ChristmasInHisHeart (10 page)

He stood and slid his arms around Dermot. “Oh yes, I did…and I’ve got a lot more where that came from.” He fused their lips together.

It was an awkward dance Dermot choreographed, but Xander was impressed with how they ended up on the bed with him on the bottom and Dermot wedged between his legs rubbing their cocks together while never breaking their kiss. His chef had mad skills.

He hooked his arms around Dermot and grabbed that fucking perfect ass that starred in over half of his fantasies, running his finger down the crease while bucking up against his lover’s firm stomach. When his finger ghosted over Dermot’s hole, they groaned in unison.

“God, I want that,” Xander mumbled against Dermot’s mouth.

“Mmm.” Dermot slid down Xander’s body, paying homage to his neck and shoulder, then collarbone and chest before latching on to one of Xander’s hard nipples.

“Yeah…want this too.”

“Mmm.”

After both of Xander’s nipples felt on fire, Dermot took his slap and tickle show lower, dancing in and out of Xander’s belly button before nipping his hipbone while spreading his legs wider.

“Shit, you know I want this…been waiting for it for too long.”

The now familiar “Mmm” followed his statement without delay.

“You’re a great conversationalist, you know that?” He chuckled, whether it was from his attempt at a joke or the tongue drawing circles on his sensitive inner thigh, Xander wasn’t sure.

“Mmm,” was his only warning before Dermot spread his ass cheeks and suctioned his lips over Xander’s pucker.

“Fuck.” Xander shouted before his vocabulary suddenly left him and only babbling nonsense came out of his mouth.

The slick feel of Dermot’s tongue slowly dragging over his hypersensitive opening caused Xander’s leg to twitch. He pulled both his knees to his chest to open up more for his lover’s touch. Dermot speared that phenomenal muscle of his in and out of Xander, wiggling it around and forcing him to loosen up.

Xander’s ass might be relaxing, but every other part of his body was pulled tight and tense. “Fuck me, Dermot, stop playing,” he growled.

Dermot stood over him with a conflicted look on his face. Before Xander could ask him what was wrong—
please god don’t let there be anything wrong right now
—Dermot smacked his thigh and told him to turn over.

Quick to comply, Xander flipped onto his stomach while Dermot rifled through the bedside drawer. Something small dropped on the bed beside him but Xander didn’t have a chance to look before his ankles were grabbed and he was dragged to the end of the bed, feet on the ground and ass in the air.

Cold lube drizzled over his hole before two digits expediently rubbed it into the skin. The gentle fingers left, then returned with more lube, this time entering and twisting around inside him.

Xander pushed back against the intrusion, loving the fleeting burn and fullness those fingers provoked. All too soon they disappeared and his empty ass objected by clenching around nothing but air. Xander barely heard a ripping sound over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

When the spongy hard head of Dermot’s latex covered cock pressed against those needy muscles, Xander’s body eagerly swallowed it up. Dermot pressed into him with a slow but steady pace. When his sac bounced against Xander’s, he knew his lover was fully seated inside him, and it felt incredible.

But Dermot wasn’t moving, and the waiting killed Xander’s patience—what little he had. “Move. Fuck me, damn it.”

Dermot pulled almost all the way out before replying, “Pushy bottom.” Then all bets were off.

Xander pushed back with every stroke forward Dermot provided. They collaborated like old lovers finally reunited, as if they could foresee each other’s moves and responded in kind. Dermot had no problem pegging Xander’s prostate regularly. In turn, Xander had no problem blessing him verbally every time.

Sweat covered Xander’s body. He wanted to jack himself off in time with the grueling thrusts punishing his ass, but Dermot suddenly collapsed onto his back, pinning his cock into the mattress. About to cry out in desperation, Xander needed some sort of friction on his painfully hard dick, when Dermot grabbed his shoulders for leverage to assist with the vicious snaps of his hips to and fro. The added weight on Xander’s back created the perfect pressure against his erection, and only a few thrusts later, he clenched his fists in the comforter as he cried out in orgasm.

His muscles tightened around the fucking pole in his ass, and he could feel Dermot fight against them with every movement in and out. Hot breath hit the back of Xander’s neck, tongue and teeth grazing his skin. Suddenly Dermot propped his knee on the bed and entered Xander deeply a couple more times before shouting out his release.

A muted warmth teased Xander’s insides, and for the first time ever, he had a burning desire to experience this act of affection—or dare he say love—without a barrier between him and his partner.

They lay there together, trying to remember how to breathe. Xander flinched when Dermot gently extracted himself, his ass muscles so sensitive that the lightest brush over them caused ripples up and down Xander’s body.

He turned over and lay there more than content and worn out, watching every move his suddenly cautious again lover made.

Dermot carefully peeled off the condom and tossed it in the wastebasket, went into the bathroom for a few moments, then came out and stood there staring.

Xander Cheshire cat smiled.

“What?” Dermot said, slightly defensive.

“Remember our deal, you’re not allowed to kick me out.” He stood and slowly walked toward his boyfriend. “Which means we can nap now, because it is still quite early, then later when we wake up, we can play some more…and we can continue this pattern well into the night, because neither of us is going to work early tomorrow.”

Chapter Ten

In a little more than one short week, they had developed habits. For instance, Xander had adopted the habit of walking down to Prudence’s and getting Dermot his decadent Peppermint Latte every morning.

And Dermot had begun to slip over to Craft Time at about eleven every day with a boxed lunch for the two of them to share. He adored the way Xander’s face lit up at the sight of the box, and nothing got him as hot and bothered as the incredibly sensual, voracious appetite Xander displayed. He unwrapped every item from the box with all the excitement of a child on…Christmas morning. Sandwiches, soups, casseroles, salads, he loved them all and made the most disgustingly arousing noises Dermot had ever heard when he devoured them.

For that reason, Dermot insisted that they take the lunches upstairs to his own apartment rather than eating in Shawna’s break room.

“It’s not that she gives me the evil eye,” he explained to Xander breathlessly as they darted out the back door of Craft Time past a rickety gutter and into the back entrance of
Alimentaire
, “it’s that I feel like I’m on a porn set every time you eat my food.”

Xander blinked, a slow, provocative smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Is that a euphemism?”

Dermot snorted. “Euphemism for what?”

“I already told you I adore your sausage.”

He cast a swift glance down the narrow, dark hall to the kitchens. He had three employees on site today: Macy, Chaz, who had recovered from his flu, and Percy, a temp he’d discovered fishing through the Dumpsters the week before who was willing to bus tables in exchange for meals, minimum wages, and a share of Macy’s tips. “Oh for the love of…” No one was there, but that didn’t mean they wouldn't be. “Upstairs, now,” he ground out. Hard as it was to be angry with Xander, Dermot couldn't help but feel their time was precious.

It was Thursday, the restaurant's slow day, but lately there hadn’t been too many slow days, and it was getting harder to steal away, even early for a lunch date with Xander.

Xander sobered immediately. “Sorry, Dermot. What’s wrong?”

They trooped up the stairs, Dermot trying to figure out what to say to avoid upsetting Xander, who seemed to have all the patience in the world.

“Well, um…” He’d got the door opened and revealed the lunch box set on the small dining table. A bottle of sparkling water and two glasses sat with it.

“Ooh…” Xander bounced, actually bounced, across the room. Dermot was amazed he didn’t bump his head on the ceiling, he seemed so euphoric. “What are we having today? I loved those Greek inspired chicken sliders you had last Friday. Did I tell you how much I liked those?”

Pride…and all kinds of other crazy things swirled around in Dermot’s heart and head. How could he be so lucky as to have found a man who got that he wasn’t into Christmas but he was still a good person? Feeding Xander had quickly become his favorite thing to do. That he was talented as a chef, he had no doubt—that that talent was worthless if Xander didn’t love what he’d made?

Well, he had no idea how that had come to be.

“Yes.” He beamed at Xander, urging his lover with hand gestures to the table. “Thank you. It went over really well as the lunch special yesterday too. I’m considering making them a regular in the rotation.” At least, he was if the price of chicken stayed low and the level of business stayed steady after the holiday season. Right now? He was tentatively hopeful that they wouldn’t have to lay anyone off after all.

“You should…oooh…” Xander’s face lit up as he sat on one of the mismatched flea market chairs Dermot was going to get around to refurbishing…someday. “It smells like… mac and cheese?” Eagerly he reached for the cardboard box and started unpacking containers. He extracted and arranged two hot mini-casserole dishes and two foil wrapped breadsticks.

“I hope you like it.” Dermot watched indulgently, pouring them both a glass of the sparkling water.

Xander picked up a knife and pried up the lid of one of the containers. The rich, enticing scent of bacon and cheese escaped in the cloud of steam. Xander inhaled dramatically.

“Oh…my…god. Bacon…You made me bacon. You must love me.”

Dermot inhaled sharply. His hand shook on the water bottle. He set it down with a clatter, his gaze flying to Xander’s face, but Xander, as always, was one hundred percent absorbed in his food, sniffing it, eyes rolling back in his head, mouth parted moistly. Dermot released that breath, relaxing. It might be okay for him to suspect that after a week or such of constant contact he’d become dependent on Xander’s company, come to love curling up with him in bed and watching Diners, Drive-ins and Dives or some other show in back to back Netflix marathons.

It might be okay for him to suspect that he was in love with the big goof, but he wasn’t ready to share that, not with anyone, even the man himself.

It felt too personal, and he kind of wasn’t ready to believe it yet. What if he went around telling everyone and then discovered that it was just temporary, like gas or indigestion bubbling around inside instead of something that was a forever thing?

Or Xander decided, like his predecessors, that Christmas was more important than he’d thought?

“It’s bacon mac and cheese, with gruyere and a bit of fontina,” he said, seating himself and opening his own lunch blindly while Xander picked up his fork and hummed happily, taking a huge bite of the steaming casserole. “Careful you don’t burn yourself!”

“M’sorry. S’good,” Xander mumbled with his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed. “Sorry, it’s just that we’re so busy, I can’t really take a long lunch today. I hate to eat and run, but with the season picking up, we’ve got so many craft classes going on, and delivery trucks coming in…I hired some part-timers, but I don’t want to add anyone else to the payroll with only three weeks to go before the January lull hits. What did you want to talk about? I have time to listen. I can chew and listen, I think.” He glanced down worshipfully at his lunch, and that pride, the warm glow of accomplishment melted Dermot’s insides all over again.

“That’s what I was going to say.” Dermot was relieved that Xander seemed to be in the same position. “It’s getting so busy. We’re finding crowds outside when we open at eleven. I’m going to start opening at ten and stop closing at two, at least until the season ends.”

“That’s great! Business must be booming. I hardly ever see an empty table in the dining room.”

Dermot nodded. “The takeout idea you had is awesome too. Our lunch boxes are selling as fast as Chaz can put them together.” He took the bull by the horns. “But it will mean that I can’t really bring you lunch at eleven anymore.”

Xander nodded, wiping cheese sauce from his lip. “I love your food, almost as much as I love you, but it’s okay. I’ll survive coming over and picking up my own lunch for a few weeks until everything calms down again.”

Dermot pouted. Why? It was exactly what he needed to hear. Oh… “But then I won’t see you.” He’d be in the kitchens, his favorite place to be, yes, but not when Xander was in the dining room, eating his food. “I thought I could bring your lunch over at two.”

“I thought you were staying open at two? Won’t you be too busy?”

The hope, the pleasure, the eagerness for his company that Xander felt was so clear in his words and the way his shining eyes latched onto Dermot’s face that Dermot ached with the urge to blurt out that I love you he’d held back before. “No, we’ll probably have enough business, but not so much that Chaz, Macy, and Percy won’t be able to handle everything.”

They ate in silence, but it was comfortable. Appeasing their appetites for food while the ever present sexual hunger simmered between them.

“Dermot?”

“Yes?” He looked up from contemplating Xander’s lip, where another drop of creamy cheese had fallen astray. If he leaned forward, he could lick it away, but would Xander freak out over that? Probably not. Dermot leaned forward…ready to put action to the thought, but Xander’s tongue flicked over his lips and swiped the morsel of sauce away. Dermot groaned.

“Oh…the way you look at me…” Xander’s voice had grown harsh and deep. “Damn! I have to get back to work. But I wanted to ask…Will you come to my place tonight?”