Page 25 of Make You Mine This Christmas
Existing hungover is miserable, I can’t imagine trying to be Santa. “That’s smart.” I put our dishes in the sink and pour myself a drink, taking it easy on the whisky.
I sit back down, not watching the movie on the TV. I’m about to suggest we at least get the tree in the stand, so it can have water and rest its branches overnight when Brody breaks the silence.
“When’s the last time you had sex?”
I have no idea how to answer. “Is this an official question on the record?”
“Sure, why not.” He shrugs and takes the last sip of his drink.
No good can come of this conversation, but apparently the whisky has me feeling a little reckless too. “About two weeks. The night before Thanksgiving.”
He nods. “It was Halloween weekend for me. I was dressed as Captain Kirk and went home with a Luke Skywalker.” He snorts, and the image would be funny in any other situation, but the vision of Brody, naked with someone else, isn’t funny at all.
“Oh.” I grasp for something to say. “You don’t dress up as Santa for Halloween?”Anythingelse might have been better.
“Those suits are way too expensive to go out in. And no. I guess I’ve always thought of Santa as a sexless being. But it probably would pull pretty well, the ultimate Daddy fantasy.”
I choke on the last sip of my eggnog. Daddies have never been my thing, but combining Brody as a bear, plus the way he smells all woodsy, how his beard would tickle along my skin, and the confidence of a daddy is doing something for me. Something very specific, like hardening my dick.
“We could, you know,” Brody says, and I’ve completely lost track of the conversation now.
“We could what?”
“Have sex. The beard comes for free this time of year.”
I blink at him a few times. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you don’t think we should get involved romantically?”
“For one reason, sure.”
“I know you have sex just to have sex, Austin. I do too. With having to chauffeur me around, the packed schedule of the workshop, and the idea of your ex in the next room throwing ice on everything, it’s going to be hard to pick up for a few weeks.”
He’s not wrong, but shockingly, I hadn’t given it a thought until he brought it up. As someone who has a decent amount of sex, you’d think it would have crossed my mind before now. But it never did.
“Santa season is definitely my driest time of the year.” My hands curl in on themselves, hearing Brody being so casual about sex with someone else. Me having sex with other people doesn’t seem to bother him, but apparently I’m not as evolved. “It could be a convenient solution.”
The air between us ripples with tension. I see his chest start to move up and down faster and use every inch of willpower at my disposal not to look down and see if his dick is in the same state as mine.
A car horn blares on the TV and breaks the spell. “I think this might be the eggnog talking,” I say, trying to keep my tone gentle. “I would be taking advantage of you if I agreed to this right now, tonight. I’m going to put the tree in the stand. We can let the branches rest overnight and finish decorating after work tomorrow. You go ahead and go to bed. I promise you won’t want this in the morning.”
Brody stands, not saying anything else. I hope I didn’t ruin what we’ve built by turning him down, but what I said is true. He’s had too much whisky to do anything consensual tonight.
He stops in the entrance to the hallway, right under the mistletoe that started all this trouble. “You’re a good guy, Austin. You know that?”
I shrug, not sure how to answer.
“And what if I still want it in the morning?” he asks, his back to me.
“You won’t,” I say, convinced what I’m saying is true.
He walks away, and I just barely hear him saying, “I wouldn’t count on it,” before he shuts his door.
I rush through getting the tree into the stand and getting the ropes cut off, before adding water to the base. Convinced it’s not going to fall over in the night, I hurry through my bedtime routine and shut myself in my room, cut off from any temptations or bad decisions.
On the dresser, I grab my bottle of melatonin for the first time since Brody came to stay with me. I haven’t had as much trouble sleeping since he arrived, but I don’t trust my mind not to whir with thoughts I don’t want to be having when I lay down tonight. Between the whisky and the gummies, I should be lights out in no time. I drop my clothes on the floor next to the bed and crawl into the sheets in only my Christmas tree boxer briefs. My eyes close and, as I hoped, I have no trouble drifting off.
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