O Come, All Ye Kellys

by Olsen, Isla

  I let out a harsh groan as he fills me, my legs coming up to wrap around his waist. It’s reminiscent of the first time Blake made me dinner after work—our first ‘date’. It feels like such a long time ago now, and so much has changed. I’m no longer closeted, and Blake is no longer just my brother’s best friend or a guy I connected with through a computer game. He’s my husband. The love of my life. The man I plan to grow old with, start a family with. I’d like to say I no longer get anxiety, or care what strangers think about us, but that’s not entirely true. What I can say is I no longer let any of my hang-ups dictate my life.

  “Jesus Christ, O…” Blake groans.

  “Harder, daddy,” I cry, my hands clinging tight to his hair. “Fuck, make it hurt!”

  His response to that is to grab my legs and toss them over his shoulders, pushing in even deeper as he bends me practically in half, pinning me down with his large body and thrusting his hips in a fierce, brutal rhythm.

  “Fuck, Owen…shit.” I feel Blake’s body tensing up and he crushes his lips against mine, just as hot cum spills into my ass.

  He stays there for a moment, his mouth devouring mine as I hold him against me. But then he gently removes my legs from his shoulders and pulls out of me; standing up, Blake gathers me against him so I’m seated on the edge of the counter, my arms and legs wrapped around him. He crashes his lips against mine again, his hand coming down between us to stroke my aching cock.

  I can’t stop myself from snapping my hips, thrusting into his hand as my grip tightens in his hair. “Fuck,” I groan. “Blake, I’m—”

  I’m not able to finish the thought as the orgasm rips through me and I come all over Blake’s hand.

  Breathless, I drop my head to Blake’s shoulder and he lifts his arms to wrap around me, heedless of the mess he’s making on my back. Like I care…

  “I thought you weren’t calling me ‘daddy’ anymore?” he asks wryly.

  I let out a soft breath of laughter. “Habit.”

  He draws back from me a little, his beautiful blue eyes boring into me with a look of concern. “Is everything okay? That was…intense.”

  I sigh. He’s right. I love being taken hard and rough, but it’s not something I need anymore the way I used to. It’s taken me a long time to understand it, but I used to use sex as a way to deal with my anxiety. It’s been a while since that kind of compulsive need to be owned and used has reared its head…

  I shake my head. “It’s stupid. It’s just…this kid came into the ED tonight, and, I don’t know. I’m just…worried for him.”

  I tell Blake all about Ryder and the foster mother and how Dr. Miles, while not prepared to make an official diagnosis, was pretty sure the boy is epileptic.

  “I know it’s dumb,” I say, shaking my head. “I deal with literally hundreds of people a week so I have no idea why this kid is sticking with me. It’s just…he’s so young. And I hate that he’s not going to have the proper support for what will probably be a pretty difficult road.”

  “Don’t ever say that,” Blake reprimands. “It’s not dumb. You care about people—that’s what makes you such an amazing nurse.”

  I offer a weak smile and he dips his head to brush a kiss across my lips.

  “Maybe you should go in to see him tomorrow?” Blake suggests. “It doesn’t sound like he’ll be getting many visitors from home…”

  I nod, a little buoyed by the suggestion. “Yeah, I think I will.”

  8

  Wade

  * * *

  I feel like I’ve barely even shut my eyes after setting out the kids’ presents from ‘Santa’ when I wake to the sensation of strong arms being wrapped around me and bristly stubble scraping against the side of my neck as my boyfriend nuzzles against me.

  “Are they asleep?” I murmur.

  Brendan stiffens for a moment, before saying quietly, “Yeah. Like you’re supposed to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s okay.” I nestle back against Brendan’s strong body, savoring the perfect feel of him. “How’s Arya’s diaper rash?”

  “It’s getting better, I think. That cream my mom gave us seems to be working.”

  “That’s good. And—”

  “You should really try going back to sleep,” he murmurs, cutting me off. “Otherwise I might start getting ideas.”

  I let out a soft chuckle. “I like it when you get ideas.”

  I feel a soft kiss against my neck and then Brendan starts moving his hand farther south, edging it slowly toward the waistband of my pajama pants and my rapidly hardening cock. Oh yeah, I like this idea…

  But before Brendan can so much as graze my cock, we’re interrupted by our bedroom door slamming open and the whirlwind that is our six-year-old son. We tear apart immediately, Brendan rolling away from me just as Baxter vaults onto the bed.

  “Argh! Jesus fluffing Christ! Oww!”

  I reach out to turn on my bedside lamp, adding its light to the faint stream coming in from the hallway. In the new brightness I can see Brendan curled up in the fetal position, his face twisted with pain, while Baxter kneels on the bed right beside him.

  “You okay, B?” I ask.

  “We weren’t ever planning to do IVF, were we?” he asks in a grumbled voice. “‘Cause I’ve just been taken off the roster.”

  “I’m sorry, BeeBee,” Baxter says, and I can see the concern on his face as he looks at Brendan. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Baxter, what are you doing in here?” I say sternly. “It’s way too early for you to be awake, you know that.”

  “I wanted to see Santa, but he’s already been!” he cries, his face crumpled with disappointment.

  “Well, of course he’s already been,” Brendan reasons. “He only comes while kids are asleep.”

  “Baxter…” I begin in the same firm tone, “have you already been out into the living room?”

  Bax seems to realize he’s backed himself into a corner with his previous comment and keeps his mouth shut, but the guilt is written all over his face.

  “Right, that’s it,” I say, my eyes narrowed on my son. “You broke the rules, so you’re definitely not allowed to see your presents now.”

  “But, Da-a-a-dd-yy…” Baxter sobs, almost in tears.

  “Calm down,” I tell him. “You can see them later—once Arya wakes up.”

  “And you’ll have to be on your best behavior until then,” Brendan says. “Otherwise Santa might come back and take your presents away.”

  Baxter’s eyes widen in horror. “Could Santa really do that?”

  “Do you want to risk it?” Brendan asks him, brows raised.

  “Come on, bud,” I say gently, “you can stay in here for now and once Arya’s awake we’ll go look at the presents.”

  Baxter nods and crawls under the covers, in between me and Brendan. I flick the lamp back off and settle back against my pillow, praying to the baby gods that my daughter will sleep for at least about six hours. Newborns can do that, right?

  * * *

  Of course, we hear Arya screeching through the monitor about an hour and a half later, during which time neither Brendan or I have been able to get a wink of sleep thanks to Baxter kicking at us.

  “What do you think the chances are of getting her fed and changed and back to sleep before he wakes up again?” Brendan asks quietly.

  I offer a wry smile. “Only one way to find out.”

  I carefully slide out of bed so as not to disturb my sleeping son and pad quietly out of the bedroom and across the hall to the nursery. I make sure to turn the sensor off on the monitor before reaching down to pull my fussing eight-day-old daughter from her bassinet.

  “Hey, princess,” I coo in a soft whisper as I draw her up against my shoulder and start bouncing around a little. “You’re hungry again already, huh?”

  The movement quiets her pretty quickly; like her fictional namesake, Arya seems to be a bit of a thrill-seeker, always at her happiest wh
en she’s being swooped or bounced in someone’s arms, or sitting in her motorized swing. But even though the crying has stopped, she’s still a little unsettled and I can tell she’s eager for some food.

  As an early Christmas gift, my sister, Amy, bought us an awesome machine that makes up formula, basically like a Keurig for baby bottles. We decided to keep it in the nursery because, let’s face it, overnight feedings are when we need the most help. So now all I need to do is press a button and a few seconds later I have a fresh, warm bottle for my little girl.

  Once she’s fed and changed I attempt to put Arya back to sleep in her bassinet, but she doesn’t want to settle this time around and I know the chances of me getting any further sleep this morning is now practically zero.

  I carry my daughter across the hall, prepared to tell Baxter it’s okay for him to open his presents now, but find both him and Brendan sound asleep. Deciding to let them sleep—we’ll all be better off for Baxter getting as much shut eye as possible—I take Arya down to the kitchen and strap her into her carrier so she can snuggle against me while I prepare stuff for breakfast. Despite her unwillingness to settle in her own bed, it only takes about five minutes for her to fall asleep in the carrier. I shake my head wryly as I look down at her sleeping peacefully. “Figures.”

  With everything that’s been going on lately, our pantry and refrigerator are not quite as stocked as they usually might be—which is why we ended up leaving a celery stick for the reindeer last night instead of the usual carrot—so getting together some items for a nice breakfast is a bit of a challenge. I manage to find some frozen hash browns in the freezer, so I pre-heat the oven and stick them in. I figure if I pair them with some cut up fruit and natural yogurt it’ll all be balanced out. I’m just cutting up some apple slices when I hear pounding footsteps down the hallway.

  “Oh my god!” Baxter shrieks, skidding into the living room. “RUDOLPH ATE THE CELERY!” I grin at his reaction. Clearly when he came out earlier to check on the status of the presents he forgot to check whether the snacks we left out last night had been eaten.

  “How do you know it was Rudolph?” Brendan asks, rubbing a hand over his sleep-messed dark hair as he follows after Baxter. “It could have been Dasher. Or Prancer. Actually, I think I read somewhere that Comet is a big fan of celery.”

  Baxter’s eyes blow wide as saucers. “Really?”

  Brendan nods sagely. “Absolutely. It helps with his digestion.”

  I let out a soft chuckle as I watch the pair of them. Despite several of Brendan’s tall tales being thoroughly debunked, Baxter still hangs on his every word like it’s gospel.

  “Why don’t you go have a look at your presents?” I suggest, nodding toward a pile of gifts wrapped in dark blue reindeer print paper.

  Baxter jumps at the suggestion, immediately rushing over to see his presents. But as he catches sight of another pile of gifts, a confused frown forms on his face. “What are those?” he asks, pointing at the collection of gifts wrapped in a pink snowflake print.

  “Those must be Arya’s presents,” Brendan says brightly. He steps toward me and reaches out a finger to gently stroke over Arya’s cheek. “Did you see that Ari?” he coos. “Santa left you presents.”

  This seems to confuse Baxter even more. “But Arya’s just a baby.”

  “Santa left you presents when you were a baby,” I reason.

  Baxter’s brows draw together. “I don’t remember that.”

  “That’s because you were a baby,” Brendan tells him. “Babies don’t remember things.”

  “Why don’t you open your presents, bud,” I prompt. “And then you can help Arya open hers.”

  With a kind of feverish delight, Baxter rips in to present after present, becoming more and more excited as each new gift reveals itself: a slime-making kit, Avengers Legos, a balance board, several new books. There are also some more boring items, like some new winter clothes and some things he’ll be needing for school next year.

  “Can I help Arya open her presents now?” Baxter asks eagerly, once he’s carefully examined every item in his haul.

  I smile affectionately. “Sure, bud.”

  Of course, Baxter’s ‘help’ basically consists of grabbing the closest pink-wrapped box and tearing the paper off with the same zeal he had for his own presents.

  Once the paper is off, Baxter stares at the box with clear disappointment. “What is this?”

  “It’s a baby bath. I guess Santa knows Arya will be taking proper baths soon.”

  Baxter’s face lights up. ‘And I get to be the assistant!”

  I chuckle, reaching down to ruffle his blond curls. ‘That’s right, buddy.” Bax was weirdly disappointed when we brought Arya home and he found out she could only have “boring” sponge baths until her cord comes off. I guess for a kid who loves nothing more than playing in the bath he was disappointed not to be able to share that with his new sister.

  “Let’s see what else Santa left for Arya,” Brendan says to Baxter, handing him another package. “Can you help her open this one?”

  “I’m not really helping her,” Bax clarifies with an air of superiority. “I’m doing it for her because she’s too little.”

  “You’re helping her by doing it for her,” I say.

  The rest of Arya’s presents follow a similar pattern; that is items we bought in the lead up to her birth but haven’t had a chance to use yet because she’s only a week old. Baxter displays varying amounts of enthusiasm as he unwraps each package: a baby gym, a pack ’n’ play, some more baby clothes, a rabbit lovey.

  “Is that all?” Baxter demands once he’s opened all of Arya’s gifts.

  “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” I say sternly. “Santa’s been very generous this year. You’re both very lucky.”

  Baxter looks down, chastened. “But I like opening presents.”

  I let out a breath of laughter, shaking my head affectionately. “Well if that’s all it is, maybe BeeBee will let you help him open his present from me?”

  Baxter’s eyes light up. “Can I?”

  Brendan grins. “Sure!” Then to me, he mutters under his breath, “But we might not want to do it the other way around. Not unless you want him finding out what a dildo actually is.”

  9

  Josh

  * * *

  “Mmm…what are you doing? What’s going on?” I ask sleepily as I stare bleary-eyed at Connor, who’s out of bed and already tugging on a sweatshirt. “Why are you up? Today’s a holiday.”

  He rubs his hands together, a beaming smile spreading across his bearded face. “Yup. It’s Christmas! I’m going to get Chase up so he can see what Santa left him.”

  My eyes snap wide open at that. “Connor, are you insane? It’s not even light out yet!”

  “It’s six am,” he says brightly. “Plenty late enough.”

  I sigh. “Babe, just…come here.” I pat the space next to me on the bed. “Please?”

  Reluctantly, he joins me on the bed, although he’s still kneeling, as though he’s poised to get up at any second.

  I sit up and wrap my hands around his face, looking deep into his beautiful eyes. “Con, I know this is your first Christmas with Chase and you should be excited. It’s great that you are. But I need you to think ahead for a minute. We’ve got a big day with Laura’s family and then Cait’s place for dinner tonight. Do you really want to start the day by waking Chase before he’s ready? And besides, Laura didn’t get in until after midnight last night—we should let her sleep some more.”

  With a defeated sigh, he slumps on the bed next to me. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am.” I offer a soft smile, lifting my hand to run through his golden hair. It’s grown out a lot over the past year, and is worn up in a bun most days; but I love when it’s down like this and I can thread my fingers through it.

  “Mmm…that feels good.” He lets his eyes fall closed and I drop my head to brush a kiss over his jaw, earning ano
ther hum of appreciation.

  “I was going to suggest we try to get some more sleep,” I murmur. “But I can think of a better way to pass the time.”

  I barely have the words out before Connor rolls on top of me, his lips crashing down against mine. The second we connect there’s that familiar torrent of need and desire that seeps through to my bones and has me instantly desperate for him.

  I run my hands over his body, hastily removing his sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath before letting my fingers roam all over the hard planes of his back, his broad shoulders, down his tattooed chest. I wrap my legs around his waist and roll us over, loving the murmurs of appreciation he lets out as I kiss my way down his muscular chest, paying attention to all the beautiful ink there. And when I slide my tongue around the ring in his right nipple, there’s a deep, rumbling groan that goes straight to my cock.

  “Fuck yeah,” he growls as I tug the ring gently with my teeth. He takes a second to scramble out of his sweats, and then I feel his hands on my ass, spurring me to move up and thrust against his cock. The new alignment means I have to draw my mouth away from his nipple—I’m smaller than Connor, but not that much smaller—but the incredible way our cocks feel moving against each other makes the sacrifice worth it. Instead, I move my hand up to play with the nipple ring and crash my mouth back against Connor’s.

  It reminds me a little of the morning after our very first kiss, when we started grinding together before we learned who each other was and freaked out. Or, at least, I freaked out…

  That all seems so distant to me now. It’s impossible to think there was a time when I was fighting this relationship between us; a time before we knew about Chase, when Connor was just my ex’s sexy brother who was determined to ‘woo’ me. But all that was only a year ago.