Hearth and Home (7 page)

After wrapping an arm around Thistle to hold him close, Bayberry shifted into a sitting position, settling Thistle in his lap. He didn’t want to let go either. He wanted to spend more time with Thistle—free time, not just time at work. As he tucked a strand of hair behind Thistle’s ear, Bayberry felt the first stirrings of wakefulness from Thistle. Those lashes fluttered and then rose to reveal Thistle’s beautiful blue eyes. Bayberry chuckled when Thistle’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re still here,” Thistle whispered.

“I said I would be,” Bayberry said.

“I… I thought you’d leave once I was asleep,” Thistle said, and Bayberry saw the flush filling his face.

“Did you want me to be gone? I… I thought, from what you said last night that you wanted me to stay.” Bayberry didn’t like the uncertainty filling him, not one bit.

“No! No, I… I very much want you to stay forever.” Thistle seemed to realize just what he said. He jerked away from Bayberry, his hands flying to cover his mouth, and then he attempted to flee.

Bayberry wasn’t having any of that. He wrapped his arms tight around Thistle and refused to let go. “I would like that very much too,” Bayberry said once he had pulled Thistle’s hands away from his face.

Thistle just stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Bayberry couldn’t resist. He leaned forward and kissed Thistle, long and deep. When he pulled back, Thistle’s pupils were blown and a fine trembling shook his slender body.

“We’re covered in dried cum,” Thistle said.

They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Bayberry burst out laughing. Thistle ducked his head, but he was smiling as well. Then his light musical laugh joined Bayberry’s in filling the room.

Bayberry pulled Thistle tighter into his embrace and kissed him until Thistle was breathless. “Well, then, we have two options,” Bayberry said as he nuzzled Thistle’s neck.

“And those are?” Thistle said as he clutched at Bayberry’s shoulders.

“We can bathe together or one at a time,” Bayberry said. “Together, we won’t get to work on time. One at a time, and we will.”

“Why wouldn’t we get… oh!” Thistle smiled.

“That’s right. You and me in the shower. Both of us wet, slick, and naked,” Bayberry purred.

“Not discouraging,” Thistle panted as he cupped Bayberry’s face and kissed him. “Not in the least.”

“True,” Bayberry said. “But there’s only two weeks left until Yule, and there’s still work to do.”

Thistle pouted.

Bayberry nipped at his bottom lip before licking it to sooth the small hurt. That kiss led to more kisses and then more petting, and then… they were late for work.

T
HISTLE
WALKED
in a daze. Whatever he had expected from his date with Bayberry, it most definitely had
not
been the most amazing night of his life. Incredible sex and an elf who wanted to stay with him were his dream. Well, okay, that wasn’t precisely true. His dream was to have a warm, loving mate and a home filled with that love all the time.
That
was his dream. He wanted the type of home his parents and grandparents had. He wanted that kind of home with Bayberry.

Thistle was drawn from his thoughts by the feel of Bayberry’s fingers twining with his own. He looked from their hands to Bayberry’s face and couldn’t stop his smile from appearing. It was probably a dopey smile, but looking at Bayberry standing next to him, Thistle didn’t care. Bayberry returned Thistle’s smile and they kept walking.

As they drew closer to the workshop, Thistle tried to pull his hand out of Bayberry’s grasp, but Bayberry wouldn’t let go. He gave Thistle a stern look. They walked through the main doors of Santa’s workshop together, still holding hands. In fact, Bayberry didn’t release his hold on Thistle until they were at the door of his office. Then Bayberry leaned down and, in front of everyone, kissed him—long, slow, and delicious. The kiss stole Thistle’s breath, and he stared at Bayberry as he stroked Thistle’s cheek and then went to the glass works table.

Gentle fingers lifted his chin, closing his mouth.

Thistle startled and then turned to see Pinebough standing next to him with a smile on his face. Pinebough was
smiling
at Thistle. Now things were totally weird. “What?” Thistle asked, taking a step away, which only seemed to amuse Pinebough.

“Thank you,” Pinebough said.

“For?”

“I’ve known Bayberry a long time, and I have never seen him this happy or this relaxed. That’s because of you, so thank you,” Pinebough said with a shrug. “You make him happy.”

“Oh, well, he makes me happy too.”

“And thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome. Wait. What?” Thistle stared at Pinebough in amazement.

“You have a distinct feel to your magic and a distinct scent. Most elves don’t pay attention, but I do,” Pinebough explained. “I knew from the first you were the one leaving the baskets of treats. It’s a sweet and kind gesture, and I wanted you to know it is appreciated. While I may get frustrated with you, Thistle, I value the way you try to help and the way you do things just to be nice.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Thistle said with a small smile. “I enjoy baking and I know you all work so very hard throughout the year. You deserve something special.”

“We wouldn’t be averse to having more of those German chocolate truffles,” Pinebough hinted with a smile of his own.

“I figured you for a lemon bar fan,” Thistle said with a chuckle.

“Too tart for me. I have as big a sweet tooth as Bayberry. Now, get to work. Bayberry’s already looked over here five times in the last ten minutes. He won’t get any work done at this rate.”

Thistle smacked Pinebough’s arm playfully, something he never would have done before, and then went into the office, shutting the door behind him. He sat at Bayberry’s desk and just stared at the papers, not really seeing them. This had been the weirdest day he’d ever had, and it wasn’t even over yet. It was amazing and wonderful and… and… he couldn’t think of another word to describe it.

A part of Thistle wondered if he was still in his bed, dreaming all of this. He winced at the pain in his arm where he’d pinched himself. Nope, not dreaming. Thistle rubbed at the abused flesh. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the paperwork on the desk. He still had his own work to do if he was going to help Bayberry get these reports in on time.

T
WO
WEEKS
later, Thistle now wondered if he was in a coma. Of course, there was no reason he would be in a coma, but the last week had been surreal. Bayberry had spent every night with Thistle. They had made love all over his cottage and out in his garden. Thistle felt the change in his house. It didn’t seem complete without Bayberry there, and Thistle wondered what would happen once the holidays were over. When the excitement had died down, would the passion between them fade? Thistle wanted Bayberry with him forever and Bayberry had said it sounded good, but saying and doing weren’t always the same things.

Now every elf in the workshop was helping with the loading of Santa’s sleigh. Bayberry and Thistle worked side by side. Excitement filled the air. This was their favorite time of year, where all their hard work went out into the world. Some of it would be appreciated by the people receiving the gifts, others would not, but that wasn’t the point. They worked for Santa because they wanted to spread happiness and cheer. The warm Christmas socks, the latest electronics, the cuddliest teddy bears—they all made someone light up inside, and in turn, that light filled Santa’s workshop. Whatever the trappings of culture or society, it didn’t matter. The elves did it all because in the end, the meaning of the holiday was all the same: happiness to all and good will to men.

Every elf in the workshop stood in two columns, five elves deep, on either side of the doorway from Santa’s house to his sleigh. The double doors opened slowly and light poured out. Slowly, the figure of Santa stepped into the light, haloed by it. The sides of his great coat billowed and kicked out as he walked, his black boots clomping on the snow-covered ground. The white fur of his great hat fluttered in the slight breeze that whirled the snowflakes around. As Santa walked, he donned his black gloves.

A step behind him was Mrs. Claus, the brilliant blue of her greatcoat a contrast to the vibrant red of Santa’s. Yes, she was in her own as the Snowflake Maiden.

They paused in front of Thistle, and he ducked his head with a smile. Santa’s booming laugh filled the air. He pulled Thistle into a tight hug, jerking him off his feet.

“It’s not a dream. You’re not in a coma. This is my gift to you, Thistle, a love to last a lifetime,” Santa said before setting him back down on his feet. Then he winked at Bayberry, who looked a bit shell-shocked, and continued on his way.

They stood there, frozen, until the sleigh disappeared into the night sky. Thistle felt Bayberry’s grip tighten on his hand. He turned to look at Bayberry. Those amazing eyes were dark with desire, and an answering hunger began deep within Thistle. He nodded, and then they were running to Thistle’s house.

Clothing flew, hands fondled, and mouths feasted as they tried to get as much of each other as they could. They collapsed against the bed, Bayberry’s weight pushing Thistle into the mattress just the way he liked it. When they pulled apart, they were both panting for air.

“Will you be my forever, Thistle?” Bayberry whispered before placing tiny kisses at the corner of Thistle’s mouth.

“Yes, forever,” Thistle said, tears sliding down his face as he captured that elusive mouth in a hungry kiss of his own.

“I love you, Thistle.”

“I love you too, Bayberry.”

Then words weren’t needed or wanted. They spoke with hands and bodies, with deep kisses and long licks, until they lay in a tangled, sweaty, sated heap on Thistle’s bed. Thistle listened to the steady
tha-thump
of Bayberry’s heart beneath his ear and smiled. This truly was the best Yule ever.

31 stories of holiday love!

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

E.T. M
ALINOWSKI
is the youngest of seven girls. It was her love of reading that eventually led her to attempt writing. From there, a passion was born. She began writing romance in her early teens and, at that time, never dreamed of sharing her work with anyone. With the help of several dear friends, not to mention her ex-husband, she found the courage to take that last step towards publication.

As the single mother of three rambunctious boys, finding time to write is a bit difficult. Yet E.T. manages to do it, even if it’s on break or lunch at a regular day job. She has found her place in homoerotic romance. To her, love doesn’t recognize gender boundaries and is always special.

An avid reader, E.T. finds inspiration in all her favorite genres, from mainstream romance by her favorite authors to Japanese manga and anime. To her, even the classic fairy tales hold that spark of motivation and if there is one thing she has learned from her many years of writing solely for herself, it’s this: never deny the Muse, she gets cranky and pulls out the bullwhip.

E-mail: [email protected]

Blame It on the Cats

Hearth and Home

Kai for Christmas

A Midsummer Dream

The Oak Rings

Teacups and Roses

Unexpected

Published By
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Despite his misgivings, Christopher Albion is unable to turn down his employer and dear friend David’s request to care for yet another stray kitten. So Chris takes the tiny feline to the vet for a checkup, not expecting the visit to change his life. Waiting for him is veterinarian Dr. Anthony Vicario, who is just what Chris needs to find fulfillment in life. But when David finds out, he panics—worried he’ll lose his best friend. Chris now has his lover and his best friend, but Anthony and David will have to come to terms with both of them being important in Chris’s life.