Yuletide Knights 3

by Johnny Miles

  The moment the sleigh landed and slid to a stop, a battery of Elves raced out like a pit crew at a racetrack. They checked gears, polished and tightened parts of the sleigh. They fed and watered the animals. One of them offered each in the sleigh tea or hot cocoa.

  Meanwhile the turntable slowly spun, and the control room began to count down once again. Within the space of one Earth minute, the sleigh landed, was spruced, spun to the next time zone, and shot off into space.

  And on it went.

  Except it was far more fascinating than that. To Bucket, it was like being in several places at once as the same group of Elves performed the exact same function at almost the exact same time, only in different time zones. To Jackson, it was like watching time-lapse photography unfold.

  Eventually tiredness took hold, combined with the effects of the rum Bucket kept pouring into their cider. Before the sleigh had gotten to the twelfth position, Bucket stood and stretched.

  “I think I’m done.” Bucket creaked as he yawned. “Would you mind walking me back to the house? I’m ever so tired.”

  Jackson stood. They turned their backs on the time-lapse action in the roundhouse and walked out into the snowy evening, back to the house where Bucket fell asleep in his room the instant his head touched the pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Even after nearly a dozen hours sleep, Bucket was still tired. Willingly, he followed Kris back to North Carolina, where Kris insisted they had a minor but important job to do in saving the marriage of one Michael and Beauregard, possible descendants of Magicals. And yet, Bucket would have loved nothing more than to continue sleeping.

  It’s time for me to go, he thought to himself once he’d delivered the message and returned to the North Pole. He trudged through the snow—the cold helped keep his mind alert—and made his way to his family’s house. There, he kissed and hugged his mother, Tinsel, then sat. Although he’d already told them about his experience in the Krampus realm, making sure to leave out some of the horrifying details, Bucket repeated what his mother wanted to hear, about his father—her husband—rather than the other things that happened.

  Outwardly, he was a rock for his mother. Inwardly, he wanted to die from the shame and humiliation of being raped by the minotaurs.

  His sister, Carole, and twin brothers, Firr and Balsam, joined them. Each was as loving and supportive as they’d been when Bucket had first gotten back from Krampus Realm, when they’d seen how much he’d aged.

  But Bucket was tired.

  He could barely move and wasn’t sure he wanted to go on another minute. If it weren’t for the fact that Kris was still out, Bucket could have easily closed his eyes, fallen back asleep, and slid into a long winter’s nap that stretched into eternity.

  When Bucket grew so tired his head started bobbing, he stood and excused himself. His family, who’d been telling stories of old when Kaine had been alive, hugged and kissed him, though none spoke of what was about to happen. Bucket knew they were keeping their cheer and being strong for him.

  “I love you, Mother. Take good care of yourself. And again, I’m sorry I brought you such bad news.”

  “At least I now have closure. Did I tell you he visited me that night? In my dreams?”

  Bucket nodded.

  “Okay, then. I won’t bore you. Good night, dear.”

  “Oh, Bucket! I love you so.” Carole hugged him so tight Bucket thought she’d choke him. “Thank you for your words. I’ll look into a transfer as soon as we get back to the Workshop next week. I think the dry heat of Palm Springs will be the welcome change of pace I need.”

  “We love you, little bro.” Firr and Balsam pulled Bucket into a hug between them and held him as long as he allowed. But Bucket soon pulled away, gave a final wave, and off he went.

  A short while later, in Kris’s room, Bucket changed into his flannel pajamas. He willed himself a hot cup of cocoa and, with the last of his Magic, built a roaring fire in the hearth. He sat in one of two rocking chairs.

  The door opened, and Kris walked in. He looked older and more tired than Bucket remembered.

  “How did it go?” Bucket asked.

  “Grueling but well. Griffin will make a fine Santa. He took to it like a duck to water.” Kris approached and gave Bucket a kiss before sitting in the empty rocking chair. “How did things go here?”

  Bucket remained silent. He thought of what he wanted to say and how to say it. A moment later, he glanced up at Kris, and although he told himself he wouldn’t, Bucket cried.

  “I’m done, Kris. I want…I want to go to sleep now. I’ve said my good-byes.”

  “Oh.” Kris closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes, Bucket saw a redness there he knew was part tiredness, part sadness.

  “Are you…are you sure about this?” Kris looked as though he were struggling with his words and emotions.

  Bucket nodded.

  “You’ve…thought it through, then. Fully?”

  Bucket nodded.

  “What about me?”

  Bucket climbed down from his rocker and approached Kris.

  “What about you?”

  “Who will be my love? Who will give me the things I need?”

  “But I don’t give you anything. Not really. We don’t have that type of material relationship. That’s how you wanted it. From the start.” Bucket took Kris’s hand in both of his.

  “The things I get from you are worth much more to me than anything material you could give me.”

  Outside, the wind blew. Snow pelted the windows. Kris and Bucket embraced, holding each other tight as the fire crackled and counted down the time.

  * * * *

  After what seemed like hours, Kris picked Bucket up in his arms and rose. He walked to the bed and laid Bucket down.

  “Will you consider that perhaps you’re just overtired?”

  “I’ve considered it.”

  “Then let me offer you a counter proposal. Sleep with me the sleep of restoration. Please. When you awake, if you still want to…” Kris fought the burning in his throat. “I will help you transition into winter’s eternal slumber.”

  Bucket smiled, a hand to Kris’s cheek.

  Kris closed his eyes, and the tears came no matter how much he fought them back. This was the love of his life, his soul mate. How could he have agreed to such a thing? Already lonely, anticipating the emptiness of his life, Kris knew he wouldn’t want to live if living meant not having Bucket in his life.

  He thought back to when he was a slave. Running away on the Underground Railroad, meeting Harriet Tubman herself, and feeling so greatly inspired for putting his life at risk for the sake of freedom and the pursuit of happiness. He thought of how he’d almost died the night they’d run away, shot by the same man who’d once owned him. Then Nicolai had come along to save him.

  Kris thought of all he’d endured since then. Adapting to a new world, one where he needed to put aside his own fears and judgments to spread hope, love, and cheer.

  He thought of the Civil Rights movement, the elimination of Jim Crowe laws, desegregation. How they’d fought for equality! They’d come a long way, but there was still much more work to be done. And now it was all in the balance once more. Earth seemed to hover on the brink of the most progressive awareness Kris had ever seen. They had the opportunity to fast-forward boldly into the future in a way that could create global peace. Opposing forces, however, struggled to take them back to an era Kris didn’t care to see again.

  Was it worth the fight? Was it worth the struggle without Bucket by his side? Maybe Bucket was right.

  But in Kris’s heart, he knew the answer.

  Kris stood and stripped naked. He climbed into bed, too tired to shower or bathe.

  “I seek counsel before I enter the sleep of restoration. Elders, please come to my chambers. My soul…my soul aches.”

  Several hours later, long after Bucket had fallen into the restorative sleep, long afte
r the Elders had come and counseled Kris, long after the medical and spiritual team had come to align their chakras, cleanse their minds and hearts, Kris was vaguely aware of the glimmering shimmer from the gauze-like caul that was the sleep of restoration. He felt its energy, slowly seeping into his body, easing his mind into a peaceful slumber. He felt himself relax beside Bucket and held him close.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Pumped from his trip with Kris, Natale, and Portia, Griffin couldn’t sleep. Naked, he crawled out of bed and paced the room. He cast shadows as he walked to and fro before the fire.

  Jackson sat up a moment later. “Can’t sleep?”

  “No,” Griffin replied. “I’m too energized. I feel…I feel like I can take on the world! I want to go somewhere. With you.”

  Jackson laughed. “Even though Kris advised against it?”

  “Yeah, I know I’ll need my rest for the next haul, but hey…that’s not until next year! I can rest when I die. Why don’t we go out? Do something crazy. Something we’ve never done before.”

  Jackson thought a moment. “Well…I’ve always wanted to see the aurora borealis.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Griffin replied and raced to get dressed, although the only thing he had to wear was his Santa Claus outfit.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jackson’s eyes glittered with excitement.

  “I’ve never been more serious.” Griffin slipped on his boots and strode up to the side of the bed. He swept Jackson into his arms and kissed him deep and long.

  Moments later, several hundred miles away, they camped out on a blanket and watched, awed by the dancing lights of purple, green, and blue. Except the lights didn’t dance as much as shimmered. Nothing could be more right than sitting beside Jackson. Griffin was reminded of the night they’d sat together on the beach, shortly after Jackson had healed Virginia.

  “There’s so much I feel we haven’t said to each other, so much we haven’t done. And yet we’ve been through so much already.”

  “You know what I think?” Jackson leaned in and kissed him.

  Griffin shook his head.

  Jackson continued. “I think you talk and think too much. Live life, my beautiful one. It’s meant to be devoured. Sink your teeth into the flesh and savor it. Feel the juice on your tongue. Let it ooze and drip into your veins. None of us knows how long we have, so…suck the life out of life.”

  Griffin laughed. “Are we still talking about something philosophical here? ’Cause what you’re saying is making me super horny.”

  “Take it how you like,” Jackson replied coyly. He grabbed Griffin’s crotch and squeezed. “But whatever you do, shut the fuck up and take me. Right here. Right now. Under the dancing lights. Fuck me like a whore, like I’m your bitch. And don’t hold back. Give it all to me. Your love, your fear, your anger.”

  “Oh, I’ll fuck you all right.” Griffin grabbed Jackson’s wrists and pushed him back to lie on top of him. “But not yet. First, I’m making love to you.”

  Griffin Magicked both of their clothing away. Surprisingly, the cold meant nothing to him as the fire in his loins spread. Fully hard and throbbing, he locked his gaze with Jackson’s. Never wavering, Griffin raised Jackson’s legs, lifting his hips to expose the smooth pink starburst. Still gazing directly at Jackson, who never once looked away, Griffin dove. He parted his lips and sought the tender bud with the tip of his tongue.

  Jackson gasped.

  Griffin probed, licking up and down, thrusting in and out, then clamping his lips on the ring as he ate Jackson out. The smooth, lithe Jack Frost—the Jack Frost—his Jack Frost, writhed as Griffin rimmed him. He sucked, nibbled, and chewed, even as his own spit dribbled into Jackson. It mingled with Jackson’s own naturally occurring lubricants.

  With his tongue still in Jackson’s hole, Griffin slipped a finger inside. He found that one single button of pleasure and tapped. Jackson moaned aloud, and the twinkling stars reflected in Jackson’s eyes seemed to react to his sounds.

  Griffin tapped again, making Jackson’s cock throb and ooze precum. Then he thrust another finger inside Jackson, working them against each other as he spread Jackson open, priming him further. As Griffin took possession of Jackson’s body, he sighed and moaned and grunted. The dancing lights somehow synched with their energy, and it was like they were part of Earth’s core.

  Filled with lust but controlling his desire, Griffin added a third finger. Jackson threw his head back. He cried out, and the lights seemed to hum with a vibration within Griffin that was like the vibration of an orchestra tuning up before a symphony.

  Eyes still locked with Jackson, Griffin pulled away and positioned himself so the head of his cock aligned with the now pulsating ring. He pushed. Slowly.

  Jackson moaned, and the lights shimmered moaning with him. Inch by agonizing inch, Griffin penetrated Jackson, working the entire length of his thick, long, burgeoning cock balls-deep inside his lover, his soul mate. The man he knew he would be with for the rest of his life.

  Griffin leaned forward, pressing his body against Jackson and going even deeper. Jackson quaked from the intensity.

  Pulling out slightly, Griffin then pushed back in. Slowly, he worked up a rhythm he felt he could maintain for as long as Jackson could handle him.

  Nothing mattered at that moment but their union. Nothing could touch, harm, or haunt them. Not Griffin’s mother. Not Black Pete. And certainly not Krampus. They were millions and millions of miles away as Griffin and Jackson became one and their souls merged.

  But all too soon, Griffin felt the familiar sensation as he thrust his hips back and forth, pumping his cock in and out of Jackson. Griffin looked into Jackson’s eyes.

  “I’m close, baby. I’m ready to come. You want it? You want my load?”

  “Give it to me, Griffin. I want to feel your seed—your love—filling me. And as you come inside me, here and now, I give my life to you, Griffin Kloss. I will love you and cherish you for better or worse, in sickness and in health, because until the end of time, we’ll be as one.”

  “Jackson Frost, until my dying days, my life…is…yours!” Griffin thrust a final time and cried out to the world as he came, his gaze still locked with Jackson’s, under witness of the sky, the dancing lights, the stars, and the energy of Earth itself.

  Epilogue

  He awakened suddenly, disoriented. A primal fear took hold, and he imagined he was a lost child, once again outcast unto a dark and dangerous world. Then he realized he did not know who or where he was, let alone how he got there.

  Eyes closed, he retreated into his mind, searching. There was no memory or recollection of who or what or where.

  Perhaps this is death.

  He would have believed it except almost immediately, he grew cognizant of a muffled pounding in his ears, a throbbing in his head and tail. His body pulsed with a heartbeat, and he could have sworn he felt the blood rushing through his veins.

  The dank, earthy scent in the air registered somewhere in his brain, and he knew he must be underground. Instinct told him he lay facedown on something squishy and soft. But he could’ve been hanging upside down or stuck in a crevice.

  He opened his eyes, but there was only darkness. He might as well have kept them closed for all he could see.

  At once, the unbearable weight of millions upon billions and trillions of agonizing seconds seemed to seep into his skin and bones. He felt as though his heart had been pierced. There was still no memory or recollection, only the poignant knowledge that he was no longer a child and that his had been a long and miserable existence. He was old and tired, yet very much alive. The realization and disappointment both dragged at the core of his soul and left him nearly breathless.

  Exasperated, he forced himself to take a deep breath and choked. At least now he knew which way was up. His instinct had been correct, but that was little comfort as he sputtered and expelled the dirt he had inhaled. His tongue gritty with dirt, his heart beat faster, and his lun
gs burned with the fiery anger of having been denied precious oxygen.

  He tried to stand, but there wasn’t enough room. To make matter worse, his tail was caught, trapped under a boulder that had obviously followed him down.

  His shoulders hit something solid about three feet above, and he let himself fall back to the ground. He raised his head and moved it back and forth. The tips of his horns scraped at the earth above him. Loosened dirt and pebbles skittered, pelting his face and hands. His breathing, already rough and ragged, became grittier still.

  Digging his way to the surface was clearly not an option.

  With a groan, he realized he had been entombed. He let out an enormous sigh and closed his eyes.

  Perhaps I should let life slip away…

  There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that if he so wished it, so it would be. Truth be told, there was more than just a tiny part of him longing to embrace the peace he imagined would come with his last breath.

  Then the ground beneath him shifted and he heard a moan.

  Eyes open, he repositioned himself within the confines of the earth not yet collapsed. Uncomfortable in the cramped space, his body contorted and coiled in serpentine fashion, he focused his mind, his senses sharpening.

  Was that a life force he saw flickering faintly before him?

  He closed his eyes once more and focused deeper still. With his very being, it seemed, he listened.

  Yes! There it is.

  A heart beating. Faint, but sure.

  He sniffed at the air. Now that he wasn’t covering the body with his own, he picked up the thick, rich, heavy scent of human blood. He could almost taste the sweet, coppery stuff on his tongue. His stomach growled.

  Suddenly hungry, like an animal salivating over a fresh kill, he hunkered down, his face close to the body—a man from the smell of it—that had broken his fall.

  And yet, the scent was so familiar.

  A memory nagged, and he picked at it. Fascinated, without emotion, he watched as the remembrance slowly revealed itself, as if he were viewing a scene from someone else’s life.