“You’ll see.” Lucas hopped out and jogged around the Prius to open Elliot’s door before he could get to it himself. He held the door open wide and gestured grandly.
“What the hell are you up to?” Elliot asked suspiciously.
“We said we’d exchange our own gifts when we got home, right?” Lucas asked, leading him by the hand and stopping right in front of the garage door.
“Yes…” Elliot looked worried. “But yours isn’t wrapped yet.”
Lucas shrugged and pressed the button on the garage opener in his pocket. “I don’t care about that,” he said as the door began to lift. “I just wanted to surprise you.”
He’d expected to see the car once the door finally finished raising and the automatic light snapped on, but the giant red bow and garland that festooned it were something extra.
Lucas bit his cheek on a grin.
Julio loved to pretend he was a tough guy, but he was a softie at heart. He’d been so embarrassingly eager to do something to repay Elliot for getting him out of jail earlier that year.
“What… is… that?” Elliot breathed, fingers going limp in Lucas’s hand.
Feeling giddy as a kid, Lucas slipped his arms around Elliot’s waist and whispered into his ear, “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“That’s… a…” Elliot spluttered. Lucas wasn’t even sure he’d heard him. “That’s a car!”
Lucas examined the gleaming chrome and glossy black paint with a critical eye.
It was more than just a car. It was a 1969 Dodge Charger, the epitome of classic cool, lovingly restored until every sexy, aerodynamic line sparkled.
Ordinarily, a car like this would be way out of Lucas’s price range, even if it needed work. But this particular vehicle had been completely gutted. Only the frame had still been solid.
“How…?” Elliot’s fingers trembled as they stroked the slope of the rear windshield. “Lucas, this must have cost a fortune!”
“Nah. A customer traded it to me for some work. I warned him it was worth more than what he was asking, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know anything about restoration, and he’d already sold half of it for parts. Squirrels had made a nest in the engine.”
“Restoration?” Elliot’s eyes were dazed. He couldn’t seem to stop stroking the smooth black paint. “But the cost of all the parts!”
“I got it all wholesale. The guys helped me, here and there.” Lucas jammed his fists into his pockets, uncomfortable with all the talk of money. It didn’t matter how much it cost. It only mattered if Elliot liked it. “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Elliot spun on him so fast that he took a step back. He gasped when Elliot threw his arms around his neck and yanked him into a breath-stealing hug. “Lucas… I’m speechless.”
“That’s saying something for a lawyer,” he joked, but Elliot only squeezed him tighter.
“The time and effort this must have taken…” he whispered against Lucas’s throat.
“It was nothing.”
“Is this the reason you’ve been working late?”
He couldn’t help himself. He raised one hand and stroked Elliot’s thick, dark hair. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Lucas.”
His voice was choked with tears. Lucas took him by the jaw and angled his face up to see his eyes. They gleamed in the weak orange glow of the overhead light.
Lucas’s heart thrummed. God, he loved this man.
He couldn’t resist taking his mouth in a hot, fierce kiss. He cradled Elliot’s face in one hand, holding him like he was something precious, because he was.
Elliot sucked gratefully on his tongue, and the kiss spiraled out of his control within seconds.
Lucas groaned and pushed him back against the trunk of the Charger, grabbing him beneath the backs of his thighs and hoisting him up onto the hood.
Elliot gasped into his mouth, hands dropping to brace himself against the car. His thighs split around Lucas’s waist, his heat and hardness radiating through his jeans when Lucas pressed between his legs.
“You’re going to scratch the beautiful paint job on my Christmas present.” Elliot smiled and nuzzled beneath Lucas’s jaw.
“I can repaint it.”
He was already working on the buttons of Elliot’s coat when Elliot grabbed him by the hand. “Wait!” he exclaimed. “You might damage your present.”
Lucas pulled back and frowned. “It’s in your coat?”
“I had it shipped to Mom and Dad’s house. But it isn’t wrapped…”
“I don’t care about that.” He didn’t care about the damn present at all. It didn’t matter what Elliot bought him. He already had everything he needed.
All he wanted in that moment was to have Elliot, warm and naked and pliant beneath him. He wanted to watch Elliot come, hot and white, against the black paint of the car. He’d fantasized about fucking him here the entire time he’d been detailing it.
“No, hold on. I want you to have it now.” Elliot reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope. His fingers shook when he handed it over. “Merry Christmas.”
Curious despite himself, Lucas broke the seal. Inside the envelope were two green and white ID cards. Frowning, Lucas shook them into his palm. “What…?”
“They’re season passes to the Mariners,” Elliot said softly. He fidgeted, unbuttoning his coat and then twisting the button between two fingers. “I couldn’t think of what to get you. Everything seemed like too much or not enough. Nothing was good enough. But that story you told me, about you and your dad, when he bought you baseball tickets for Christmas? The way you smiled when you told that story… that’s the way I want you to smile every time you think of us.”
Lucas stared down at the shiny plastic in his hand, remembering that weekend with his dad. He’d felt so safe, so special. It was one of his happiest memories. Layering that with memories of Elliot somehow felt right.
His heart was pounding in his throat, and he had to swallow a few times before he could find his voice. “You want to take me to a baseball game?” he croaked.
“I’d be happy with you anywhere,” Elliot said simply. “I just want to be with you and spend time with you, no matter what we do. So I guess this is also kind of a gift for me.”
Lucas blinked rapidly, but he didn’t catch the dampness in his eyes fast enough. One hot tear escaped. He viciously scrubbed it away and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Well, I fully admit I’m going to be driving this car sometimes. So, I guess we got each other gifts we can share.”
Elliot gently kissed the salty track on his cheek. “I want to share everything with you.”
“Our whole lives?”
His smile was so beautiful. “And after.”
“I love you,” Lucas rasped, head dropping to rest against Elliot’s shoulder. “I’d give you anything. I’d do anything for you.”
“Just love me,” he whispered.
“I do.” Lucas kissed him tenderly. “I do.”
A Christmas Tail
1
Henry Penwhistle was a dead man, he just didn’t know it yet.
“Are you even listening to me, Kovalenko?” he railed, slamming the flat of his hand on Maksim’s desk. Maksim’s assistant, Jeremiah, jumped and dropped his pen.
Maksim very slowly looked up from his smartphone, where his last three text messages to Val sat unanswered. A muscle ticked beneath his right eye.
“Uh, maybe we should take a coffee break!” Jeremiah blurted, correctly predicting the direction their after-hours meeting was about to head. His eyes were wide with alarm.
Maksim ignored him. Jeremiah was compensated handsomely for the rigors of working with Maksim, and a string of paralegals behind him would be thrilled to take his place.
Penwhistle was a small man – small in stature and in spirit – and Maksim was finished humoring him.
He set his phone down and rose, bracing himself against his desk and leaning toward the client who had made him late for d
inner.
“Mr. Penwhistle,” he purred, “you seem to be under the misapprehension that I work for you.”
“Damn right you do! I dump loads of money into this firm. I want the best representation, and Lockheed tells me you’re it.”
Penwhistle leaned back in his chair and thrust out his jaw, unaware of how petulant he appeared beneath Maksim’s icy regard.
Jeremiah sighed and began packing up his suitcase for the evening.
“I agreed to hear your case as a favor to the senior partners, but I choose my own clients.”
“Fine. What’s your usual fee? I’ll double it.”
Maksim’s lips twitched. “I have money, Mr. Penwhistle. I don’t need more.”
“Then what do you want?”
Maksim sighed and glanced out the bank of windows lining his corner office. Darkness had fallen long ago, and the Portland cityscape spread out beneath them like a tangled string of Christmas lights.
What he wanted was to make it home in time for dinner.
Between his increased workload and Val’s final exams, it felt as if they hadn’t seen each other properly in weeks. They woke up tangled around each other every morning, but a quick, mutual handjob before they rushed out the door was no replacement for the intimacy he craved.
“What I want,” he answered precisely, “is a client who will challenge me. I have no interest in representing a petty defrauder who ruined the lives of dozens of his employees.”
Penwhistle rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the grace to look offended. “Your reputation precedes you, Kovalenko. You didn’t get where you are in life by only defending nuns and kittens.”
“Perhaps not,” Maksim conceded. “But I’m at a point in my career where I can choose not to defend a human cesspool, and the partners won’t say a damn thing about it. Now, I believe we’ve taken up enough of each other’s time.”
Penwhistle flushed and straightened the knot in his tie. “You’re making a mistake,” he blustered.
“I don’t make mistakes,” Maksim replied idly, retrieving his chiming phone as Jeremiah escorted the man from his office.
Disappointment twanged through him when a picture of Emma wearing a blue wig and throwing a peace sign flashed across his screen.
Spending the night at Erika’s. Pick me up there in the a.m.?
“You know Penwhistle is Mr. Lockheed’s cousin, right?” Jeremiah called through his open office door as he began tidying the reception area.
Maksim grunted as he tapped out a text. Who will be there?
The reply chimed instantly. Just us and Preslee. Erika’s mom will be home.
Maksim wracked his brain, trying to remember if she’d ever mentioned someone by that name. It was impossible to keep track of the names and interpersonal dramas of a teenage girl.
Jeremiah poked his head into the office. “I’m headed home, but I’ll keep my phone on, in case you need me. Lockheed isn’t going to be happy.”
“He rarely is,” Maksim muttered, barely paying attention as his assistant clicked off his desk lamp. Only the glow of a fake Christmas tree lit the exterior office.
Be safe. I’m a phone call away, he texted.
The reply was a large kissy face. It made him smile, even as he clicked over to look at his thread of texts from Val, as if one might have slipped by his notice. His texts saying he’d be home late remained unanswered.
Home. He’d never felt much emotion connected to that word before, but that had changed this past year. At the end of every day, the thought of home filled him with relief, washing over him like cool water. Home was the scent of mint shampoo, of gray eyes, and the sound of Emma’s laughter.
He and Val didn’t live out of each other’s pockets, however. It wasn’t strange not to hear back from him right away, especially if Val was neck-deep in his thermodynamics paper, so he wasn’t overly concerned as he began his commute home.
The rain poured down in sheets too thick for his headlights to slice through.
The radio was set where Emma had left it the last time she’d been in his car, on a station that played Christmas carols twenty-four hours a day. Some pop ingénue was crooning Santa Baby and Maksim disgustedly switched to a jazz station.
The commute from his downtown firm to their rural neighborhood on the border of Beaverton took nearly an hour one way. But it was worth it. The peace they felt in their modern faux cabin was something he cherished, even though they were both city boys at heart.
The ordinary practicalities of living on two densely forested acres had taken some getting used to. Screech owls were a nuisance, and he was certain they’d both looked incredibly foolish the morning Val had tried to shoot the opossums digging through their garbage cans.
He hadn’t been able to go through with it once he’d gotten a good look at them, so soft-hearted was Maksim’s Devil Dog.
The digital clock on his dashboard flashed 8:45 by the time he hit the base of their steep driveway. His tires spun in a large puddle before finding traction, then the Mercedes began climbing.
Rows of Ponderosa Pine and Douglas Fir flashed past on both sides of the car, protective as sentinels in the darkness.
The porch light cast a welcoming glow as he pulled into their circular driveway.
Val had said something about hanging Christmas lights, but it didn’t look as if he’d gotten around to it. Maksim had never hung exterior lights in his life, though he was looking forward to helping, providing the rain let up.
His dash to the front door left him soaked, but the house was warm and immediately sucked the chill from his bones.
He kicked off his shoes and shed his dripping raincoat in the entry.
“Val?” he called.
No answer.
Rather than ruin his dignity by wandering the halls and yelling for his lover, Maksim loosened his tie and followed the fragrance of oregano and basil.
The kitchen had an open floor plan and was cozily lit with recessed lighting. A large granite island separated the cooking area from an eating nook.
Val wasn’t there, but three textbooks and a mess of papers lay scattered across the table.
Maksim’s stomach growled as he peeked into a pot on the stove and discovered a simmering batch of Rivetti spaghetti sauce. It looked like it could use a stir, so Maksim dipped in a wooden spoon and gave it a lick before replacing the lid.
The rest of the downstairs was dim and vacant, so he headed up to the bedroom.
In a habit he’d acquired from Val, his fingers lightly touched the two portraits of their parents at the top of the stairs.
The light was on and the door was open in the master bedroom, but Maksim froze at the threshold.
His heart leaped into a triple beat.
Val sat on the floor with his back against the far wall. His large body was folded in on itself, his knees raised to his chest, and his head buried in his arms. Damp hair curled at the base of his neck, and he wore only a pair of blue jeans. His feet were bare.
Maksim didn’t know why the sight of his lover’s naked toes curling into the carpet felt like such a sucker punch right to his gut.
He knew better than to startle him, so he whispered, “Val?”
Val jerked. His head snapped up so fast, it thunked back against the wall.
“Maks!” He jumped to his feet with the same easy grace that Maksim often envied. “Home already, huh? Time flies.”
Maksim watched unhappily as his lover grabbed a t-shirt from the bed and shrugged into it.
Watching Val dress usually gave him such pleasure. Those swells of muscle and miles of tanned skin being covered by a single layer of flimsy cotton did something to him. Like everything else in his life, it made him want to rip through whatever barrier stood between him and his goal. He’d made them both late to all sorts of appointments by indulging his impulse to strip every piece of clothing off Val as soon as he was fully dressed.
Tonight was very clearly not the right time, however.
“Sure.” Val winced. “The shower was too hot. Got a little woozy for a second.”
Valentine Rivetti was a man with an honest nature. He wasn’t a good liar, and he knew it. He rarely attempted to snow Maksim, who sifted through lies for a living. But right then, he couldn’t meet Maksim’s eyes.
“Hey, you hungry?” Val asked brightly. He was already on his way out the door, blowing past Maksim without his usual welcome kiss. “I made Rivetti Spaghetti.”
“I’ll be down after I change,” Maksim replied.
Val was already taking the stairs two at a time. Maksim doubted he’d even heard him.
He stripped off his tie and dress shirt and tossed them on the unmade bed. The corner of the room where Val had been sitting beckoned him, and he lowered himself to the floor.
The carpet was still warm from Val’s body heat. He must have been there for a long time, curled in a ball, refusing to even look at his phone.
Maksim closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
It hurt to see Val in pain, but it hurt infinitely more to know he’d been suffering alone. If only Maksim’s meeting hadn’t run late.
How many nights this month had he gotten home when Val was already asleep? How many of those nights had Val spent huddled defensively against this wall until he’d been able to uncurl his limbs enough to crawl into bed?
“Dammit, Val…” he whispered.
2
Dinner was delicious. It always was when Val cooked. Neither of them were particularly adept chefs, but Val was armed with a handful of traditional Italian recipes from his mother’s kitchen that never failed.
Maksim grated some fresh parmesan while Val poured a glass of red wine and set it in front of him.
The single glass was another warning bell in the back of Maksim’s mind. Alcohol tended to ramp up Val’s anxiety, so he avoided it when he was having a particularly bad day.
The Rules of Gift Giving Page 8