Hearth and Home (3 page)

Thistle blushed. Bayberry’s hair was a source of fascination for him, being a unique combination of the blues and reds and purples of bayberries. Which, of course, made perfect sense, given his name was Bayberry. Just as Pinebough’s hair was the color of evergreens and Mistletoe’s was the color of the white berries. Yet there was something about Bayberry’s hair. It was almost… iridescent was the closest word Thistle could think of to describe the shimmering color. Bayberry had finely arched eyebrows that matched his hair, but they weren’t quite thin enough to be considered feminine. His mouth was… well, it was just kissable, was what it was. Thistle liked to nibble, and Bayberry’s slightly fuller lower lip was perfect for it. Thistle could spend hours nipping, nibbling, and playing with that lip, especially since he also really enjoyed kissing. He didn’t get to do it nearly as much as he liked since there was no boyfriend in the picture.

“Thistle?”

Bayberry’s smooth voice drew Thistle from his thoughts, and he suddenly realized Bayberry had been trying to get his attention for several minutes. Could a sleigh just run him over now, please? Could he have made a bigger ass of himself? Immediately, he covered his face with his hands. After a few more minutes of abject mortification, Thistle peeked through his fingers. Bayberry was smiling. It wasn’t a shit-eating grin, but a small smile, as if he appreciated being admired.

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said. “I didn’t mean to stare at you like a complete idiot.”

“That’s all right, Thistle,” Bayberry said before he took a bite of a sugar cookie. “I don’t mind.”

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Thistle asked in an attempt to subtly change the subject. It was about as subtle as a moose in the kitchen.

“Well, since we have to make up the glass orders…,” Bayberry began.

Oh, that. More mortification. “Sorry,” Thistle groaned, but to his surprise, Bayberry just shrugged like it was no big deal. Yeah, right. Suuuure it wasn’t.

“Santa has requested that I go back on the floor to catch us up. However, this is when I normally do my month-end reports. I can’t do both, not and remain sane. So Santa suggested I ask you to assist me with the reports. Do you think you would be willing to lend a hand?”

“You’re asking for help… from me?” Eyes wide, Thistle’s voice squeaked on the last word. “No one asks for my help. I’m a disaster waiting to happen!”

“You’re not that bad,” Bayberry chuckled. “A little accident-prone maybe, but surely not a disaster.”

“Excuse me, have we met?” Thistle said with a snort.

Bayberry chuckled, and a warm rush of pleasure flooded Thistle’s body. “Yes, several centuries ago,” Bayberry said.

“Hmph,” Thistle said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would you ask me for help?”

“Well, Santa said you were very good with reports and that’s what I need. I’ve never been late with my paperwork, and I don’t want to start now. If that means asking for help, well, then I will ask for help,” Bayberry said.

“Nobody asks for
my
help. They don’t want to deal with the fallout. You can’t possibly want to do this.”

“Thistle, I don’t understand.” The confusion in Bayberry’s voice made Thistle look at him. “You were trying to help Mistletoe the other day, and I know you’ve tried to help other departments in the past. Why are you fighting when you’re being
asked
to help?”

“I guess I’m just used to the other elves thinking I’m incompetent,” Thistle said, his voice barely audible, but Bayberry heard him, much to his chagrin.

“I don’t think you’re incompetent. I never have. And a recommendation from Santa is not something to be sneezed at. He has faith you can do it, and that’s good enough for me. Please, help me.”

Thistle studied Bayberry for several moments. A part of him was ecstatic that he was being asked to help, that someone thought he could be a help, but the other part was waiting for the punch line. Yet, looking into Bayberry’s eyes, he could tell Bayberry was being honest. Then came that insidious little voice in the back of his head to whisper in his ear.

If you’re helping him with his reports, you can ogle him to your heart’s content, and he does have a very fine ass worth ogling.

Thistle barely kept from rolling his eyes at himself—his inner horny elf was fighting to get out.

“All right, I’ll help you with your reports,” Thistle finally relented. “You might want to warn Pinebough, though. I don’t think he likes me. Of course, I don’t think he likes anybody at all, except Santa, and that’s because
everybody
loves Santa.”

“Nah, I think Pinebough has a crush on Mistletoe,” Bayberry said with a teasing smile. “Every time they’re in the same room, he can’t take his eyes off her and he goes all mushy when Mrs. Claus asks him anything.”

“Really? Well, that’s going to be interesting to watch. Mistletoe is… well, Mistletoe.”

“True enough,” Bayberry said. “So, when do you want to start?”

“Oh, well, I promised Mrs. Claus I would help with the baking this morning, but I could do it after lunch. Would that be all right?” Thistle asked hesitantly. Since he’d never been asked to help with official North Pole duties, he didn’t want to mess up the opportunity by not jumping right on the job, but he had made a promise to Mrs. Claus….

“That would be perfect, Thistle,” Bayberry said with a bright smile, like he was really and truly pleased with the plan. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” Thistle couldn’t think. He could only stare at Bayberry’s smiling face. His heart fluttered in his chest. He was literally struck speechless at the sight. When he finally realized he was staring again, Thistle quickly dropped his eyes to the plate holding cookies he didn’t remember picking. A shiver of pleasure raced from his chin to his groin as Bayberry lifted Thistle’s head with one curled finger.

“Don’t hide,” Bayberry said quietly. “I like the way you stare at me.” Then he leaned down and brushed a light kiss across Thistle’s lips, making Thistle’s brain shut down again. Bayberry’s soft chuckle barely registered as he walked away.

It took Thistle a few moments before his brain worked through the shock of being kissed by Bayberry. Heat flooded his cheeks, and warm pleasure filled him. Bayberry had kissed him. Bayberry had
kissed
him. Thistle pinched his arm, yelping when the pain proved he was, indeed, awake.

“Well, that was interesting.” Mrs. Claus’s teasing voice pulled Thistle from his hormone-induced shock. “Bayberry
is
a fine-looking specimen of elf.”

“He’s perfection,” Thistle whispered before slapping a hand over his mouth. Had he just said that out loud? Mrs. Claus’s laugh said, yes, he had.

“You have good taste,” Mrs. Claus said. Then she bustled off, leaving Thistle to his thoughts.

F
OR
THE
rest of the morning, Thistle was by turns incredibly excited and utterly terrified. He ping-ponged so much that when Mrs. Claus came back, she kicked him out of the kitchen with a laugh. Of course, she included a huge plate of sugar cookies, with the admonishment to make sure Bayberry didn’t eat them all. After promising to eat more, Thistle practically flew to his cottage, not tripping or stumbling once. He certainly couldn’t show up covered in flour and frosting and chocolate, although the latter could lead to….

No
, Thistle admonished. He needed to focus. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He would need to maintain that calm while working with Bayberry.

After a few more deep breaths, Thistle climbed into the shower. Invariably, as often happened when he felt water sluicing down the entire length of his body, Thistle’s skin began tingling. Little bolts of pleasure burst within him, traveling to his groin with surprising speed. A little whimper escaped as he let his hand wander south after pinching and flicking one dusky nipple. He circled his navel with a fingertip, which always made him shiver. Would Bayberry be that thorough? Would he look for all the little things that made Thistle tremble? Would Thistle ever stop fantasizing about Bayberry?

Not likely.

Finally, Thistle wrapped his hand around his hard cock. His head hit the shower wall with a
thunk
. Bayberry’s face appeared in his head as his eyes closed, heightening his other senses. He imagined those long-fingered hands stroking his flesh, teasing Thistle until he writhed and begged for more. Thistle pictured Bayberry there with him in the shower and stroked harder, squeezing a little more tightly. A loud moan filled the room, and Thistle might have been embarrassed by the volume if anyone else had been around.

In his mind, Bayberry continued with a slow, steady pace, driving Thistle crazy. He dropped to his knees, traced his fingers up the inside of Thistle’s thigh, and then cupped Thistle’s balls. He rolled them between his fingers, eliciting another loud moan from Thistle. Bayberry’s soft chuckle teased Thistle’s ears, making his entire body tremble in response. The soft pressure of Bayberry’s fingers pressing and teasing the sensitive skin behind his scrotum made Thistle cry out and part his legs.

Thistle waited, anticipation quickening his breathing. He wanted to feel Bayberry inside him, even if it was only those tantalizing fingers. Would Bayberry be gentle? Would he take Thistle hard and fast? Or would he take his time, pushing Thistle to peak slowly?

With a deft twist at the top and a flick of his finger in the slit, Thistle arched his back as he came, his seed splashing against the tiled wall. His entire body shook with the force of his orgasm. Slowly, he slid down until he was sitting on the shower floor, his legs no longer able to support him. If just the thought of Bayberry stroking his cock did that to him, Thistle wasn’t sure he would survive the real thing. Oh, but he so wanted to find out.

Thistle continued to sit in his shower, waiting for his body to return to normal. Hopefully he would be able to remain calm in Bayberry’s presence after coming so hard. He wasn’t going to hold his breath for it, though. Bayberry just did it for him. Thistle knew he didn’t have a chance with Bayberry, but he couldn’t stop dreaming or fantasizing about him. It just wasn’t possible.

“I wish I did, though,” Thistle said aloud. “I would love to be the one to take care of him, be the elf he comes home to every night and wakes up to every morning. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Y
OU
WANTED
to see me?” Pinebough asked as he entered Bayberry’s office.

Bayberry looked up from the paperwork in front of him and smiled. Pinebough was a little rough around the edges, and gruff, and taciturn, but he was a good elf, and one of Bayberry’s best friends. He nodded toward the chairs in front of his desk, and Pinebough sat.

“For the foreseeable future, I will be working on the floor to help us get back on schedule with the glassworks. We’ll also need to schedule some overtime. While I’m on the floor, Thistle will be helping me with the month-end reports,” Bayberry said.

“What?” Pinebough’s eyebrows shot upward and then dropped in a scowl. “He’s the reason we’re behind, and you want to bring him in here on purpose? Bay, he’s an accident waiting to happen.”

“He’s not that bad,” Bayberry said, a bit defensively, which only made Pinebough’s eyebrows shoot up again. “Besides, he’s not going to be on the floor. He will be in my office. Santa says he’s good with reports and such, does all the ordering for Mrs. Claus when she needs a hand, and he’s willing to help. He
wants
to help.”

“Yes, but his ‘help’ usually results in more work for everyone else.” Pinebough sighed. “And honestly, I don’t want to see him get hurt. Have you ever noticed that? Whenever he’s involved in an accident, he’s the only one who ever gets hurt. It’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah, I have noticed,” Bayberry said. “But I can’t work on the floor
and
get my reports done without going insane and taking everyone with me. Or getting so exhausted that I start making mistakes.”

“True, you’re nasty when you’re overworked and overtired,” Pinebough said with a nod. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Thistle is going to be here this afternoon. I want everyone to be nice to him,” Bayberry said. “He knows he’s accident-prone and that he upsets people when stuff happens. It makes him nervous, and then things just get worse.” He hesitated for a moment, debating revealing anything further. But Pinebough was his best friend and could be trusted to get the others to cooperate without gossiping. “You should have seen the look on his face when I asked for his help. He was shocked. At first he didn’t believe me, and it took a little talking to get him to agree with this, but when he realized I was truly serious, his face lit up like a star on top of a Christmas tree, he was so happy. I think Thistle wants to feel useful, and he likes helping people, which is why he tries so hard.”

“It sounds to me as if you’re sweet on him,” Pinebough said with a knowing grin.

Then there was the other side of being best friends. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bayberry said, but he could feel the heat suffuse his face all the way to his ear tips.

“You
are
sweet on him!” Pinebough said, laughing in surprise.

“Shut up,” Bayberry groused. “Thistle is very charming and kind.”

“Not to mention very easy on the eyes,” Pinebough said with a smirk.

Bayberry felt a rush of something, and he realized he didn’t like the idea that Pinebough thought Thistle was attractive. He wanted to growl at Pinebough to stay away. What was up with that? He had no claim on Thistle. They weren’t dating or anything… not that Bayberry would turn down the opportunity to date Thistle, but still, he didn’t like it.

“You’re frowning,” Pinebough teased. “I would go so far as to say you’re scowling.”

“Shut up,” Bayberry repeated.

Pinebough held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right, I’ll leave you in peace,” he said with a smile as he rose from the chair. “I’ll let everyone know what’s going on too. With you on the floor, we should have no problem making up for the loss.”