Page 42 of Wrecked for the Holidays

“Hey, hey, you gotta wait for me to get you.”

“Papa, noooo, I wanna give you prezzies.” Jakob’s lip was stuck out so far that it was a wonder it didn’t pop out.

“Did you play, or did you wash?”

Silence.

“Jakob, did you wash yourself, or did you play?”

“Papa, I’ve been home, so not dirty.”

“Well, that tells me youdefinitelydidn’t wash, dirty boy. We gotta scrub you because Santa doesn’t bring presents to naughty boys who don’t get clean.”

“Papa, he didn’t come. I checked this morning.”

“Silly goose! Santa couldn’t come until he knew I was on my way home. C’mon, let’s get you done so we can double-check.”

With that, Jakob let me wash his hair and scrub the rest of them. We sang off-key versions of Christmas carols, mostly involving kissing Santa and Santa Baby, which made Jakob giggle when he did the sexy parts. Once finished, I dressed Jakob in training pants and the same reindeer onesie he wore the day we met. I booped his nose, and when he protested, I smacked his ass.

“Papa! You gotta be nice!”

“Was I not nice?” Because it had been too long since I touched him, I grabbed him by the hips and dragged him close. We were face to face, body to body, cock to cock. His cheeky grin faltered when I thrust against him, and he felt my hard cock. “This is kinda nice, love.”

“Papa, I love you more than anything in the whole world. Even more than I love Christmas, but I’ve been such a good boy and really, really,reallywant to open prezzies now.” He danced from foot to foot in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting and waiting. No peeking…not once. Imma good boy.”

“Yeah, you’re the best boy.” My voice turned soft as I pushed his blond curls out of his eyes.

“Then let’s gooooooooo.”

Jakob howled the last bit before he clutched my hand and dragged me downstairs. At the foot of the stairs, he came to an abrupt stop. From the steps, he just stood and stared at the tree. I hoped it was shocked happiness but his expression was indecipherable.

“Papa,” he gasped. “Oh, Papa. He came! Santa came for me.”

When he choked out the last part, I realized Jakob was trying to hold back tears. His wide eyes shimmered with them and both hands were clasped in front of his chest. His eyes roamed from one package to another, trying to take in the sight in front of him. I knew he didn’t give a damn what was in the packages. Someone took time for him, and not a damn thing else mattered. His eyes stopped roaming when he saw the stuffed octopus sitting in front of the tree.

“Love, why are you crying?”

“Because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Santa”—Jakob gave me a knowing look, and I gave him an indulgent one in return—“cared enough to give me what I’ve never had. How could I not cry?”

“Oh, Jakob, I love you.” I pulled him into my arms and kissed his crown of curls. “I’m so glad you crashed into my truck that day, and I’m extra glad you’re the cutest octopus in the ocean.”

“You sure, Papa?”

“I’m sure, love.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Not more than I love you.”

Epilogue

Reed

“Papa, you sure you want to hard launch us like this?” Jakob asked as he fussed with his outfit.

He’d agonized over what to wear until I picked out slacks and a button-down shirt for him. One thing he’d discovered over the last few months was a love of silly socks. Today was cartoon sloths holding hands on a branch covered by a rainbow. Adorable.

“Yes, you’ve already survived Sunday dinner. Is this that different?” I ducked the towel Jakob threw at my head, grabbed him, and jerked him close to me. “How bad can it be?”

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