“Yes. Kiss me!”
“And nice?”
I growl and stand up, hands under his thighs, so he’s forced to wrap his legs around my waist. He drapes his arms over my shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Now what?”
“Now, Small One, I’m going to show you my bedroom and we’re going to see if we can add some naughty to all that nice.”
I try to kiss him but he jerks his head back out of reach.
“Nope. You’ll drop me.”
“No, I won’t.” I don’t think.
“Let’s not find out.” That doesn’t stop him from squirming against me or burying his fingers in my hair and tugging on it. By the time we reach my room, I’m diamond hard and can feel a wet patch forming in my briefs. Against my belly, I can feel Boden’s cock, equally as hard.
I lower him to the bed and climb up over him. “Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”
“Because I didn’t let you kiss me.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“Yes, please.” The words, barely more than a whisper, are the best thing I’ve heard all day. I take his mouth, licking my way in and savoring the flavor of him. He tastes of chocolate and champagne and everything that is sweet and good about the world.
Boden pulls me down, demanding and frantic. His hands pull at my hair, my sweater, my belt. I take his hands in one of mine and hold them above his head while I unbutton his shirt.
“Don’t move.” I let go of his hands and remove the shirt, throwing it on the floor behind us. A pale blue thermal t-shirt is next; I yank it over his head and hands. It slithers to the ground on the other side of the bed.
I stand and undress with shaking hands, unable to take my eyes off him. His skin is smooth except for a line of pale fuzz stretching from his navel to disappear under his belt. His armpit hair is the same pale blonde, soft and almost as silky as the hair on his head. I bend down and kiss first one pit and then the other, breathing in the smell of him and reveling in the small choked sounds he makes. When I rise again to tug at my belt, he watches me, eyes wide and blown black with need, licking his lower lip.
I push my jeans and shorts off in one single movement and step out of them. Pre-cum trickles down the length of my cock and I smear it over my length, losing myself in the sensation for a moment. A gentle tap to my calf with his foot reminds me that Boden is waiting for attention.
He toes his shoes and socks off as I undo his belt and ease his slacks from him. A thong. A black, silk thong.
“I knew it.” I grin at the confusion that blooms in his eyes. “I had a bet with myself that you wore a thong.”
Boden pushes himself up on his elbows and quirks an eyebrow. “You’ve been thinking about my underwear?”
“Oh, not just your underwear, Small One.” I can see now that small doesn’t really apply - at least not to all of him. Smaller than me, yes, but bigger than average. The head of his cock is visible above the top of his thong and a small string of pre-cum stretches down to the skin of his belly. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. “Yesterday, I thought of a lot more than just your underwear when I was jerking off in here.”
He drops back on the bed and covers his eyes with his hands. “Why do you keep saying things like that?” The jerk of his hips and the pre-cum pearling at his tip tell a story of more than just embarrassment though.
“Because, Small One,” I press a kiss to the crease where his thigh joins his hip, “you like it.”
A shudder rolls through him, confirming my statement. I grip the thong, pull it down his legs, and drop the minuscule piece of fabric on his discarded slacks.
Kneeling on the edge of the bed, I run my hands up the insides of his thighs. Even here, the hair is soft. I rub my thumb over his sac, feeling his balls roll beneath my touch. He whimpers and grabs for the comforter.
I take just the head of his cock in my mouth, licking at the sweet-salty stickiness. I dig my tongue into the slit, wanting more. Boden bucks up, thrusting into my mouth. I take him all the way down before starting the whole process again with exaggerated slowness.
“Fudge,” he groans, and I grin around his shaft. Even when I’m sucking him off, he doesn’t curse.
As much as I’m tempted to keep going until he comes, I want more. I pull off with a loud, wet pop and push him a little further up on the bed. Ignoring my own cock for now, I settle back between his legs and suck first one ball and then the other into my mouth. He lets out a strangled cry that makes it impossible to not rub myself against the comforter. I release his balls and lick my way down his taint until I get to the soft, puckered skin around his hole. I sweep my tongue over the cleft of skin, the plunge my tongue in, licking and sucking until the muscle relaxes.
With reluctance, I stop and pull the drawer in the nightstand open. I grope blindly for lube and condoms and drop them on the bed.
“Turn on your side for me, Small One.” Experience has taught me this will be easier. I’m not small and I don’t want to hurt him. When he’s on his side, I move his top leg a little higher so I can see his hole again while I open the lube and squirt some over my fingertips.
I stretch out behind him, lips against his ear and stroke my fingers around the ring of muscle. I slide my free hand over his lower shoulder, pulling him to my chest, and scrape my thumbnail over his nipple. The flesh tightens beneath my touch.
I press my finger in, moaning at the tight heat that grips it. Taking my time, I search for his prostate, smiling at the way he jerks and shudders, his pleas turning to cries when I find it and press against it. A steady stream of pre-cum drips from his cock onto the comforter.
“Rorik, please.” He presses back, forcing my finger further in. I wait until he rocks forward and add a second finger, twisting and spreading them to stretch the muscle.
Boden’s entire body shudders and for a second I think I’ve made him come but I’m wrong. I ease my fingers free, find the condom and use my teeth to tear open the foil. Elves can get all the same illnesses Humans can and since we’ve both been active in that community, it’s not worth the risk. I roll it down over my cock and smooth lube over my length.
“Just relax, Small One.”
He whines as I push in past the guardian muscle and I force myself to take my time. Finally, he relaxes against me and bears down, letting me slide deeper.
“Fuck you feel good,” I murmur in his ear. He reaches back to grab my hand and yanks it around to his cock.
“Touch me. Please!”
The desperation in his voice is nearly my undoing. I recite capitals of the world in my head until I’m sure I have some control, then curl my fingers around his length. I press my lips to his shoulder and suck at the skin there. I admire the small red mark left behind as I match my strokes to my thrusts.
His head is thrown back against my shoulder, his eyes closed tight, lips parted. I rock forward and stretch down to kiss him, lost in the sounds he’s making, the feel of his skin against mine, the way his body feels clenching around me. The smell of us - of sweat and sex - fills the room.
I tighten my grip and stroke him faster.
“Rorik,” he moans. The warning in his voice sends a shiver of electricity down my spine and I feel my orgasm gathering. His fingers close over mine and he cries out. Hot cum spills over our joined hands and it’s all I need to lose what little hold I have on control.
“Fuck,” I growl against his shoulder, my hips jerking forward as my balls draw up tight and my cock pulses and throbs within him. I bury my face against his neck, overwhelmed by the intensity.
As the storm of sensation passes, I ease myself from his body and stand up.
“Don’t move,” I tell him again. The only response is a dazed sounding grunt. I go to the bathroom, deal with the condom, and clean myself up. Rinse the cloth and return to him. I wipe him clean, taking care around his hole when he hisses at my touch, and toss the cloth in the hamper. “You need to stand up for me for a moment.”
“Don’t wann
a.”
“I know, but trust me, you don’t want to fall asleep in that mess either.”
Grumbling, he heaves himself to his feet. I was right about his bedhead; it’s adorable. He shivers a little, rubbing his eyes, and for all the world looking a good deal younger than he is, as I strip off the comforter and replace it with a clean one from the cupboard. I turn the sheets back.
“Come on, in you get.” I guide him into the bed and climb in next to him.
“You want me to stay the night?” His words disappear into a yawn. I spoon up behind him, loving the warm feel of him in my arms, and kiss the base of his neck.
“Why wouldn’t I? Go to sleep, Small One.”
“Not small,” he mumbles, already mostly asleep.
I tighten my hold on him and smile. “Shhh, go to sleep.”
BODEN
I stretch and yawn, feeling lazy and contented. From the other side of the bed, where he’s tucked under Rorik’s arm, Button woofs at me and wags his tail.
“Shhhh, you’ll wake him up.” I bury my nose in Rorik’s hair. Usually, he’s the first awake but Christmas is only a few days away and he’s been working almost around the clock.
Button, looking shameless, woofs again and thumps his tail harder against the mattress. He probably wants to pee. There’s a special flap in the back door - Rorik had promptly asked why I didn’t just buy a barn and be done with it when he’d first seen it - for him, so I decide to take one for the team and lift Rorik’s arm, so the oversized goofball can get up.
It takes a little bit of prying. Rorik’s hold on him - both figuratively and literally - has intensified over the past two weeks and there is something touching and beautiful about watching such a big man cling to him in sleep.
Just as he wriggles free, Button releases a happy yip and Rorik stirs.
“I’m awake,” he mumbles. He rolls over and pulls me into his arms. Button trots off down the hall; I hear the flap as it swings up.
“You sure about that?” I snuggle down, pulling the comforter up over my shoulders.
“Mmmhmmm.”
I run my fingers through the thick hair on his chest, inching them toward his nipple. Just as I’m about to flick the nub with my finger, Rorik closes his hand over mine and lifts one eyelid.
“If you start playing with the volume control, Small One, things are going to get loud in here.”
I smother a laugh against his chest. Rorik not only loves having his nipples played with, I’ve discovered, but he becomes very vocal and very loud. Not that he’s all that quiet the rest of the time, but the effect is so dramatic when I play with his nipples that I’ve taken to referring to them as Volume Control buttons.
We haven’t spent every night here over the last two weeks. Some of them have been in Poinsettia Place. On those nights, I pick up Button and take him with me. He’s already learned to go straight to Astrid’s kitchen where she stuffs him full of all kinds of treats, including home-baked dog biscuits. My dog is going to be the size of a small tank soon.
In just two days though, it will be Christmas Eve and Rorik will need to do what he refers to as his rounds. He’ll put on The Suit, take his lists and the presents and The Sleigh - that I’m still pretending to not be interested in - and be Santa Claus.
I know it’s ridiculous but as exciting as it all is, I’m dreading being apart. What if he decides while he’s gone that he’s had enough of me? That it’s time to move on? Yes, I know it’s only been two weeks and I have no right to be feeling any of the things I’m feeling but… I can’t help it. So, I’ve decided to just enjoy each day and be grateful for whatever time I get with him.
“Where are you, Small One?” He brushes his lips over my forehead.
“Hmmm?”
“You did that disappearing thing again.”
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about a client.” Not strictly a lie; Rorik is still technically a client.
“Oh?”
The opportunity to tease him is too good to resist. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a problem case actually. Completely technophobic, can’t even change the ring tone on his cell, so we have to listen to these awful bells jingling all the time.”
Rorik digs his fingers into my side. “I don’t know why you and your cousin think you’re funny, but I have news for you both.”
I have no clue how he got into the conversation but the last person I want to think about right now is Lars. Pushing myself up on my elbow, I tug at his chest hair again.
“Hungry?”
“I could eat an Elf.”
I roll my eyes. “I meant breakfast.”
“So did I.”
Laughing, I move to get up, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back down into his arms.
“Stay. I want to ask you something.” The laughter is gone from his eyes, replaced with a seriousness I haven’t seen before. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
“Excuse me?’
“Christmas, you know that big day we’ve been preparing for, for the past few weeks?” He grins when I poke my tongue at him. “Are you staying here or going to South End?”
“Why on earth would I go to South End?”
“To see your parents?”
I snort. “Dad will be stoned, and Mom will be working. I usually go to see her in the new year, and we do something together. We’re not a very Christmassy family.”
Rorik raises an eyebrow. “Which begs the question, Small One, why you are with me?” With him? Am I with him? Oh, I hope that’s what I am. He strokes my hair and gives me a small smile. “I’ve never asked anybody this before, but I was wondering if you’d like to maybe come with me on The Sleigh? We start preparing tomorrow night and then leave early on Christmas Eve. Around one in the morning.”
Startled, I sit up and stare at him, open-mouthed.
“Seriously?” I finally manage to stammer. Go with him? In The Sleigh? “You’ve never asked anyone before? Why not?”
“That’s all you got out of that?”
“No, of course not. But, really, you’ve never asked anyone before?”
Rorik wants to take me on The Sleigh and he’s never asked anyone before. That must mean he’s serious right? Right? Am I jumping the gun? Probably. Do I care? Not especially.
“Well, I’ve just never met anyone I wanted to take with me before.” He kisses the tip of my nose. I love it when he does that.
“Until now?”
“Until now.”
“And you want me to go with you?” On. The. Sleigh.
Eyes twinkling, he nods. “I know you’re not that interested in it, but I thought maybe - unnffff.”
Kisses, I have found, are a good way to stop him from talking.
***
At four o’clock, I decide there’s no choice but to replace the Point of Sale system at the Sparkle and Shine beauty salon with a new one. The current one is functioning well enough now to hold them over Christmas, but I have done all I can for today on the thing.
I pack up, hug Marta the owner, and head out into the cold. A light snow is falling, I turn my collar up against the chill and wind my scarf around my neck - Rorik’s scarf actually. He loaned it to me one day and I have somehow conveniently forgotten to give it back. It smells like him.
It takes around fifteen minutes to get to The Laughing Troll by which time I can no longer feel the tip of my nose or my ears, scarf or no scarf. Rorik said he’ll meet me here at five, we’ll pick up Button and my clothes for the next few days, then go back to Poinsettia Place.
Tomorrow we’re going on The Sleigh.
After hanging my scarf and coat up, I stand by the fireplace for a few minutes to thaw out before heading to the bar.
Lars comes out of the kitchen and grins when he sees me. I gave him grief for a few days about the stupid promise until Rorik insisted he’d suffered enough, and I stopped.
“Hey, Boden.” He looks around the room. “You alone? Where’s your keeper? I’m surprised he let you out of his sight.”
“Go sit on a shelf somewhere and annoy someone else. He’ll be here in about an hour.” I order hot chocolate and we chat for a while until he has to go and serve customers at the other end of the Inn.
I sip the drink slowly, letting its warmth heat me from the inside out, watching as the Inn begins to fill up with regulars. Pascal Hare arrives with an entourage, blows me a kiss, and goes to his usual corner to hold court. Leif Amias sits next to me for about fifteen minutes, sipping a glass of champagne and giving a gloomy commentary on the state of love in the modern world. Eventually, he pays Lars, hiccups goodbye to me and leaves, shoulders hunched.
A short, rotund Elf with a check shirt stretched over his bulging belly and a blue bow tie peeking out from beneath his jowls takes his place. He hauls himself up onto the bar stool with some difficulty, puffing and panting an order to Lars for hot cider.
“Be with you in a minute, Basil.”
Basil? Oh God, is this that Basil? Rorik’s Basil? Computer Killer Basil? Something tells me it is. Oh… Christmas Cakes. Now what? Should I talk to him? Ignore him? Go and find somewhere else to sit? I’m still trying to make up my mind when he pulls his bowtie off, drops it next to my hand on the countertop, and turns to face me.
“You’re the new kid, aren’t you?”
“New kid?”
“Rorik’s latest squeeze.”
Oh. Right. Instead of answering I give him an awkward half smile and check my phone.
“Yeah, I thought so.” His drink arrives and he takes a long swig, then lets out a loud belch. I remember the crumbs in the server housing and shudder. “You’re looking after his network now as well as his nookie, aren’t you?”
“Basil, knock it off.” Lars gives him a warning look.
“Just trying to make conversation.” Basil swivels around on his stool to face me. A cloud of body odor and alcohol wafts over from him; clearly, this wasn’t his first stop. “Hope you’re wrapping it up well, kid, he likes to get around.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Lars slams his hand down on the counter. My cup jumps and rattles in the saucer. “That’s my brother-in-law and his boyfriend, you’re talking about, so show a little respect.”
Naughty & Nice: A Holiday Storybook Novella Page 5