Page 15 of Daddy's Christmas Elf
Daddy…
Eli’s breathed out word, accompanied by a soft chuckle, sent an electrified shiver all the way through to Grey’s groin.
“But I think a sit down might help. That and a cake.” Eli looked up him, a wobbly smile on his lips.
“Come on, let me look after you,” Grey said, his voice rough and croaky.
“Seem to be needing a lot of looking after at the moment.”
“Just accept it.”
Eli leaned into Grey. Warm embers glowed bright deep in Grey’s chest, as with his arm tight around Eli, they made their steady way inside.
Like the car park, the shopping centre was a lot less busy than it should have been this close to Christmas, and they easily found a table in a ground floor café.
Making sure Eli was as comfortable as he could be, Grey queued at the counter, all the time keeping an eye on Eli.
Hunched over the table, wrapped up in Grey’s coat, Eli looked like a kid dressed in his big brother’s hand-me-downs.He looks so tired…But it was more than tiredness, more than a few sleepless nights. Eli looked ground down by life. Grey’s stomach clenched. Eli was far too young for the kicks and punches life so casually doled out. The desire, the need, to care for was a wave Grey couldn’t resist. His breath caught hard in his chest. The need to…
Smother, and control.
The words burned through him, the words that had been thrown in his face months and months before. Not care for, not protect, not to cherish, but tosmother and control. Grey shoved his fingers through his hair.
“What? Sorry?”
The young woman behind the counter was looking at him. “What would you like?”
“Sorry, miles away,” he said with a smile, softening the woman’s harassed expression.
A couple of minutes later, Grey set the laden tray down in front of Eli.
“Wow. Hot chocolate with marshmallows. And chocolate fudge cake, too. And what’s this?” Eli looked closer at one of the plates. “Chocolate caramel cheesecake. Looks lovely, all of it. Shame I don’t like chocolate.”
Grey started. “You don’t—?”
Eli chuckled. “I don’tlikeit, Iloveit.”
Grey rolled his eyes. “The sugar should help with the shock, or that’s what I was always led to believe, even though it might rot your teeth and send you spiralling towards diabetes. Which would you like?” Grey nodded towards the two cakes.
“I get to choose between rotten teeth and diabetes? You spoil me.”
Grey stared at Eli’s deadpan expression before he let his head fall back as he laughed, causing nearby customers to turn his way.
Eli grinned. “We can share. Half and half?”
They divided the cakes between them and Eli forked a lump of the gooey chocolate cake into his mouth.
“Ohhhh.” Eli closed his eyes and slumped back into his chair. “I think this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Or maybe the second best.” His eyes snapped open, their opposing colours all but obscured by their black pupils.
Grey’s pulse sped up and his dick filled and pulsed. The chatter in the café faded, replaced by the hard thud of Grey’s heart and the whoosh of blood through his veins. He couldn’t move, he could hardly breath, as all he could do was stare.
Eli blinked and shifted in his seat, breaking through Grey’s paralysis. Redness washed over Eli’s face and he bent forward and gave all his attention to the cake. The sound of the crowd rushed back in, and Grey forced himself to look away, to his own food and drink, wondering for the smallest of seconds what they were and how they’d got there.
“Better?” Grey asked after a minute or two, when he’d taken a few surreptitious deep breaths and got his heart rate, along with his errant dick, back under control.
“Yes, much better thanks. They should prescribe chocolate on the NHS. A bone fide cure for shock. Hmm, lovely. It reminds me of my grandpa. He always used to make me hot chocolate with either cream or marshmallows if I wasn’t feeling well when I was little. Mum and Dad didn’t approve, and they always tried to get him to use some kind of chocolate alternative crap, but he wouldn’thave any of that dippy hippy old shit, he’d say — he might have looked like everybody’s cuddly old grandpa, but he used to swear like a trooper and didn’t give a sod who heard him. He was great.” Eli gave a soft smile. “He always encouraged me. ‘Do what you want to do, lad, don’t go listening to all those fuckers who try and make you do whattheywant you to do. Fuck the lot of ‘em!’”Eli laughed, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s what he used to say, word for word. He said it so many times, it’s engraved on my heart.”
Soon after, with nothing left other than empty mugs and crumb strewn plates, they set off from the café.
