Moaning, he obeyed, licking the earthy, salty fluid from his skin, dipping his tongue between his fingers, his balls twitching at how deliciously dirty it was.
“Can I taste you too, Daddy?” he asked breathlessly.
Nick groaned, urging Hunter to his feet and turning him. Hunter’s legs were jelly, and he happily dropped to his knees between Nick’s thighs, his shaking hands tugging Nick free. The red velvet pants were soft under his palms as he pushed Nick’s legs open wider.
When he took Nick in his mouth eagerly, he imagined what they must look like: Santa in his village, a bare—and red—assed elf between his legs, sucking his big cock. It sent fresh lust rushing through Hunter, and he hummed around the hot flesh filling his mouth.
Nick’s hands tangled in Hunter’s hair. “So good. Yes. Good boy. Harder.”
Hunter hollowed his cheeks, sucking like his life depended on it, and clumsily took hold of Nick’s heavy, hairy balls with his hand. It was clearly the right thing to do, because Nick jerked, his cock choking Hunter as it swelled even bigger.
He came, groaning, his fingers tight in Hunter’s hair. Hunter had to pull back, gasping and swallowing, spit and semen leaking from his mouth. Their eyes locked, and Nick sprayed the last bit of his climax on Hunter’s face, hitting his cheek and wet lips.
“Fuck,” Nick mumbled. He lurched forward and kissed Hunter messily, licking his splattered face and feeding the jizz to him with his tongue, the mingled taste of them both filling Hunter’s mouth.
They parted, breathing heavily. Hunter glanced around, smiling. “Well, I guess Santa’s Village went out with a bang.”
Nick’s laughter rumbled in his chest, a grin brightening his face. There was a white streak in his beard, and Hunter swiped at it with his finger and sucked it clean. “Am I on the nice list now, Santa Daddy?”
Nick chuckled. “Yes. Maybe I should keep the suit?”
“Hell yes.”
“You realize you’re keeping yours too. Santa needs his elf, after all.” He ran his hand tenderly over Hunter’s bare ass, the skin still hot from the spanking. Hunter wished he could see how red it was. Nick added, “No one else will ever get to see you in this costume but me.”
Ever.
Thrilling at Nick’s words, Hunter leaned up and kissed him, sucking on Nick’s tongue before pulling back to whisper against his lips, “Only you, Daddy.”
Chapter Nine
“Are you sure about this?” Hunter asked. “You’ve already donated your time in Santa’s Village.”
Dawn still streaked the cloudy sky orange over the horizon of snow-capped green, but Nick and Hunter were already out on a distant acre. Nick nodded. “I’m sure.” He’d agreed, and it really was for a good cause.
Hunter bit his lip, his cheeks pink in the crisp, cold morning air. The pom-pom on his woolen hat bounced as he shifted boot to boot. “But I kind of forced you into hosting this fundraiser. I mean, you couldn’t really say no.”
“I tried,” Nick noted dryly, but he didn’t really mind.
You already can’t deny him anything, can you?
Nick couldn’t argue with Eric’s sly observation. To Hunter, he added, “I hate to think of kids without a Christmas tree. John’s worked his ass off to collect presents and food for these families. They need trees to put the toys under.”
Hunter beamed at him like a heart-eyes emoji come to life, and Nick had to smile back. Hunter said, “You’re really just a big softie, you know that?”
He’s right, of course. Smart lad, and you should keep him around.
Grumbling with an exaggerated scowl, Nick fired up the chainsaw, cutting off the light, cheery sound of Hunter’s laughter. He felled a Scotch pine that could have grown another year but was plenty big enough to fill a living room corner.
There was a ton to do before the fundraising event for Toys and Turkeys that afternoon, so they’d woken early. Nick had wanted to stay snuggled under the covers with Hunter warm and sweet in his arms, kissing Nick’s chest and neck, his hair sticking up adorably. But he had to plow a makeshift parking lot in the small field to the east of the head of his driveway after they dealt with the trees.
Hunter heaved up the tree and put it through the baler, and they fell into a rhythm that was already shockingly familiar. Hunter had taken to the work like a fish to water, and pride flowed through Nick as he watched Hunter stacking a few baled trees.
Hunter glanced up when he was done. “What?” He smiled uncertainly. He breathed a little heavily, puffs of air clouding in the cold.
“Nothing.” Nick turned to the next grid, sawing through the trunk of another pine.
The thing was, after the holidays this would all be over. Nick would be back out on the land on his own. Ella barked in the distance, as if to remind him he wouldn’t be completely alone. He just hoped she hadn’t discovered a skunk den.
He sighed to himself as he sawed another tree. After so many years of solitude, it was ridiculous that he didn’t want Hunter to leave. That the thought of a quiet January and February—months when he didn’t work as much and caught up on reading, watching TV, and generally hibernated—filled him with dread.
You’ve been alone too long and you know it, my love. He fits with you. Birds of a feather, like the song goes.
Nick argued with Eric in his mind, which was insane since it wasn’t actually Eric. He argued that Hunter was too young, and surely he’d want to go back to Toronto and date other men and live his life. Not be stuck in the middle of nowhere with Nick.
Eric calmly refuted the arguments, and Nick couldn’t get “Sleigh Ride” out of his head, humming it under his breath and sneaking glances at Hunter.
It had snowed again, and they stood in it up to their knees aside from the space he’d plowed for the baler. The boughs of the trees were heavy with fluffy, slightly wet snow—perfect for making snowmen. It was five degrees below freezing, and the wind was calm, the perfect winter weather. Cold enough not to be slushy, but not biting and unpleasant.
Turning off the chainsaw, Nick called, “Do you want to chop down the last one?”
Hunter’s face lit up. “Yeah? Okay.” He brushed dead needles from his gloves and neared. He’d learned the axe well, although it was tough work since he was slight. Nick handed him the chainsaw.
“Whoa.” Hunter held it uneasily. “Heavy.”
“Safety’s obviously the most important thing,” Nick said, taking him through the ins and outs, Hunter listening carefully and nodding.
When Hunter felled the tree with the chainsaw, he whooped with joy, making sure to turn the machinery off properly and engage the safety lock. “I did it!” He put down the chainsaw on a tarp spread on the snow.
“You did.” Nick grinned at him, spreading his legs and digging in when Hunter threw himself into his arms.
“Thank you.” Hunter kissed him. “For everything. I never thought I’d be good at stuff like this.”
“You’re very good at it.” Nick nipped his jaw. “This, and…other things.” He’d tried to maintain a businesslike manner when they were out on the farm, but what the hell. “We’d better load up these trees and get back to the house. John and Des will be here soon to help set up.”
“I hope it’ll go okay.” A furrow appeared between his brows. “Maybe I should have—”
“It’s going to be perfect. Trust me.”
Exhaling, Hunter nodded. “I do.” He smiled softly, kissing Nick again, and Nick held him close, deciding they could take a few more minutes.
There were so many people.
Nick leaned against the barn, the inside of which was off limits to visitors, a no-entry sign tacked to the sliding door. The many, many visitors had started arriving at eleven sharp, and somehow, they just kept coming as the afternoon wore on.
That’s a good thing, remember?
“Yeah, yeah,” Nick muttered to Eric’s teasing voice. But it was a good thing, and though he’d needed to escape the crowd for a few minutes,
he was undeniably pleased.
Hunter and John had planned an incredible event in only two days. In the open space near the barn, they’d set up a dozen folding tables and chairs lent by one of the local churches. They’d decorated the tables with garlands and hung the barn door with a massive fresh wreath strung with red ribbon. Nick had cut the big boughs for the wreath and other hanging decorations.
Des was judging the hourly snowpeople-making contest, and children laughed and shrieked, snowballs flying. Adults stood in clumps, chatting and sipping coffee, cider, or hot chocolate. The propane barbecues roasted a steady supply of hot dogs and chestnuts, and families sat at the tables eating eagerly.
John had borrowed a portable sound system to play carols, protected under a tarp from the gentle flurries that had started around noon as more clouds had moved in. The weather was meant to stay calm, though, and Nick hoped the weather report was correct this time.
What, you don’t want to be snowed in with all these people? Eric teased. Just Hunter. Can’t say I blame you.
Still, Nick had to admit it was nice seeing people so happy and festive. He’d talked to folks he hadn’t seen in years, even some old friends who’d come at John’s invitation. They’d ohhed and ahhed over Hunter, and Nick had found himself making dinner plans, only half-reluctantly.
The raffle to cut down your own tree had proved a big success. They’d drawn one winner earlier since people were coming and going, and would do another soon. It had actually been all right to take the winner onto the farm and show him how to use the axe to chop. Hunter had come along, beaming.
And of course Ella was in her element, ecstatic over so many new people to meet and all the attention she was getting. Nick watched her with a smile, his gaze then finding Hunter. His smile deepened, warmth filling his chest.
At a table, Hunter leaned over craft supplies—Styrofoam balls, spray paint, glitter, and macaroni—helping a little girl make a tree ornament. He was patient as the girl fumbled, and though Nick was too far away to hear what he was saying, he knew Hunter was being kind to her.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted Hunter too much. Not just in his bed, but…all the time. Which was ludicrous since they’d known each other barely more than a week.
We knew after the first date. Do you remember? Eric asked.
Memories wheeled through Nick’s mind—the coffee date that had become lunch, and then dinner at another restaurant, then drinks, then back to Eric’s house for a night of sex. They’d been inseparable after.
Perhaps this is just how it goes with you. Hunter’s practically moved in already, and you don’t want him to go anywhere. Do you?
Boots crunched in the snow, approaching, and Nick pushed away the thoughts and Eric’s imaginary voice, tearing his gaze from Hunter, who clapped as the girl held up her macaroni creation.
Nick focused on a woman who neared the barn. She was perhaps a little older than he was, small and golden-haired, a little plump in a puffy red ski jacket, her cheeks pink under a hat with reindeer antlers. When she smiled tentatively, he knew, recognizing the shape of her mouth.
“Nick? I don’t know if you remember me.”
He stood up straight, pushing away from the side of the barn. “Pam, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She glanced over at Hunter. “You and my son have been getting to know each other.”
“We have,” Nick agreed, trying to keep his voice even. He was forty-six goddamn years old, yet he felt like a schoolboy picking up his prom date with a cheap corsage in his sweaty hands. Not that he had ever done that. He’d gone to the prom with a lesbian friend.
“He’s quite taken with you,” Pam said. “To be honest, I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Neither do I.”
She laughed. “I appreciate the honesty.”
He shoved his gloved hands in the pockets of his dark coat. “I never planned on this. Or expected it. Not in the slightest.”
“I believe that.” She brushed a snowflake from her nose. “I haven’t seen him this happy in… In a long time. He’s been so anxious and unsure of what to do with his life.”
“Yes. I suppose he should go back to Toronto in the new year. Give it another go.”
She frowned. “I suppose. But I’m not so sure.”
Despite himself, Nick’s heart skipped. “No?”
“He’s been so hung up on what he should do. Get a ‘real’ job in an office. Even if it makes him miserable.” She looked over to where Hunter now chatted with an adult couple, gesturing animatedly toward the acres of trees that extended off into the distance. “He’s really enjoyed the work here.”
“He’s a fast learner.”
“You seem to give him confidence. That’s a big point in your favor.”
Nick chuckled. “Good to know.”
Her smile faded. “I just don’t want my son’s heart to get broken. I know you suffered a great loss with Eric. He was a wonderful man.”
Throat suddenly thick, Nick nodded.
“Please make sure you know what you’re doing. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ve been on the receiving end of that. I don’t want it for Hunter. If this is only a Christmas fling, that’s fine—just make sure he knows that. If you can’t give him more, be upfront. That’s all I ask.”
Nick nodded again and cleared his throat. “Fair enough.”
She smiled. “All right. I’ll see you for Christmas dinner, I understand? I look forward to it.”
“Me too.”
As she walked away, a little tug of panic bloomed. Did he know what he was doing? More than just fucking Hunter, he was practically living with him already. Having Christmas dinner with his mother.
He’d told Hunter he wanted to continue on with whatever it was between them, and he did. But what was growing between them? It was happening so quickly. Was Nick making promises he couldn’t keep?
The carols and shrieks of laughter and all the people were entirely too much now, and he escaped into the dark cold of the barn, closing the door firmly behind him. It smelled of pine and earth, faint light filtering in through gaps in the wood.
The last thing he wanted was to break Hunter’s heart—or his own.
Chapter Ten
Inhaling the cold night air deeply, Hunter ran after Ella behind the house toward the river, his legs straining in the drifts. She barked around the rubber chicken in her mouth as if to complain he was too slow, racing back to drop it into the unbroken snow at his feet. Laughing, he threw it again, and she bolted off in pursuit.
He was wonderfully exhausted and a little too full of leftover hot dogs. The fundraiser had been a huge success, and Hunter felt stupidly proud of himself. Of course John had done a lot of the work, but Hunter had planned the crafts and stuff for the kids, and everyone had seemed to have fun.
Well, perhaps everyone but Nick, who had been broody and quiet that evening. He’d been friendly enough to people earlier, but all the interacting had clearly worn on him. Hunter’s mom said she and Nick had “had a little talk,” which was so mortifying he hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Nick how embarrassing she’d been.
Nick hadn’t been overly grumpy during dinner, but he hadn’t said much, seeming preoccupied. Hunter had shut up and let him watch the episode of the latest superhero show they’d cued up on Netflix.
Ella slid to a stop at his feet, and Hunter whirled and threw the rubber chicken again. This time, it sailed across the frozen water and landed on the ice near the far side, a wind tunnel created by the nearby tree line having driven most of the snow on the river clear. But Ella skidded to a stop, whining by the edge.
Hunter laughed and called, “Come on, go get it!”
But she wouldn’t budge, so Hunter carefully tested the ice and slid onto it, his arms out for balance. The small river likely wasn’t very deep, and it felt frozen solid beneath his boots. He made his way across and bent to snatch up the chicken.
“Get off the ice!”
&
nbsp; Hunter whirled around, his heart jumping, wheeling his arms to stay on his feet. Nick’s voice had boomed in the peace of the night, and it took Hunter a moment to understand why Nick was shouting, stalking closer, inexplicable fury vibrating from him.
As it hit Hunter that Ella had likely been trained not to go on the ice—and that it was for a very particular reason—he gasped and slip-slid back toward shore, which was only ten feet or so, Ella barking from the edge.
Hunter was almost there when Nick grabbed him, lifting him practically off his feet. He felt like he was soaring the rest of the way to solid ground, landing with a thud, his hat falling off. Nick’s eyes were wild, his bare fists gripping the front of Hunter’s jacket. He was out in just his jeans and plaid flannel shirt, no hat or coat or any winter gear.
Their breath clouded together in sharp bursts. Maybe Hunter should have been afraid with Nick towering over him, but he wasn’t. Not at all. He could see the raw terror beneath Nick’s fury, and he grabbed around Nick’s waist, holding on tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Nick shook his head, his fingers twitching where he held onto Hunter’s coat, his whole body shaking. Hunter pulled him close, trying to hug him.
“It’s okay,” Hunter murmured. “Everything’s okay.”
Nick exhaled a mighty breath that sounded close to a sob, collapsing against him. Hunter staggered under his weight but dug his heels into the snow. No way in hell he was letting go. He pulled off his glove so he could run his fingers through Nick’s hair and feel him, the hot gusts of Nick’s breath moist against his neck.
“I’m here,” Hunter whispered. “It’s okay.”
But Nick shoved away from him. He swiped a hand across his face. His voice was hoarse. “No. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. It’s a mistake.”
Now fear snaked through Hunter, ice down his spine. “What do you mean?”
Nick drew himself up, steel in his voice, like the standoffish, haughty man Hunter had first met in that storeroom. “This was a mistake, having you here. You should go.”
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