The Twelve Disasters of Christmas

by J P Sayle

  Aaden’s chuckle shifted his head, making Greg squint in the darkness. Regretting it instantly, he moaned into Aaden’s chest. A large, gentle hand cupped the back of his head, rubbing in slow circles. Greg gave a sigh of pleasure. His lips curled up as Aaden lulled him into the land of Nod.

  Max strolled in through the cat flap and prowled through the house, lost in thought. His whiskers twitched at the tension radiating from the lounge. Sticking his head around the door, he saw the four men, all sitting on the plastic-covered, charcoal-grey leather furniture. He watched Aaden get up, followed by Martin and then Stuart. He sat down on the bare floorboards, watching them pace and fret over their significant others.

  He turned his attention to Brody, who was still sitting. But who wasn’t as unaffected as he led the others to believe. His tapping fingers showed his agitation at Nick’s disappearance.

  Max chuckled, thinking they were fussing like mother hens over their chicks. Only all their chicks had fled their nests and were currently out somewhere, getting up to Odin’s Raven knew what.

  “Why don’t you just use your link to Greg? It should allow you to go and find them.” Max huffed when Aaden turned. He blinked, his forehead wrinkled, while his eyes darkened.

  “Why the hell didn’t you mention this before? You know, like when Martin and Stuart rushed over here in a panic when neither Brad nor Joe would pick up their phones?” Aaden’s anger rolled off Max’s back.

  He’d bigger fish to fry, and that didn’t include worrying about Aaden getting in a snit with him.

  “I would have, but as I wasn’t here”—Max rolled his shoulders—“how could I? It’s a pity. I think I would have enjoyed watching you lot chase your own tails.”

  “Ha fucking ha.” Aaden’s grumble was half-hearted as he sat. The rustling of plastic had Martin and Stuart stop pacing.

  Shutting his eyes, Aaden blocked the others in the room when they started asking questions he couldn’t answer, yet. Feeling for his connection with Greg, he let his mind focus on the colourful rainbow that was Greg’s aura.

  Max’s gums peeled back. His sharp teeth gleamed under the brightly lit room when Aaden jumped up minutes later. His declaration that the boys were at the Bath and Bottle cocktail bar had several questions fired at him. Max hissed, stopping all questions, allowing Aaden to deflect them better than any world-class goalkeeper.

  Aaden led them out of the house to their respective vehicles. The grumbling about Aaden’s weird behaviour had Max wonder if this would also be another strike against him.

  Max didn’t hear Aaden’s quick thank you when his body bowed up. His heckles rose as a voice slithered into his consciousness.

  “Well, lover, have you made up your mind?”

  Max acknowledged Christina as she shimmered to life in front of him. He kept his small features bland, hiding his irritation.

  Why do I always feel like I’m on the back foot?

  On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

  The joiner and the spell

  19th December

  Nick hummed to the radio playing in the background. He lifted the piece of British elm wood he’d been sanding by hand. He examined the door before removing his mask, pleased with the smooth finish. He brushed at the dust clinging to his face before walking to the back wall of the kitchen. His booted feet waded through the wood shaving scattered about the floor, creating a mess with every step.

  He gave the six new cabinets a grunt of approval as he moved to the final cupboard in the row. It had taken hours of discussion to persuade Aaden that the British elm wood would be perfect for his kitchen. Aaden had wanted something darker, but Nick had argued the lighter wood would make the space feel bigger. With the new large patio doors fitted along the back wall, it had opened up the space, especially with Aaden knocking out the old pantry. That space now housed the hand-crafted bench he’d made as a housewarming gift. Not that the fucker deserved it for the subterfuge. He was now going to have to make a table to match it, so Aaden and Greg could have a breakfast nook that looked out on the garden.

  Nick sighed at the amount of work he’d still left to do

  He placed the door inside the elm wood frame and checked the alignment. He gave himself a small pat on the back when it fit perfectly. He cast his gaze around the newly fitted dark brown, gold-flecked marble tops, searching for the screwdriver and hinges he needed. The messy state of the work counters had him growl.

  Aaden was supposed to be in here helping, keeping things tidy so he could find what he needed. But no, where is the big fucker, driving Greg to work.

  A Greg who hadn’t been able to get out of bed yesterday due to an epic hangover and throbbing head from the two black eyes he now sported. Nick scowled at the cupboard door. His shoulders drooped at the thought of his friend’s misery.

  It would seem Vic had a better punch than any of them had thought. A punch that must have landed just right because when Aaden had woken, his shout had both Nick and Brody charging into their bedroom to see what the fuss was about. The minutes-long rant Aaden had while he’d thrown clothes on had Greg gripping his head.

  All the while, Aaden appeared to be on a mission. A mission that was all about inflicting harm on Vic for marking his redheaded beauty so badly. The battle he and Brody had to stop Aaden had left him with a headache and a very angry brother.

  He was so lost in trying to calm Aaden down it had at least momentarily made him forget his own problems with a certain someone. A certain someone, who had stood in his brother’s bedroom, with next to nothing on, sporting more muscles than the Rock. It was difficult for him to get his mouth to function when his tongue had become glued to the roof of his mouth.

  Nick sighed in frustration. His head still ached, making the impulse to stop and go upstairs a real possibility. Well, that was if he wasn’t such a scaredy cat about bumping into Brody.

  When is Brody going to go home?

  Days, days he’d been here, being all helpful and oozing sex appeal all over the place. Even in his scruff, he couldn’t hide how fucking stunning he was. And wasn’t that the fucking issue.

  He was convinced that’s why he’d lost his marbles on Sunday night. The night came back to him in vivid clarity.

  Nick’s eyes widened, never wavering from the posse coming up behind Vic. A posse that resembled a bunch of gunslingers the way they’d swaggered through the bar towards them. Nick’s mouth froze midrant, and he licked his dry lips.

  Oh good God! Why did they have to turn up now?

  Nick ignored the sudden tightening in his jeans at seeing a certain someone, all macho and posturing behind his brother. He wasn’t sure how much they’d heard of the stuff Vic had been spouting off. The hurtful comments about his fem appearance stung, and the thought of Brody hearing them made him want to cringe.

  It took all his effort to blank his features. He sat listening to Vic make a complete arse of himself in front of everyone while Nick’s mind was busy trying to figure out why Brody was there.

  He was not sure how or why he’d meekly obeyed Brody after he’d demanded he follow him to his car. But yet there he was. He couldn’t fathom how twenty minutes later they were in the car park at Glen Wyllin beach. A stoic Brody sat silently next to him.

  Nick groaned when his mind flooded with the scene that had followed in the car. The same scene that had been on repeat for two days. His body didn’t know which way was up, revving to go since he’d got back to Aaden’s, in the early hours of Monday morning.

  “Why have we stopped? We aren’t home.” Nick gave Brody a quick glance, trying to get his alcohol-controlled libido under control. The scent of Brody’s aftershave seemed to fill the car, making every breath torture, when his cock begged to come out and bathe in that smell.

  “I think we need to have a little chat, don’t you? This tension between us, we need to resolve it, squirt.”

  The sexy timbre had Nick’s body firing on all cylinders while his brain tried to grasp
why all of a sudden he felt his anger build.

  “Will you stop with the fucking ‘squirt’ crap.” Nick bellowed.

  He found his face inches from Brody’s, not even sure when he’d moved. His alcohol-laden breath heaved out, mingling with Brody’s. “This is why there’s tension between us. You”—Nick drilled his finger into Brody’s dark coat—“calling me stupid names.”

  Nick didn’t acknowledge the voice that told him he secretly liked it. He wasn’t going there he’d promised himself, especially not now when he could feel his sexual frustration and anger building. The years of longing, of wanting what he couldn’t have, pushed at the tight leash he always held when Brody was around.

  His hand flattened on Brody’s broad chest. He was not sure why he was still trying to provoke him. “I’m not a child, and I haven’t been for many years…”

  “I know you’re not a fucking child, for fuck’s sake.” Brody’s angry interruption had Nick still.

  The sparks of Brody’s temper fizzed between them. Knowing he’d gone too far, Nick went to pull back only to find his seat belt unclipped before he was hauled unceremoniously across the car into Brody’s lap. The feel of the steering wheel digging into his side and hip distracted him for a second before hot, moist breath coated his lips and his mouth was crushed in a soul-searing kiss. His mind shut down under the onslaught of desire that pulsed to life between them.

  Nick felt the air trap inside his chest, but he was unwilling to move when warm hands cupped his cheeks. Firm lips nudged his, encouraging him to open. His mind screamed that this was a mistake. The cloud of desire smothered the screams. The temptation was too much to resist after all this time, and he opened up. The taste of something spicy lingered on Brody’s tongue, along with a faint hint of garlic as it swept into his mouth, making him want to drown under the attack of sensations that rocked through his body.

  Nick moaned.

  He writhed against the hardness he could feel growing under his backside. His mind yelled at him to stop, that this was a mistake, even as Brody thrust up into Nick’s backside, making his arse clench in anticipation. The feel of his silk rubbing against his sensitive, heated flesh had common sense prevail.

  Nick tugged his head back a centimetre when large, rough palms held him still. Nick tried to pull back further and suck in some air. Air, he hoped, that would help ease the ache in his chest and the rushing noise in his ears.

  He felt Brody finally relent. His grip relaxed, allowing Nick to move his head.

  Unable to get any space, Nick found his gaze trapped in Brody’s brooding eyes. The sliver of moonlight in the dark sky cast shadows in the car and over Brody’s face. He couldn’t get a read on him, and he felt at a loss when Brody said nothing.

  Nick heaved a sigh before shifting back into his seat. He silently buckled up and faced forward. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not when Brody didn’t stop him.

  The sound of the engine broke the heavy silence that stretched, making the nerves in his stomach tighten unbearably.

  Now what?

  Nick didn’t know how many times he’d asked that question. Brody, on the other hand, wandered around acting like nothing had happened.

  It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. I still can’t stop the memory from fucking with me.

  Nick faltered. His hands trembled. His thoughts shut down when he heard the sound of footfall on the bare wooden stairs coming from the hall.

  He braced himself. Although he avoided looking over at the doorway, he knew who it was. The heady scent of Brody’s aftershave was already wafting around him with the scent of wood shaving. His cock sat up, making him want to groan out loud when it begged for attention it hadn’t got yesterday. He barely resisted the urge to give his cock a thump.

  Nick glared down at the offending article.

  Haven’t you got me in enough bother?

  He gripped the door with one hand and tried to nudge his cock into a more comfortable position just as Brody walked into the room. The sultry gleam in Brody’s grey-green eyes as he licked his firm lips did little to help Nick’s cause. He felt his cheeks flame. The memories of those lips and what they could do to his mouth were enough to make him want to beg for another taste, another touch.

  Nick gave himself a mental shake, hoping that would stop his wayward thoughts. He totally blamed his new-found raging horny hormones on Joe, Greg, and Brad’s talk of voyeurism. The more he’d thought about it.

  It has to be that.

  They’d stolen all his common sense. The sense of desperation that went with that thought had his brows dig together as he stared at the door in front of him.

  He tried to rationalise the lack of action his cock had seen since he’d dumped his last boyfriend several months ago. It was all conspiring against him. To culminate in one hard-as-nails, pissed-off cock. That now seemed desperate for anyone to touch it.

  No. The little voice in the back of his head reminded. Not just anyone, only a certain someone, who was now standing less than ten feet away.

  The bold nudge his cock gave against his zipper when Brody’s scent increased had Nick wanting to bang his head on something hard, in the hopes it would knock some sense back into him.

  He stilled when he heard, then felt Brody move closer. Nick felt heat at his back. He inhaled, licking his suddenly dry lips. Nick held his breath, praying Brody wouldn’t touch him whilst also praying he would.

  As he felt his needs wage war inside him, it took a second to register the tingling sensation invading his body as he found his fingers slackening on the door he was holding, against his will. He gave a silent curse, knowing it was too late to stop her when the door crashed to the floor. Said same door then decided to use his foot as a stopper. It bounced hard before slamming into the floorboards with a loud clatter.

  “Fucking hell, you shitting bastard,” Nick yelled. Pain exploded up his leg. He hopped backwards and kicked the door in the process with his injured foot. He forgot Brody was behind him, and his body slammed into Brody’s large compact chest while his backside was cupped by his groin.

  Nick wanted to whimper at the feel of all that hardness touching him, but the throbbing in his foot wouldn’t be ignored.

  He pushed off Brody and hobbled with as much dignity as he could muster to the carved wooden elm bench, which sat in the corner of the room. His brain struggled to keep up with the overload of pain that each step caused. He cursed under his breath with every step he took.

  Nick plonked his backside down and peeled off his boot and sock. His stomach lurched, and the Pepsis he’d drunk, instead of having breakfast, sloshed under the movement, making his throat burn.

  His foot swelled right before his eyes. The lovely shades of black spreading across his toes made the urge to cry harder to quell. He gave Brody a teary-eyed, mournful look.

  Nick winced at the sound of the front door slamming into the hall wall, followed by the noise of ten thousand elephants stomping. Or that’s what it felt like when a bellowing Aaden thundered into the kitchen.

  “What the hell happened? I could hear you shouting outside.”

  He was not sure he was quite ready to release his lip for fear he’d cry like a big baby. And to do that in front of Brody was so not happening.

  Nick watched Aaden drop to the filthy floor in front of him when he didn’t answer but pointed to his foot instead.

  “Fucking hell, Nick! What on earth did you do? This looks like it might be broken.”

  As Aaden spoke, he gently cupped his left foot, examining it. Not giving him a chance to answer, he barrelled on.

  “I’ll need to take you to the hospital so we can get this looked at.”

  Nick wanted to sigh when Brody answered for him, explaining to Aaden about what had happened. Nick knew Brody’s explanation wasn’t actually what happened. But he didn’t argue, because… How the hell did you explain that a certain little witch had made him drop the door, not without sounding like he was losing it?

&n
bsp; Nick sighed. Hunching, he opened his mouth to speak when Aaden looked expectantly at Brody. Before he could get the words out, Aaden spoke first to Brody.

  “Can we use your car? I’m not sure our vans are the best transportation. He’ll need to keep his foot elevated so it doesn’t swell anymore.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I’ll get Nick a jacket and grab my keys. I’ll drive if you direct me.”

  Nick felt steamrollered when Aaden wouldn’t listen to his protests after Brody left the room. Brody’s smirk when he returned told him he’d heard the conversation.

  Nick ground his teeth together when Aaden lifted him into the back of Brody’s car. He tried to stop the shout of pain at Aaden jostling his foot. He thrust a fist into his mouth to still the urge to yelp.

  Brody put the car in reverse when Aaden got in. He stemmed his need to repeat that he would be fine if they just left him alone, knowing it was a waste of his breath. And it would be a complete lie, a lie he wasn’t sure he could keep up when his foot seemed to grow right before his eyes.

  The trip seemed to take forever, but they finally pulled into the overflowing car park.

  “Shit, there aren’t any parks. Aaden, I’ll carry Nick in if you go and find a park.” Brody’s barked command as he stopped the car had both Nick and Aaden turn towards him.

  “Why, he’s my brother. I’ll carry him in.” Aaden’s brow furrowed as he argued.

  Nick wasn’t sure why Aaden was getting cross. Now him, that was a completely different matter. Before he got a chance to say anything, he was lifted out of the car by a resolute Brody.

  Nick fought the smile that wanted to sneak past his anger at Aaden storming round the side of the car.

  “I said I’d take him.” Aaden’s angry growl did little to stop Brody.

  Nick felt Aaden yank on Brody’s arm, trying to get him to release his firm grip.

  Nick quirked up his eyebrows at the tug of war between his brother and Brody.