of who you were going to bed with that night.

Or something like that. Shane did not think of himself as a romantic guy. But the

best Christmas present he could ever remember was hearing Linus say,
Anyway, it’s one

night out of all the nights…

Because there were going to be other nights, many nights, and they would look back

and laugh about not being able to really have sex on the night of their big reunion

because Shane had had surgery the week before.

Linus was still smiling, still watching him.

“What?” Shane asked.

Linus shrugged a bare, broad shoulder. “All I can think is, I must have been a very

good boy this year.”

Shane laughed. Linus reached out, and Shane moved into the circle of his arms. It

felt right. Comfortable.

After a time, Linus said, “You never said why you weren’t spending Christmas with

your family.”

“I don’t know how to explain it without sounding…” He glanced at Linus, and Linus

raised his brows in inquiry.

“When I was injured—when I felt that sword slice into me—” Shane grimaced.

“Obviously, there was a moment of…
oh shit
.”

He was joking, expecting Linus to laugh, so he was startled when Linus’s arm

tightened and he pressed his face against Shane’s. Linus didn’t say anything. His skin felt

supple and warm, his lips soft, bristle on his jaw, flicker of eyelashes…he was breathing

quietly with Shane. There was something weirdly moving about it, about the fact that

Linus had no words. Shane felt an unexpected heat in the back of his eyes, and he blinked

it away, raised his head, smiling into Linus’s solemn blue eyes.

“But the other thing that went through my mind was…”

“Was?”

“This can’t be it. This can’t be all there was to my life. I never got a chance at the

things I really wanted. And see, until that moment, I didn’t realize there even
were
things

I had really wanted and never tried for.”

Linus nodded as though he understood. Did he?

“It left me feeling… I don’t know. My mother remarried finally, and she’s very

happy. My brother is engaged to a woman who’s perfect for him. My sister adopted a

little girl from Ghana about a year ago. I love them all, and I’m happy for them, and this

is going to sound horrible, but I just didn’t feel like I could handle being around them

right now.”

“I think I get it.”

“Really? Because I’m not sure I do.”

“No, I feel the same way. I mean about something missing. That’s one reason I left

Metropolitan Mutual and started my own company. And it’s one reason I bought the

cottage across from yours.”

“You wanted more vacation time.” Shane was kidding. That’s how far they had

traveled in the course of a night. They had sailed to new worlds.

“I did, yeah. And I also thought maybe sooner or later we’d be on this island at the

same time.”

“You didn’t seem very happy to see me.”

Linus didn’t try to deny it. “I know. I’m sorry. It was a shock, for sure. I’d kind of

given up on the idea when you never made any effort to get in touch.” His smile was self-

mocking. “I don’t think I realized how much that hurt until I saw you again.”

Shane shook his head. “And then I was mad at you.”

Eventually that was going to be funny. Right now, it was still a bit tender.

Watching him, Linus said, “Those two weeks we spent together…it felt like the way

life was supposed to be. I don’t mean being on vacation. I mean being with someone, the

right someone. Having someone to talk to and laugh with and all the rest of it.”

“Sex,” Shane said.

Linus grinned. “Sex, sure as hell.” His smile faded. “I didn’t want, didn’t intend to

get emotionally involved with you, but once it happened…I did think that in a perfect

world, it should have worked out for us.”

“It’s not a perfect world.”

“No. And it doesn’t have to be, because a lot of things work out fine anyway.” Linus

added with a touch of bravado that couldn’t quite conceal the question in his eyes, “It just

maybe takes longer?”

Shane nodded. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

Epilogue

A
fter Linus left to put the turkey in the oven, Shane called his family.

“I hate to disappoint you, but I may not fly up for another day or two,” he told his

mother, once the official greetings were out of the way.

“Oh no! Are you not feeling up to it, dear?” Mom delivered a master stroke which

managed to make him feel both guilty and beloved with one blow.

“I’m actually feeling great,” Shane admitted. “But I met someone.”

There was an astonished silence. “You met someone,” his mother repeated. “
You

did?” It was the same tone that parents used when dragged to jail in the middle of the

night to bail out children they had previously believed candidates for angelhood.
My
kid?

Mine?

“Yes. Well, this is someone I met before, but we ran into each other—”

“Is this the boy from Catalina?” his mother interrupted.

Shane had to spare a grin for the description of either himself or Linus as boys, but…

“Yeah. I didn’t realize I had—”

“The one you would never talk about.”

Actually, Shane never discussed any of his relationships. Well, okay, he didn’t really

have relationships, which was maybe why.

“Uh, yes,” he admitted, because there really wasn’t any other possibility.

“Shane, that’s wonderful!”

Her enthusiasm took him aback—had she been worried about him?—but it felt good

too. “It sort of is, yeah. It is.”

“When you do come, bring him with you. We’ve got plenty of room, and we’d love

to meet him.”

It was not the short phone call he had anticipated, but when he did finally manage to

disconnect, he was smiling.

He showered and dressed, but then there were still a few hours to go before he was

due at Linus’s. On impulse he went into the spare bedroom which had served as Lacey’s

office/study. A large cardboard box sat on the desk in front of the window where once,

years ago, he’d started clearing out Lacey’s drawers. But there had never been any

urgency, and he’d always had better things to do when he was on the island.

Now he began to empty the drawers in earnest. Maps, dive charts, a broken compass,

and a handful of tarnished coins. The detritus of an obsession. He piled it all in, with

barely a glance. There were snapshots too. Everybody was young once. Two trim, tanned

couples in swimsuits and shorts toasting the camera. And then two not-so-trim but still

tanned couples in swimsuits and shorts toasting the camera. A lot of toasts through a lot

of years. It would be a hell of a thing to outlive all your friends and lovers.

In the filing cabinet were more maps, pages and pages of notes on yellow legal

paper, and newspaper clippings about shipwrecks and recovered treasures. All of it went

into the box.

It was a little before three when he finished. He carried the box into the front room

and added the ship in a bottle from the bookshelf.

He left the cottage and started up Clarissa Avenue. The power had been on for a few

hours, and Christmas lights were twinkling and blinking in the moody, lustrous late

afternoon. The air smelled like the sea, and yet somehow there seemed to be a hint of

pine.

He knocked on Hupert’s door, and after a moment, Hupert opened the door. The

scent of roast chicken and music swirled out into the chilly, gray afternoon. Bing Crosby.

What else?

“Mr. Donovan!” Hupert seemed torn between alarm and hope. His gaze fell on the

box Shane carried, and widened. “Is that—are those—?”

“Yep.” Shane handed the box over. “I think this is everything.”

Hupert took the box, awkwardly clutching it as though it was an ungainly child, as

though fearing that if he set it down, Shane might snatch it back. “I-I don’t know what to

say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Merry Christmas.”

Shane started to turn away. Hupert said quickly, “Mr. Donovan—Shane—if I—if I

do
find the treasure, I’ll split it with you. You can have Ed’s share.”

Shane smiled. “Okay. Sure.” On impulse—one he would probably regret—he added,

“Keep me posted on your progress.”

Hupert’s eyes brightened. “I will! I’ll do that.”

Before the door closed, Bing Crosby informed Shane that it was beginning to look a

lot like Christmas—but he had already figured that out for himself.

As Shane strode back down Clarissa Avenue, he could see the deep blue of the

Pacific gleaming like the edge of a sword against the darker sky. And he could see a light

shining in the window of Linus’s cottage, warm and welcoming. It reminded him of

something.

It reminded him of home.

A distinct voice in gay fiction, multi-award-winning author JOSH LANYON has been

writing gay mystery, adventure, and romance for over a decade. In addition to numerous

short stories, novellas, and novels, Josh is the author of the critically acclaimed Adrien

English series, including
The Hell You Say
, winner of the 2006 USABookNews awards

for GLBT Fiction. Josh is an Eppie Award winner and a four-time Lambda Literary