Yuletide Knights 3

by Johnny Miles

  Feeling as though a great burden had been lifted, Griffin held Jackson tight in his arms. The embrace turned into a rough, hard, long kiss. His hands were everywhere, caressing the lithe man he thought he’d never see again. Jackson pulled away slightly.

  “You know, we don’t have to if you don’t want to or aren't in the mood. You’ve been through a huge ordeal and—”

  “Are you kidding me? I don’t know about you, but since we’ve been apart, there’s been no one.” Griffin’s cock stirred even as his blood boiled. The only thing he wanted now was to feel Jackson naked beside him.

  “No one?” Jackson scoffed.

  “Other than jerking off, there’s been no one. I promise.”

  “Well, I… I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”

  “Frankly, Jackson. I don’t give a damn.” Griffin grinned, then leaned in close. He whispered, “You know what I think?”

  “No, what?” Jackson replied in kind.

  “I think you need to get out of those clothes and climb into bed with me. And then you need to kiss me. And keep on kissing me. A lot. Suck me. Suck my cock. Then spread those sexy legs and show me that smooth pink hole so I can eat you. Get you all juiced up. Make sweet love to you.”

  “You smooth talker, you,” Jackson teased. “You say the most romantic things. But…are you sure you’re up for it, Daddy?”

  “Daddy?” Griffin was taken aback. “What’s that mean?

  “Oh! I’m so sorry. I thought… I thought you’d seen…”

  “Thought I’d seen what?”

  Griffin stared quizzically at Jackson as he stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. He pointed at the full-length mirror in the far corner of the room.

  “Come see for yourself.” Jackson beckoned.

  Griffin pushed the covers back, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. Jackson was there to help him. When Griffin was sure he could manage on his own, he made his way to the mirror. His jaw practically hit the floor. Yes, it was his own reflection staring back at him in the red union suit they’d dressed him in, but he looked older. His hair, still thick and red, now had streaks of white. There were lines around his eyes, his lips. His body was still the same, firm and beefy and muscular, but his beard, usually red and trim, was now full-on white and longer.

  “Oh my God. I look like… I fucking look like…”

  “Santa Claus,” Jackson finished for him.

  Griffin caught Jackson’s gaze in the mirror, saw the lust in his eyes. He turned and faced Jackson. Then, with spread fingers, Griffin shoved Jackson roughly onto the bed.

  Jackson laughed as he bounced on the cushy mattress.

  “No, wait!” he cried when Griffin began to undo the buttons of the warm one-piece.

  Griffin stopped.

  “Keep it on,” Jackson added. “Union suits are hot. Besides, it’s a bit closer to fulfilling one of my many fantasies.”

  “One of many? Oh, baby. I’m liking this better and better with every passing minute. So what’s this fantasy?”

  “I want to be fucked by a Santa Claus.”

  Griffin threw his head back and roared with laughter. It was a strange laugh, one that sounded odd to his ears. And yet, it also felt strangely like home.

  “Ho, ho, ho!”

  Jackson goaded Griffin on. “Oooo! Yeah. That’s the spirit.”

  “You are quite the little whore, aren’t you?” Griffin stood akimbo as Jackson sat up and undid the buttons he wanted undone. First Griffin’s cock, sticking straight out with a slight upward curve and throbbing hotly. The button beneath Griffin’s balls and the button just above the base of his cock formed a sort of cock ring that felt tight but good. Then Jackson undid the top three buttons, just enough to fun his fingers through the mat of fur on Griffin’s chest.

  “Now. Like that. Fuck me stupid.”

  Jackson flung himself back into the center of the bed. He undid his pants. Griffin removed them for him and climbed in. He fell on top of Jackson, who wrapped his arms about Griffin’s neck. Their lips met and their cocks pressed together.

  In the heat of his rising passion, Griffin nudged Jackson’s head to one side. He buried his face in Jackson’s neck, licking, kissing, and sucking. Griffin actually sensed Jackson’s eyes roll back into his head as he sighed with pleasure.

  Griffin felt Jackson's legs around hiss waist, pulling him closer, then groaned as Jackson raised his hips just enough to tease the head of his probing cock.

  “This is how you want me to take you?” Griffin pressed the already leaking glans against the hole being offered but didn’t penetrate. “You, naked, like my personal bitch?”

  “Ohhh, yes…Santa!” Jackson grinned.

  “Well, I was hoping to eat you out and get you all spit-lubed, but…if this is what you want—”

  “Have you forgotten how I get wet when you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now?” Jackson’s voice was breathy with desire. “Just fuck me already. It’s been way too long!”

  Griffin kissed Jackson hard, with tongue and wetness. He pulled back just a little and positioned himself, the head of his cock up against the tiny puckered entrance. Then, just as Griffin was ready to thrust forward, the bedroom door flew.

  “Oh! You’re up. Good. Don’t mind me. I’ll just…” Kris suddenly seemed to realize what was happening and closed the door, flustered. “I’ll, uhhh…ummm… I’ll wait outside until you’re done. How’s that?”

  “Go away!” both Griffin and Jackson cried at the same time and burst out laughing.

  “Now,” Griffin growled a moment later. “Where were we?”

  Jackson’s only reply was to reach for Griffin, one arm about his neck, a hand wrapped firmly at the base of Griffin’s throbbing shaft. He felt Jackson’s need, his urgency as he leaned back, pulling Griffin with him.

  In one deft move, Griffin raised Jackson’s legs, exposed the pink tightness that had brought Griffin such incredible pleasure, and plunged. His gaze locked on Jackson’s face, Griffin relished the look of intense pleasure etched onto Jackson’s face. The boy’s mouth was a round O, and his eyes had rolled back into his head.

  “No one else will ever have you again as long as I live,” Griffin muttered, moving his hips back and forth. The tightness around his cock was almost on the verge of being excruciating but at the same time felt so good he couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—stop fucking Jackson.

  “I don’t want anyone else.” Jackson opened his eyes and gazed back at Griffin. “I only want you. I’ve only wanted you, ever since we met.”

  Griffin pulled out almost all the way, then plunged back inside Jackson with one long, easy stroke. Like a hot knife through butter. He grinned as Jackson gasped and then bit his lower lip. Buried deep inside Jackson, Griffin ground his hips with a circling motion. He knew he hit that magic spot when Jackson tossed his head back and growled like a bitch in heat. With Jackson’s throat exposed, something wild and primal grabbed hold of him. He leaned forward, still thrusting, and licked Jackson’s neck. He bit down on the soft fleshy spot between the neck and shoulder.

  Jackson cried out and thrashed beneath him.

  Griffin felt Jackson’s nails on his back and, though not long, felt Jackson rasp them along his shoulders even as he raised his hips up to meet Griffin’s forward thrusts. Something took over, and for the briefest of moments, Griffin felt like he’d left his body as he pounded Jackson hard, fast, and deep. Plunging, never stopping. Breathing heavy. He felt a familiar warmth building and managed to mutter, “Jeez. Fuck. Jackson. I’m—”

  “Coming!” they both cried out simultaneously, their bodies tense.

  Moments later, in the stillness and quiet of the night, Griffin felt his cock soften and plop out of Jackson. Griffin reached between Jackson’s legs and inserted two fingers inside. Jackson moaned and shivered, his body convulsing. When Griffin pulled the digits out, they came away with some of his cum. He smeared the sticky substance along Jackson’s lips and k
issed him, tasting his own essence on Jackson’s lips, his tongue. With a sigh, they maneuvered themselves into a spooning position and drifted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  In winter, outside the twelve-foot-high, six-foot-thick wall that surrounded Santa’s Christmas Village, the North Pole was a desolate wasteland of snow and wind. It helped that the North Pole was in a realm all its own. Still, rifts between realms opened up from time to time. For the accidental explorer that found their way through and stumbled upon the Village, there were always enchantments and spells that protected the area and kept them safe. And for those few lucky—or unlucky—enough to find them, the Elves were never inhospitable. They were always warm and welcoming and generous to a fault with food, clothing, shelter. Unfortunately, that person would never remember ever having stumbled upon the North Pole where Santa Claus and his Elves lived.

  If the outside was harsh and cruel, inside, the Village was a wonderland and all Griffin had ever imagined it to be as a child. Small, neat, and tidy, it reminded him of the Magic Kingdom at Disney World.

  From the main gate made of wrought iron, Main Street led residents as well as the occasional authorized visitor to shops and eateries with apartments above. The road opened to a large space perfect for gatherings. A passerby might easily envision Elves sunning themselves on a warm day.

  At the center of the space, known as Hope Circus, stood a verdigris statue paying homage to everyone’s favorite holiday. A Santa Claus with an Elf beside him had been cast into a sleigh tilted on one of two runners. Eight bronzed reindeer swooped dramatically into the air while a large bag of gifts, with some falling out, had been sculpted into the backseat of the sleigh. The Elf had one hand on his hat while the other gripped the side of the sleigh. Santa half stood as though getting up, one hand holding the reins, the other raised, gloved hand open.

  The statue meant to imply movement, but Griffin couldn’t help thinking the look on Santa’s face was one of a man ready for battle. And after all they’d been through, Griffin was certain there was a bit of that that went with the job.

  He found himself wondering about the history of Santa, how the legend began, how it might have passed on to the myth it had eventually become. Now he would be a part of it all, live in the minds of billions of children around the world. A thrilling yet terrifying prospect that strangely made Griffin feel empowered and full of verve.

  “Do you think I’m ready for this, Jax?” Griffin turned to Jackson, who stood quietly beside him.

  “I think you’re going to make a terrific Santa.” Jackson’s eyes sparkled brightly in the crisp, cold air. Griffin didn’t remember ever seeing him look so alive. Then again, Jackson was a child of winter, and they were in the North Pole.

  Griffin took his hand, and they continued walking. Ahead, Kris and Woden talked, laughed, whispered, and connived.

  Beyond Hope Circus was Santa’s mansion, a mini castle with three floors above ground and two below, one of which connected it to the rest of the town via a network of tunnels used when the weather became too frightful.

  Left and right, the road would have taken them to pockets of Santa’s Village where the Elves lived. The homes, each unique in design, for individualism was encouraged, branched out into streets with holiday names: Candy Cane Lane, Garland Way, and Blinking Lights Road, just to name a few.

  But as interested in the homes as Griffin might have been, it was the buildings beyond the castle that intrigued him most: Santa’s workshop and the sleigh roundhouse.

  The factory, which employed a large portion of the Elves living in the village, was a tri-spoked building much like the letter Y at the far right of the property. Easily accessible and approachable from all sides of the village, each length of building was the same, with green open spaces between the spokes, in Spring. The factory was closed now, but to the far left and slightly beyond where most would never go unless they were employed there, was the roundhouse.

  Excited yet nervous, Griffin drank it all in.

  The brick building with sleigh weathervane atop the roof also housed the meteorological team as well as the control room with navigators and engineers that assisted Santa on yearly treks.

  Griffin walked inside the roundhouse. He gaped at the enormity of space, at the hundreds if not thousands of gears and dials, each with its own special function that only the Elves seemed to know.

  At the center, on a turntable that could be raised or angled as needed, sat a huge red sleigh with a metallic finish. Slick and shiny with gold runners and embellishments, it was the sort of sleigh meant for hard work, unlike the sporty sleigh they’d traveled in when they’d gone off in search of Krampus.

  Built tough, this sleigh had every piece of new technology imaginable: built-in Wi-Fi, an MP4 player with over-the-ears headphones, also used for communicating with ground control, and a sat/nav device with up-to-date global mapping. Synched monthly, then weekly as the year progressed, it was eventually synched daily as Christmas drew near with up-to-the-minute global information at their fingertips.

  The sleigh, which also had seat warmers, held up to four—a fifth if that person was really small, thin, and willing to sit in the back with the never-ending bag of presents. It even boasted an expandable trunk, continuously monitored so it would keep on filling with gifts as Santa delivered the ones already in the oversize and overstuffed green velour bag.

  Unlike the sportier sleigh, which could easily be pulled by two reindeer, this one required eight of the magnificent beasts.

  The roundhouse itself was clean and spartan, except for the many widgets, tools, and gadgets necessary for sleigh upkeep, and twenty-four openings allowed for easy in and out during the annual run. At the moment, the wooden doors made of thick planks of quebracho, one of the hardest woods known to man, all remained closed.

  While Jackson, Kris, and Woden hung back, Griffin walked up to the sleigh in awe. He reached out, placing a hand on the cool surface. Instantly, images flashed in his brain that allowed him to see how it all worked.

  Movement, constant movement, bursts of energy, coming and going with not a second to spare, everyone working like cogs in a machine, all so Santa could deliver presents to all the good children and adults around the world. The magnitude of what they accomplished each year without anyone acknowledging their work overwhelmed Griffin. It filled him with an enormous sense of equal parts humility and pride.

  “I…I can’t believe this. This is really real, isn’t it?” He felt as giddy as a schoolboy with the excitement and thrill of a brand-new love. He turned to the others, noting the grumbling Elf who ran out to wipe away smudges and fingerprints.

  Kris walked up to Griffin. “So? What do you think? You still up for this? The role of Santa Claus isn’t one to be taken lightly. It’s a thankless—”

  “Yes! Oh, yes. There’s just one thing I’m curious about.”

  “One thing?” Kris chuckled.

  “Why would you want to give this all up? I mean, you have a home here. You have a…husband? Partner?”

  “Soul mate.”

  “Who loves you very much. And you clearly love him. But why would you or anyone want to give this up?”

  Kris snorted with amusement. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

  “There’s…any number of reasons why a Santa might want to step down. The post is designed to be long-term, but a person can grow tired or dream of doing something else. Like most, we’re all free to follow our dreams in pursuit of happiness. Take your father as an example. He fell in love and stepped down because he felt being with Virginia, being with you, would be more rewarding. He could have brought her here, but it was important to him to be with his newly formed family.”

  “So…he renounced everything?”

  “Yes, Griffin. But isn’t that what love sometimes does to a person?”

  “I guess. But that still doesn’t explain why you—”

  “I wanted to step down to uncover the reason why Magic had been disappearin
g from the world. Every day there was less and less. Now I know why Magic had been disappearing. Now I’m just…tired, Griffin. Tired and old.”

  Griffin looked at Kris. Ever since Krampus, the man did look much older. Still robust, but definitely older than he’d appeared when Griffin first laid eyes on him.

  “I want to… I don’t know. Maybe take a cruise through the Caribbean for a week or two. Visit Norway and Sweden and France. It would be nice to actually visit and stay at any of the places where we deliver all those packages. Besides, I don’t know how much time I have left in this realm. And with Bucket the way he is…” Kris took a deep breath and sighed. After a moment, he spoke again. “I want to spend at least one Christmas at home with him. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Well, okay, but I’m gonna have a lot of questions.”

  “I’d expect you to. If you didn’t, I’d be worried. I’ll be here to answer them. If not, you know how to reach me.”

  “Okay, but…what if I just want to hang out and…I dunno…smoke a pipe or have a cognac or something?”

  Or maybe, Griffin thought. Maybe I just want to connect with someone who knew my father when he was alive. Someone who can tell me stories of what he was like before he met my mom. Or have a father figure to look up to.

  “Whatever it takes, son. Whatever it takes.” Kris clapped Griffin on the shoulder, which made him wonder, had he thought out loud or had Kris read his mind?

  The two embraced.

  “I’ll notify the Elders. They’ll have to swear you in. It’s really not necessary, but they are ancient, and like the British, they stand on tradition. Still, it will have to be quick. We don’t have time for the full-on pomp and circumstance.”

  “C’mon, we haven’t been gone that long, have we?”

  “I’m afraid we have. Remember when Woden said time moved differently in the Krampus realm?”

  Griffin nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, right now the sun has set over the Balleny Islands, which means—”

  “The Balleny Islands?” Griffin cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Where are they?”