Christmas Delights 3 (59 page)

Tony slowly, steadily began what Rob dubbed his legendary
ass dance. His ass muscles clenched, unclenched, rolled, swayed, rotated left
and right, until they clung tight like desperate fingers attached to a
crumbling cliff edge. The stunt made Rob whimper. He worked Tony’s cock even
harder. Yes, his Professor knew how to drive Plantman wild. He loved his
nickname.

Rob nibbled Tony’s sensitive neck. Hoarse words floated
free. “You tease, you sweet, ultimate tease. How can I ever get enough of your
stunning glory? You’re like the sun in human form. You always burn me.”

Tony laughed in breathless amusement and clamped down again.
Rob almost panicked. Had Manny paid attention to Rob’s flowery sex speech?
Fucking his Tony always dislocated Rob’s brain. He never spouted such vaguely
sweet bullshit. Freaky. Rob didn’t want Manny doubting Rob’s hardass composure.

The gasping Rob ordered himself to stop obsessing over his
little speech. He pressed more adoring kisses against Tony’s neck.

To his horror, Manny released a strangled whinny.
Shit!
Rob glanced back. Manny’s cum decorated the polished black marble floor. Good,
he probably hadn’t paid attention to Rob’s sex speech.

Rob furiously mouthed “shush” at him and pointed his chin at
the brass toilet paper holder. Manny leaned over and automatically reached for
the toilet paper. His stare never turned from the action. Thank God he didn’t
knock over the stand.

His startled Tony paused his relentless teasing. “Lover? Was
that you?”

“I got a little excited, baby.” Rob grimaced at his sad lie.
He hated lying about anything. Time to deflect Tony’s dangerous curiosity. The
energized Rob thrust forward. Tony purred. He flexed his lanky shoulders. Rob
played his callused fingers along Tony’s cock. Delirious hoarse cursing echoed
from under his lover’s tangled dark web. Whew. The panting Rob knew once the
wild cursing started, his Tony wouldn’t notice if the fucking toilet exploded.
Tony flew off in his strange little realm toward his grand eruption.

He maneuvered in and out of hot delight. Rob continued
tickling Tony’s nipples. They both tensed in feverish anticipation. An
astonishingly weird crawling sensation whipped through Rob’s encased cock. His
shivering balls felt heavy and ready. Another wild feral thrust. Another. Yeah,
jingle all the way.

Tony shuddered with delight. He thrashed his damp hair
against the air, hitting Rob in the face. His devouring ass trapped Rob’s cock
and squeezed hard.

Rob knew Tony had shut his eyes. A trilling shriek split the
air. One drunken night Tony had confessed to Rob just before Tony climaxed, he
always imagined ascending to the top of the world’s tallest roller coaster. Rob
felt Tony ascending up, up... tenser, tighter, there.... the crest’s edge...
this time Tony screamed for real.

Rob laughed. He massaged Tony’s spasming cock and tried
holding on for a few last thrusts. No go. When Tony’s orgasm hit, his ass
vibrated like an overloaded washing machine. They almost shook the floor. Rob
bear-hugged his arms around Tony’s chest and paid homage to the alter of the
divine ass.

Tony’s trembling fingers lost their grip on the wet sink.
“Rob, you did me in. What a great Christmas Eve present.” His conquered body
collapsed back against Rob’s orgasm. The gasping Rob quickly compensated for
the weight, holding Tony up until he managed to gently pull his cock free. He
slowly dropped them to the floor. The stress of supporting Tony made his thigh
muscles shudder and bunch. His ass finally met his calves. His lover’s ass
cuddled against Rob’s sweaty, musky flesh. Perfection.

They caught their breath. Rob lovingly sucked Tony’s right
ear lobe. He was blessed with a celestial creature possessing a siren’s
mythical ass. And if he ever said those sappy words aloud, he’d claim temporary
insanity. Yeah, he was a lucky old fuck.

A satisfied Rob suddenly remembered the salivating Manny.
Shit, he hated admitting it, but their appreciative audience had turned him on.
When he glanced back, the awe-struck Manny still knelt on the marble floor, his
quaking lower lip succumbing to lustful gravity. He looked like a rural village
priest meeting the Pope. Enough watching. Rob stretched out his left arm and
indicated the bathroom door.
Show over
. Manny nodded with awed farewell
before he backed from the room.

Rob hoped Manny didn’t need to wait too long for a cab. They
had parked Shelia in the garage.

Good, at least Manny had wiped up his own mess. Judging from
Manny’s hilarious response, he didn’t feel cheated.

Neither did Rob. He never did.

He’d even tell his Tony about Manny’s stunt. But later.
Much, much later. Like erm, ten Christmas Eves from now.

Tony moved against his chest. “I had the weirdest feeling we
were being watched. Isn’t that strange, Plantman?”

Panic invaded Rob’s mind. “Ah, yeah, weird.”

“Maybe a few horny elves peeked in the bathroom window along
with reindeer. Ha, they’re naturally horny. I bet Rudolph’s nose was glowing,
right?” Tony twisted and kissed Rob’s chin. He pulled back and cocked his head.
“What’s up? You look upset.”

“Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind.” He kissed Tony.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, nope, it’s all good. Now let’s clean up and start
drinking champagne before the fire.”

“Sounds good. I made a scallop, spinach, and Swiss cheese
quiche. Tonight’s new recipe is a gingered carrot and  roasted red beet slaw.
It’s damned tasty.”

Rob hugged Tony close. “Professor, you are too good to me.”

“You can prove that again later.” They kissed again.

* * * * *

On Christmas, they had slept in, made love, and prepared
their lavish Christmas brunch. This time they cooked French cinnamon toast, a
Swiss cheese and leek omelet, home fries, and grits smothered with butter and
gravy. Tony had been raised in South Carolina. He loved his grits.

Christmas Brunch was the only time Rob drank Mimosas. Tony
adored them. Rob found them too fussy. Too bad. On Tony’s holiday birthday, Rob
indulged. He hated to admit it, but he liked how the Mimosas tasted.

The flurries continued, placing a glittering coating over
their topiary garden. When Rob had purchased the battered old Victorian, he had
planted yews in the hope of creating topiary. This summer he had carved out
shapes. Nothing fancy, but the bunny, duck, and dog were pretty hilarious. They
also looked pretty coated with snow.

As they set by the tree, Rob oooed and ahhed over his gifts.
Tony always knew what Rob needed; a new tie for client meetings, super
heavy-duty leather gloves, specialized pruning shears, and his favorite
lavender tea to help him sleep.

They had agreed never to give extravagant gifts, which was
why Rob felt uneasy about Shelia.

Tony sat smiling with equal parts suspicion and
anticipation. “Come on, Rob Nulty, I know you’ve been naughty. You broke the
extravagant rule. I just know it.”

Rob felt as busted as a dropped light bulb. He handed Tony a
red envelope. Tony opened it, saw the picture, and gasped with shock. “Shelia!”

“She’s all yours, baby.”

“No! Rob, I mean, I love her, but…” Tony shook his head.
“You can’t afford her. I know how much Manny wants for her.”

Bile rose in Rob’s throat. “You do?”

“I asked.”

Rob flopped back to the wooden floor
. Shit, shit, shit!

“Rob? Plantman, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.
I’m such a bastard. I love my present, I really do.”

A few elves, Rudolph, and Christmas Sprit all kicked Rob in
the gut. He sat up and sighed. “I didn’t buy her. I bartered for her.”

“That’s perfect!” Tony reached over to tickle Rob’s stomach.
“Now I know why Manny asked me how far I’d go to make you happy.”

Rob almost fell over again. This time confusion joined in to
kick him. “Wait… what?”

“Remember our party just before the nasty-assed storm
knocked over the trees? We were so shitfaced. Manny cornered me and asked me if
you really needed something, would I let someone watch our fucking? I said of
course.” Tony smiled. “He was there yesterday, right?”

Rob’s heat index shot into purple splashed with red. “I’m
gonna kill that little…”

“No, Plantman, you’re not.” Tony crawled to Rob and kissed
him. “I’m eighty shades of astonished you let anyone see us fucking. You’re
quite the jealous boy. No matter. It all works out. I have my cherry red
Shelia, Manny has his fantasy, and you have the honor of driving with me
through the Christmas snow to enjoy the lights.”

Rob’s eyelids performed the same crazy blinking stunt as
yesterday. He grinned with relief. “Professor, you are something else.”

“Plantman, you’re my hero. Now let’s dress warm and cruise
the neighborhoods.” He cocked his head. “I don’t think a little snow will mess
up Shelia’s leather interior. Right?”

“Probably not.”

“Good.”

Twenty minutes later Tony backed Shelia out of the driveway.
He gunned the 1966 Mustang’s powerful motor before he dramatically pealed down
the quiet street. Snow fell around the car.

Tony stopped at a stop sign. The snow fell into the car. As
he draped his arm around Tony’s black leather-clad shoulders, Rob leaned back
and caught snowflakes on his tongue.

They tasted magical.

THE END

SA Garcia

"Thirty years ago, I started
writing gay male romance. Writing about men inserting tab A into slot B didn’t
seem the norm for a suburban female teenager. Reading Gordon Merrick, John
Rechy and Larry Kramer helped me fill in the serious informational gaps. Yes, I
read those books in my bedroom. No wonder.

As the years progressed, I still
wrote gay male romance, although the stories progressed from lurking in
notebooks to hiding on the computer. I wrote fantasies, contemporaries, bodice
rippers; I chugged along following my goofy muse.

Now I’m glad I kept the writing
faith. I never thought I’d have published novels. Imagine, my comedy An Elf for
All Centuries (Silver Publishing) was in the running for a few awards. The
novel didn’t win, but come on, what a thrill.

My life has turned into a fun
quandary of too many stories hindered by my slow, two-fingered typing skills. I
blunder onward into more trauma, drama, and humor. I just hope I can keep up
with sexy men who insist on running off with the plots!

Check out my latest releases:

Love in the Shadows, my first attempt
at mixing M/M historic and contemporary with a touch of the supernatural, is
now at MLR Press.

My M/M romdramedy
(romance/drama/comedy) The Gospel According to Cher is now at Dreamspinner,
home to my novellas and the novel Cupid Knows Best.

My dark comedies An Elf for All
Centuries and Temptation of the Incubus are sold at the usual retailers.

What’s New
http://sa-garcia.macmate.me/S.A_Garcias_World_of_Words/
 

Blog
http://oscarsbruisedpetals.blogspot.com/

Email
[email protected]

Twitter
https://twitter.com/SAGarcia_Writer

Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4771610.S_A_Garcia

Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0052HXKU8

Chapter 1

You promised you would return to me for Christmas after
your tour was over.

Where are you?

~C

Leaning against the wall of post office boxes, staring at
those innocent words scribbled on the back of a postcard, Trace LaPointe felt
the rush of memories and emotions rushing back to him. His last tour with the
Marines was over two years ago. He was on a security patrol. His team got split
in half by opposition fire. Hunkered down behind broken walls of concrete and
dirt, he returned fire with other members. Hearing one guy go down, Trace went
into action to retrieve his friend and comrade out of the line of fire.
Securing him and returning for another, he didn’t see the hidden IED buried
under earlier carnage until the soldier he carried nudged the trigger. The
blasted thing exploded. Shrapnel tore into his left leg to the point where the
doctors were forced to amputate his leg above the knee. The rest of his body
carried the scars of war. The man he tried to rescue died.

Since his release from the rehab center after learning to
use his new prosthetic leg, he walked away and hadn’t stopped his wandering.
There was no way to return to the one he left behind as half a man with so much
piled on his shoulders. He lived out of a well-used truck, camping gear, a three-day
stretch backpack, and matching deployment container bag. Both bags had seen him
through several endless tours starting with the Persian Gulf War and ending
with the IED in Afghanistan. The battered bags carried his items during his
travels. Thanks to automatic deposit, he could travel anywhere the urge took
him.