Table of Contents

Title Page
Dedication
Book Details
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five

The Counterfeit Claus

A Rescue Twinks Novel #0.5

Cherie Noel

This story is dedicated to N.J. Nielsen, Tracy Tucker

Faul, Val Hughes, Amara Devonte, for each and every little
thing they do… and of course, to the evil urchin who
sparked off the idea for the Rescue Twinks by spilling
glitter all over my house. Thanks, kidlet!

...and as always, every story I will ever write is for my
Balthazar, and the sweet, wild, half-fae wench who led me
to his door. Yes, yes, I do mean you, naughty Countess J.

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except the land of UtaDamDenial. It is also a blatantly
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It takes the author’s hard earned ducats (that’s greenbacks

to you) right out of their pockets.

Just don’t do it.

Book Details

Cover Artist: A.J. Corza

Editor: Val Hughes

The Counterfeit Claus © 2012 Cherie Noel

ISBN # CN001

Attention Readers: This book uses Ameriglish. English

speakers from other countries should consider themselves
warned… there will be donuts rather than doughnuts.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not

be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole
or in part, without express written permission of the
publisher. All characters and events in this book are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead
is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being
used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in
the Licensed Art Material is a model.

PUBLISHER: Rocking Rooster Publications

~~yes, yes… we’re a wee little house, but we’ve got the

rockin’ cock-a-doodle-doo~~

TRADEMARKS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and

trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in
this work of fiction:

Jeep: © 2012 Chrysler Group LLC

Starbucks: © 2012 Starbucks Corporation

Dunkin’Donuts: © 2011. DD IP Holder LLC.

YouTube: © YouTube LLC.

Danger Mouse: © Nickelodeon, originated by Cosgrove-

Hall

***

Additional Acknowledgements:

Names

Justin Bieber

Michael Clarke Duncan

Ft. Leonard Wood

St.Nick

Chapter One

The sound of Justin Bieber’s twinkish tenor crooning his

latest hit carved a jagged little hole into the velvety silence
cocooning Devon. He groaned, flailing one long arm towards
the pesky little voice. What the hell was Justin Bieber doing
in his bedroom anyway? A high note reverberated in his
ears, exhorting him to just open his eyes and—Devon
snagged his cell phone, flipping it open.

“Sot—” The thick southern twang combined with the use

of his last name—or at least a portion of it—told Devon who
his caller was before his sluggish brain caught up to the
irony of a Bieber song announcing anything to do with “the
one and only Michael Rose, badass extraordinaire.”.

“Rose, you are so fucking dead.” Devon’s voice crawled

up out of his chest like a snarling, slavering beast. “You
know I worked the show up on campus last night before my
regular job. Christ man, I musta told you five hundred times
how geeked I was to finally get a gig with campus security,
even if—”

“Sargent So—” The silence after Rose’s bitten off

utterance had Devon rubbing at his eyes and trying to figure
out why in the hell Rose would be calling him at the ungodly
hour of ten-thirty am.

Well, it was ungodly for someone who’d been at work

until well after seven in the morning. Devon lost a good

fifteen seconds musing about how he should have gone
straight to bed when he got home. He rubbed a hand across
his stubble covered jaw. Instead he spent time he could have
used to sleep obsessing over the hottest guy he’d ever seen.
Devon spotted Hottie McHotpants walking across campus
two days ago with Roses’ younger brother, Sam. The guy
with Sam was a pocket sized piece of perfection with the
most delicious ass and—

A hideous retching sound spilling from the tiny speaker at

the top of his phone snapped his attention back to the present.
Devon sat up in bed, clapping a hand over his mouth as his
own stomach clenched and roiled in sync with the vile
squelching sounds coming from the other end of the phone.

“Jesus Christ, Kid. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rose grunted. There was an ominous splashing noise

accompanied by a low, piteous sounding moan. A couple of
gnarly, lung-and-stomach-clearing hacks later, his normally
honey drenched voice rasped over the line. “Sergeant Soto.
Sarge. I need a real favor. I’m due at work in like, an hour.
Already talked to my boss, and he said as long as I have a
replacement he won’t write me up as a late call-off. Please,
Dev. You know the gig—the Santa thing, just like we did
during the last deployment, but usually with less camouflage
and swearing.”

Devon reached over to turn on the faux oil lamp he used

as a bedside light. His mother was always foisting off

kitschy stuff on him. He would never in a million years admit
to anyone how much he actually liked the weird things him
mom gifted him with. A small smile graced his generous
lips. His madre was a hot mess, but he loved her beyond all
reason and respected her right down to the soles of her feet.
One of the things she’d drummed into him long before the
Drill Sergeants at Fort Leonard Wood got their hands on him
was that he was never to let down a friend in need.
Scrubbing a hand along his jaw, Devon resigned himself to a
grueling twenty-four hours before he could sleep again.
“Rose, are you trying to say you want me to fill in at your job
at the mall?”

A weak chuckle greeted his statement. “Yeah, could you?

You’re the only one I know who’s worked there before, and
fits my suit—I’d hate to screw Andy over after he bent over
backwards to fit my work shifts around my classes.”

Devon groaned. “Andy’s okay with me filling in for you?”

The relief in Rose’s tone was palpable. “Yeah, in fact he

suggested I ask you.”

Swinging his legs off the bed and grabbing his favorite

jeans off the floor, Devon grunted. “Huh. I just bet he did.”

A pained sigh sounded over the phone. “Dev, I’m sorry I

—”

Yanking the faded denim over his lean hips, Devon

sighed. He picked up his tee shirt from the day before,

sniffed it, and shuddered. Nope, the shirt was so far beyond
wearable it should come with a bio-hazard warning. He
turned, walking toward the dark wood dresser against the far
wall. “Not your fault man. We just didn’t fit. Not Andy’s
fault. I was the one too uncomfortable to work there again
this year. Me. Just—drop it, okay?”

After a beat of silence Rose’s voice came back. “Okay. I

meant it when I promised to not try to set you up with
anymore of my old high school buddies. Is that alright?”

Devon snorted. Sometimes the kid was so damned

dramatic. Really, how many of his school pals could
possibly be gay? Recalling what Rose had told him about the
group he hung out with in high school, Devon corrected his
thought on the matter. Rose had been friends with a
disproportionately high number of gay and bi kids in school.
Devon took another step forward and then yelped as his bare
toes connected with the one of his five pound weights.
Mierda, he’d forgotten about leaving those out yesterday.
Rose’s voice came with less Deep South honey and more
combat medic concern this time. “Dev, what happened?”

Rustling cloth on the opposite end of the connection had

Devon barking at Rose as though he were still the man’s
squad leader. “Lay your ass back down, Rose. I stubbed my
toe. Christ, Kid, one day you’ll be the death of me, but—”

Rose grunted, and a muffled thud told Devon the younger

man had just obeyed him. “Hell, Sarge, I know how that

ends. Today ain’t the day, right?”

Devon paused long enough to pull a plain black tee-shirt

out of the middle drawer and slip it over his head. Spying the
bottle of his favorite cologne, Drakkar Noir, sitting dead
center on the top of the dresser, Devon sprayed a shot on as
he checked himself out in the mirror. Same brown hair, same
brown eyes as always. Same faintly olive skin two shades
lighter than that of all his cousins, because his madre had
gotten pregnant by what she called a beautiful Englishman.
Seeing as how it happened during her senior class trip,
Devon had to agree with his Abuelo when he called the man
an unscrupulous cabron.

Devon eyed himself drolly. If his madre, Rosario Soto,

had picked a nice Puerto Rican man like the rest of his aunts,
then the dark circles under his eyes might not be so damn
apparent. He snorted. The sleep deprived smudges were
familiar from both his military stint and more recently from
working two jobs and going to school full time. They were
not his best look. He sprayed on another spritz of Drakkar to
compensate for his haggard appearance, answering Rose as
he did so. The kid had always been his favorite soldier, even
though squad leaders weren’t supposed to have favorites.

Devon’s exasperated smile shaped the sound of his voice.

“That’s right, kid. You still use the same locker combo?”

Rose coughed, one of those polite little coughs people

gave when they were embarrassed as shit and didn’t know

what to say. “Ah… yeah.”

Devon rolled his eyes.

Rose grunted. “Stop rolling your eyes, Dev. I only keep

the stupid suit there. I hate learning new combos and
passwords and shit.”

Devon sighed. Narrowing his eyes, he dropped his keys

into his pocket and sat back on the edge of the bed to pull his
socks on. “Not addressing that right now. You better believe
we’re gonna deal with your lack of security as soon as you
feel better.”

Rose full out whined. “Aw, Sarge, come on. That’s not

fair.”

Devon shrugged regardless of the fact that Rose couldn’t

see him. Snagging the edges of the duvet cover, blanket and
top sheet all at once he flipped them all up over his queen
sized bed. He shifted the phone back to his shoulder to free
both hands. Devon straightened and smoothed the covers.
“Life’s not fucking fair, Rose. I’ve been telling you for three
years now that you need to get serious about protecting your
identity. If it takes me kicking your ass at the gym to get my
point across, then so be it.”

The petulance in Rose’s voice could be spread with a

trowel. “Dev, you’re being a dick.”

Damn, the guy only got whiny like this when he was really

sick. “Rose, is someone there with you?”

No answer came for a moment. Devon opened his mouth

to ask the question again when Rose’s response came over
the line. “Not exactly.”

Devon shook his head. Leaving his bedroom he strode

into his living room and swiped his brown leather bomber
jacket up from the couch on his way to the front door. “Not
exactly had better mean you already called your brother and
you’re just waiting for him to show up or I’m going to call
him myself.”

Rose laughed weakly again. “Better. Mom’s coming.”

Devon’s shoulders dropped down a whole inch at those

words. “You mean Mrs. Jimenez, the woman who mentored
your Gay-Straight Alliance club all during high school?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She just has to drive over. I think

she’s gonna bring me back to her house if she doesn’t take
me to the hospital.” Rose’s voice faded at the end of the
sentence, signaling his exhaustion.

Pulling the front door open, Devon patted his pockets to

make sure he had everything as he answered. “Okay. I’m just
leaving the house now. You’re lucky I showered before I
went to bed this morning, or I’d never have made it to the
mall in time. Don’t worry Rose— I’ll be there in plenty of
time for your shift. Feel better, and make sure Mrs. Jimenez
has my number in case you need anything.”

Rose mumbled a farewell, and disconnected after

slurring out something Devon thought was supposed to
indicate giving Mrs. Jimenez Devon’s cell number.

Shaking his head, Devon pulled his phone away from his

ear and spoke to the blank screen. “Kid, you are still a mess.
I sweartagod, you and mi Madre are cut from the same
cloth.”

Stepping out into the chilly air, Devon pulled his sturdy,

solid wood door closed. He checked the door handle to
make sure the locking mechanism had engaged, and then slid
his key into the deadbolt to engage that lock as well.
Nodding to himself, Devon jogged down his front steps and
headed down the block to the cross street he’d been forced
to park on the night before. He should have enough time to
swing through a drive-thru to get coffee for the drive over to
the mall. Devon figured he’d need every drop of caffeine he
could squeeze into his body today, tonight and tomorrow
morning. At least the Santa gig would be over before he was
tired enough to forget he was a civilian now. He snorted,
pulling his gloves out of his jacket pocket as he reached his
Jeep. The shiny black paint job made him smile even though
he had to wash the damn thing twice a week in the winter to
keep his poor baby from looking like some kind of car hobo.

Clicking the auto-lock device on his keys, Devon cracked

a smile. At least Betsy hadn’t been parked long enough to
build up a heavy coating of snow. Hey, if he couldn’t find a
silver lining in almost any situation, he wouldn’t be Rosario

Soto’s son. The jeep cranked up beautifully. Devon sat for a
full five minutes to warm the engine before he considered
pulling out to start toward—no, Starbucks was in the wrong
direction—double D’s it was, then. He’d get a little caffeine
boost, and then get two of the biggest damn dark roast
coffee’s he could get once he got to the mall. Course plotted,
Devon eased the stick into first gear. In thirty-six hours or so
he’d be back, and his bed would be waiting for him.

****

“Shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiitttttt!” The quiet popping, ripping

sound of his elf hose giving way sent Adrien’s heart into a
triple-time rhythm that could only be considered a good thing
if he were trying to win a Salsa Dance competition worth a
year’s entry free of cover charge at his favorite club. He so
did not have time for this.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I picked up a new pair last

night before we left. If I hit the lights right, I might be able to
shave enough time off the drive to get there on time. God, it
would be so much easier to just live at home with mom and
dad some days.” His huge black cat, aptly named Michael
Clarke Duncan, blinked skeptical green eyes at him. Adrien
blushed.

“Fat lot you, know, Michael. And I am gonna get my ass

chewed by Andy.” Adrien huffed out a breath. Andy still
hadn’t forgiven Adrien for going away for a year after high
school.

Adrien blew a puff of air up toward his forehead in an

attempt to move the long lock of unruly brown bang off his
face. The offending hair wafted up for a moment. As soon as
he stopped blowing upward his silky bang drifted right back
down over the right side of his face. He grabbed a plain gray
pair of sweatpants out of his dresser, because there was no
way he could be seen outside in the hot-pants Andy insisted
were simply perfect for all the elves. The things clung to
Adrien’s ass so tightly it was a wonder mall security didn’t
try to arrest him for solicitation every day he worked. To be
fair, Adrien did have a bigger butt than most of the elves. On
the rest of them the damn things looked… cute, and
respectably elfish. Only on Adrien did they look like go-go
boy attire. He caught a quick glance at the clock on his
bedside table, and started to really hustle.

Hopping on one foot, attempting to pull the sweats up

while he tucked his newly highlighted hair behind his ear
Adrien lost his balance. The hand that had been fixing his
hair flailed out, thunking against something soft and furry.
Michael the cat squalled out an indignant mewling noise.
With a hiss, he ran across Adrien’s stomach and chest en
route for the bedroom door.

Adrien lay for a moment, looking up through the brown

and gold strands of his hair. Heaving a sigh, he swiped the
stuff out of his face again. Michael Clarke Duncan yowled
loudly from the living room. Cripes, it was a good thing Sam
wasn’t here. The whole humiliating episode would surely be

hitting Sam’s “Dumb-Shit Adrien Does” YouTube channel
right about now if Sam wasn’t off somewhere with the study
group he’d put together from his fellow nursing students.

Bounding up off the bed, Adrien hesitantly turned to the

mirror hanging on the back of his closet door. His bare chest
had a couple of ugly scratches, but thankfully they weren’t
bleeding badly. Even better, the cat’s claws entirely missed
his face. He so didn’t want to be the guy who scarred some
little kid’s psyche and ruined Christmas for them forever
with visions of evil elves. That kind of stuff was best left to
their parents. A quick tally of his features assured him he
was still passably handsome. If you asked him, his lips were
a touch too thin, and his eyes a little too big, giving him an
almost anime character look. He cast a glance over his
shoulder. It was a darn good thing he’d gotten his mama’s
gorgeous booty in the DNA lotto, or he’d have to work a lot
harder for dates.

Hurrying into his private bath Adrien wet a washcloth,

dabbed at the bloody stripes across his chest and the two
divots on his stomach. He quickly dabbed the spots dry with
a wad of toilet tissue. Sam was such a worry-wart, and the
sight of bloody tissues in the shared bath in the hallway of
their two bedroom apartment could only end with the brat
making a panic call to their mom. Adrien shuddered. Their
mom was amazing… and sometimes, she was just a touch
overwhelming.

Adrien sighed as he slipped on a tight fitting green tee

shirt. Then he put on the dizzying green and red top half of
his elf uniform. He put his shiny green elf-a-go-go shorts into
his back pack. In his head, Adrien always called them go-go
shorts. Without the opaque tights under them that’s what they
looked like on him. He shoved his feet into his sneakers—the
pointy toed leather elf shoes stayed in his locker at the mall
so he wouldn’t ruin them in the snow—and dashed towards
his front door, only tripping over Michael Clarke Duncan
twice on the way out.

Chapter Two

The awkward moment Devon expected when he saw

Andy again showed up like a spoiled debutante at a
weeklong party with free cocaine. He groaned inwardly,
plastering a fake smile on his face. He had tried to tell Andy
right from the start that he wasn’t looking for anything more
than a quick fuck back when they met. Andy was cute as hell,
and frighteningly capable of twisting anything said to him to
match what he wanted the speaker to say. He wasn’t a bad
kid—and at eight years younger than Devon chronologically
and lifetimes younger in experience he definitely seemed like
a kid to Devon. Andy was in love with being in love, and he
fell in love at the drop of—well, not a hat, but surely at the
drop of a couple of pairs of pants.

Devon, unfortunately didn’t find that particular tidbit of

information out until after he’d fucked the kid silly for an
entire weekend. Damn Corporal Michael Rose for not
warning him about Andy the second he invited Devon to
come home to Syracuse for a visit when their leaves lined up
so perfectly. Devon’s annual leave started at the same time
as the start of Rose’s terminal leave. With his mother out of
the country visiting relatives Devon didn’t care to see in
Puerto Rico, Devon was at loose ends. Going home with
Rose had made perfect sense, and would have been a perfect
vacation if Rose had given him an appropriate situation
report.

If Devon had known that the sweet assed nineteen year-

old would be picking out matching china the second he
tapped said luscious ass he would fucking well have steered
clear. He ground his molars together as quietly as possible
and concentrated on being polite. He couldn’t stop himself
from arching an eyebrow at Andy’s perfectly made up and
carefully stoic expression. He nodded at the other man.
“Andy. You look well. Which locker is Michael’s?”

Christ, he should never have given in to his boredom on

that trip. It wasn’t like he’d needed to take a temporary job
during his leave. Worse yet, he’d made assumptions about
Andy, and he’d never meant to leave the kid heart-broken
when he went back to Germany. It had actually been Andy’s
tear stained letter that made him reconsider re-enlistment.
Not that Devon had any designs on the kid—far from it. In
fact, given Michael’s response to the whole of “Andy-gate”,
Devon had feared losing the best friend he’d ever had. He
and Michael discussed the incident exactly once. Devon
apologized for hurting Michael’s friend. Michael punched
him in the jaw hard enough to knock him on his ass. Devon
sat on the floor, readjusting his whole thought process about
how badly he’d fucked up while he moved his jaw gingerly
from side to side. Then he said the three words that salvaged
their friendship. “I didn’t know.”

Michael stretched a hand down, pulled him up into a hug,

and told Devon the beers were on him for the rest of his trip.
Devon figured the money spent paying a healthy sized bar tab

was the least he could have lost.

Andy was talking again, tucking a hank of silky blond hair

behind his almost girlishly delicate ear. Devon had no idea
what he’d said while Devon was strolling down memory
lane. “Sorry, could you say that again? I kind-of drifted off a
little. I worked all night last night… but don’t worry, I’ll be
okay for the shift. I just need another cup of coffee.” Devon
lobbed his Dunkin’ Donuts extra-large cup into the trash can
in the corner of the small locker room.

“I said Michael’s locker is number seventeen.” Andy’s

big dark blue eyes were heavily lined with black and his hair
was a shockingly bright blond Devon didn’t remember from
his previous encounters with the younger man. Whatever the
reason for his new and improved look, Andy’s voice was
still the same, low and husky. No wonder he’d managed to
bend a straight arrow like Rose around… hell, the kid was
cute enough to have the Pope waving a rainbow flag.

Andy gave him a shaky smile, finger-combing his long

bangs down to frame his incredible sapphire eyes. “Did
Michael say what was wrong? He sounded really sick, and
he still made sure we were covered… oh, gosh, it’s almost
time to open the village. Can you get into costume and meet
me out by Santa’s chair? I’m afraid there’s something going
around, and one of our elves is out sick as well, and Adrien,
the other elf isn’t here yet. Well, that’s not unusual, because
Adrien is almost always late. We’ve learned not to expect
him until fifteen minutes to a half an hour after his shift starts.

If it’s longer than that we call the hospitals to find out how
late he’s going to be.”

The stiff feeling in Devon’s cheeks eased as Andy turned

his attention to things other than gazing soulfully at him. He
liked the genuine concern for Rose in the kid’s sexy voice,
and after he caught the other worker’s name, he tuned out
most of what Andy had to say about the guy. Devon snorted.
Though, given the little bit he’d actually caught about what
Andy said about Aaron? Adrien? Whatever his name was, it
was just possible the hilarious stories Rose had told about
his younger brother’s friend were true if this was the same
kid.

Andy shot Devon another wide eyed look when he

snorted. The younger man bit at his plush bottom lip before
turning toward the door and hurrying off. Devon shook his
head. He’d better get his ass in gear and get out to the
Christmas Village before they were inundated with
screaming toddlers and exhausted parents. Opening Rose’s
locker was pathetically easy. Devon didn’t even need the
combination, as his former soldier hadn’t even bothered to
check to make sure the lock engaged fully.

Devon huffed out an aggravated breath. He was definitely

going to kick Rose’s ass as soon as the guy could put up a
decent fight. He’d trained Corporal Rose better than this.
Staying sharp with his police skills wasn’t something Devon
had ever thought he would have to beat into the youngster.
There was clearly more wrong with him than just a nasty

case of stomach flu.

Devon pulled out the familiar red suit, glad to see it still

there. Slipping into the outfit, he found the pants a little loose
in the waist and the jacket a little tight in the shoulders. Eh,
not much he could do about the slight discomfort. Hopefully
the discomfort would help him stay awake and alert.

****

Adrien ran down the hallway to the tiny—and disgustingly

smelly—locker room for the male employees. As he rounded
the last corner he smacked right into Andy. They were
roughly the same size—small—and bounced off in opposite
directions, with Andy getting the worst of the collision.
Adrien fell on his nicely cushioned ass, but poor Andy
somehow managed to spin around and pull a full on face-
plant on the concrete floor. When he sat up, the skin of his
right cheek was split open, and blood streamed freely down
the creamy skin of his face.

“Oh shit! Andy, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, oh my god, your

pretty face… oh.” Adrien clapped a hand over his mouth.
Damn his clumsiness.

Andy reached a hand up to his face, grimacing when he

touched just below the wound. He glanced over at Adrien, a
panicked look on his face. “I’ll have to go to the hospital.
Oh, crap-doodly, Adrien, this is bad.”

Adrien jumped up, and then thought better of his plan to

rush over to help Andy. “Come on, Andy, I’ll walk you over
to security. Liam’s on duty today He’ll give you a ride to the
hospital and then go back and pick you up when you’re done.
I’m so sorry. Do we need to close the Village?”

Andy shook his head. “No, you know how everything

runs. I’m putting you in charge.” Handing over his keys and
clipboard, Andy smiled. “I didn’t pick up the cash box yet…
I can’t give that to you, so just let the parents know if they
want to either leave checks or pay by credit card we’ll mail
the pictures or they can come back next week to pick them
up… and I guess if they have cash… um, give them a “rein-
check” to come back next week, and we’ll give them a
twenty-five percent discount for their trouble. Can you
manage that?”

Adrien’s head spun. Yeah he knew how to do all the little

tasks of running the village, but Andy had always put
Michael in charge when he couldn’t be present before. “I…
you aren’t going to put Michael in charge.”

Andy shook his head, grimaced, and gripped the sides of

his head carefully. “No. That won’t work today

He swayed then, and Adrien grabbed his arm to steady

him. The security office was only a few more steps down the
hall. “Hey, Liam! Help!”

Liam came boiling out of the security office in a flash, a

thunderous expression on his lean face. He took in Andy’s

battered condition and Adrien’s disheveled appearance in a
glance. The anger melted off his face, an exasperated look
crossing in its stead. “Damn, Adrien, you usually don’t take
out casual bystanders.”

Adrien winced. “I know. I just. Shit.”

Andy patted his shoulder. “It was bound to happen at

some time. You’re like a walking bio-hazard-natural-
disaster and I’m a place waiting for an accident to happen.”

Adrien’s gut clenched. Oh. He hadn’t realized Andy just

expected to get hurt all the time. Admittedly, Andy did get
hurt a surprising amount—but to just expect the bad stuff was
kinda like he was inviting those things to visit him. Gnawing
on the inside of his bottom lip, Adrien glanced up at Liam.
“Li, will your boss cut you enough slack to take Andy to the
hospital?”

Liam nodded. “Yeah, he’s got a soft spot for Andy, just

like the rest of us.” He rapped on the door to the security
office. A huge bald-headed black man opened it. Liam
grinned up at him. “Hey, Scotty, I gotta take Danger Mouse
here to the hospital to get his pretty cheek stitched up. You
need me to clock out?”

Adrien wanted to hide behind Andy when the Scotty’s

gaze bored into him. The man was mountain sized, and he
had mad-crazy ninja skills. Adrien looked down at the
security chief’s hands. Geez, even the guy’s hands were huge

—the darn things were the size of small countries. Adrien
blinked, lifting his eyes to try to meet Scotty’s. “I—” His
voice squeaked and broke. He ducked his chin down, and
then forced himself to look back up. “It was an accident!”

Scotty and Liam both got identical long-suffering

expressions on their faces. Liam shook his head at the
Security Chief. “Oh, hell—never mind about this one, Scotty.
I’ll sort him out later. Adrien, you’d better get into your
costume and over to the Village… you guys were supposed
to open five minutes ago.”

Adrien squeaked again, and turned around on the spot. As

he picked up his foot to take his first step, three voices rang
out behind him. “Carefully!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Adrien nodded his head. He

could do careful.

Andy sighed loudly, and Liam gave a frustrated sounding

grunt. Scotty’s deep rumble was low enough that he probably
hadn’t intended for Adrien to hear it. “Liam, we have to do
something about that boy. He needs a damn keeper. Or a
leash.”

Oh. Ouch. That hurt worse than the fall had. Adrien

hustled very carefully to the locker room and very, very
carefully put on his new tights and go-go elf-boy shorts. Then
he very, very, very carefully went to find Santa. This had to
be the worst day ever. Maybe Michael would be able to

cheer him up.

Chapter Three

Devon looked around at the Christmas Village, warmth

spreading through his center. The set up was identical to the
last time he’d been here… but that wasn’t what made him
want to work here every single day of the holiday season.
No, what choked him up just a little was the way the damn
Village looked almost identical to the one his madre used to
take a train and two buses to bring him to every December
when he was a kid. It even smelled the same, like fake pine
and real peppermint. They’d been dirt poor back then, but his
madre—well, Rosario Soto somehow always managed to
find not only enough extra money for the double bus fare on a
non-work day, but she also managed lunch at the mall and a
cocoa at the transfer station on the way home.

The first time Devon asked Santa to bring his dad—just

for a visit—and St. Nick didn’t follow through, he’d figured
out that the jolly old guy in the snazzy red suit really didn’t
have any special powers… but his mom did. He was six. He
went along with his madre’s stories about Santa for another
seven years before he could bring himself to let on that he’d
long ago figured out that she was the one who brought magic
and light to his world. Devon made his way past the handful
of families in line, noting that most of the kids were already
half-way out of their winter gear and starting to whine as
hats bobbled in their small hands and scarves dragged on the
ground. He walked behind the raised partition that gave the
kids the illusion of a private time with Santa while allowing

their parents to stand to one side with an unobstructed view
of the whole area. He settled into his seat, and prepared to
do his part to help spread a little magic in the world… just
as soon as his helper elf showed up to get things rolling.

Twenty minutes later Devon faced an ever lengthening

line of children and parents with absolutely no idea where
either Andy or the promised “elf or elves” were. A little
sprite of a girl with curly reddish brown hair, thick black
eyelashes, summer blue eyes and chocolate on her face
started crying. Sad faces spread up and down the line. Devon
stood up, about to make up something about his helper elves
dealing with a toy emergency at the North Pole. The young,
fresh faced mother standing in line rocking her baby and
petting the infant’s fluff of blond hair at random moments had
even started to sniffle a bit as she rocked the baby against
her shoulder. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she took a
step back, bumping the man behind her. Out of the corner of
his eye, Devon caught sight of a streak of green and red
tumbling out of the hall where the locker rooms were. At
first Devon thought the exaggerated flailing was part of an
act. Then he realized the elf was actually in danger of falling
and hurting himself or worse yet, one of the kids. The little
fool had come around the corner from the locker room area
at a dead run. At that pace, in the slick little leather slippers
he had on his feet Devon would have to say the real
Christmas miracle had to be that the guy hadn’t fallen and
cracked his head open yet.

Devon was damned if something that potentially

traumatizing to all these kid was going to happen on his
watch. Not to mention what could happen to the poor, dumb
elf. The elf flailed again, but this time he overcorrected.
Everything broke down into scatter-shots of time, each
instant moving as slowly as whole minutes. Snap. The little
elf’s feet flew out in front of him. Snap. Devon launched
himself off the platform in a long dive. Snap.

Devon had a long, golden moment where he seemed to

float in the air. He could see he was going to just make it to
the man before his head hit. Mierda, when he crashed down
on the hard floor the padding for his Santa belly would
protect him from some of the impact but it was going to hurt
like hell. The possible cracked ribs could be hidden from all
the kids in line, though. Cracked ribs and bruises would heal.
If elf-boy smashed his melon on the pretty, hard as hell
marble flooring there was no telling if he would live long
enough to heal.

****

By the time Adrien figured out he didn’t have everything

under control—and that he couldn’t even pull off a
controlled crash without risking really hurting one of the
smaller kids in the line he’d already overbalanced. He flung
his arms out behind him, hoping to fall away from the kids.
His feet sliding out in front of him answered his wish in
seconds.

Adrien was going to end the day in one of the local

hospitals, having traumatized countless kids in the process,
because even if his brother Sam wasn’t here to catch the
footage and post it to YouTube, dollars to donuts someone
had their phone out and was already taping his latest bit of
clumsiness.

He had an awful vision of mean bully older kids with hard

faces showing the clip to horrified five, six and seven year
olds for years to come. A whole generation of kids would
forever think of Christmas as “the season when clumsy elves
die.”

As he slid past Santa’s throne in an ungainly skid headed

more toward the horizontal than the vertical, Michael
launched himself off the platform yelling at the top of his fool
lungs. “Noooooooo!”

Remembering the horde of pint-sized shoppers watching

in horror, Adrien kept his composure enough to bite back the
utterance fighting to get out of his throat, which was a hearty
“OH SHIT!” He didn’t even cry out Michael’s name. He
wanted to do anything necessary in a desperate attempt to get
the big goof-ball to use some of those finely tuned military
police skills he loved bragging about. They would come in
uber-handy for saving Adrien’s ass right about now.

Michael hit the floor with a sickening thud. Adrien

winced, both in anticipation of his own eminent thud, and at
Michael’s having hurt himself to no good effect. The big

idiot belly flopping on the floor couldn’t possibly save
Adrien.

Except, somehow, it did.

Adrien had forgotten to take into account how the slick

velvet of the Santa suit would keep Michael sliding forward.
Just before Adrien hit the floor, Michael was there. He’d
turned half on his side, and managed to catch Adrien’s head
in the palm of one broad hand.

Adrien realized several pertinent facts simultaneously.

The man in the shiny red Santa suit, the same one who had
saved him from what could easily have been a serious head
injury, was not Michael. His fluffy white beard was twisted
half off his face, showing a stubble-covered jaw that looked
positively edible. A tsunami of lust crashed down on Adrien,
and the only coherent thought he could muster for a second
had to do with wanting to spend a few weeks nibbling on the
not-Michael Santa. Reason returned with the realization that
Adrien had fallen in a weird pretzel twist that showed off his
flexibility in the most humiliating way possible.

His left ankle ended up somewhere around his right ear,

his right leg bent and twisted so that leg was under his butt.
His left arm was flung up above his head. He’d even
managed to smack himself with his right hand. Sheesh. His
only saving grace in the whole ridiculous mess was that the
undignified heap he was in fell squarely between the
counterfeit Santa and the kids.

The breadth of his shoulders, while not god-like, was

enough to hide Santa’s dishabille for a critical few seconds.
Thinking quickly, he decided to camp things up so the adult
guests of Christmas Village could be left with a scrap of
plausible deniability when their young charges started
questioning Santa’s very un-Santa like behavior.

“Oh, Santa, I didn’t see the ice! That must be why you’re

always telling all the elves to walk carefully.” Adrien used
every bit of his high school theater training to project his
voice as he wiggled closer to the strange Santa facing him.
As soon as the crowd behind them broke out in exclamations,
he leaned forward. Whispering quickly, in barely audible
tones, Adrien broke the bad news. “Santa, your beard is
broken. Pretend you’ve got to take me to Mrs. Claus for a
quick bit of mothering, and then carry me out of here so we
can hide your face.”

Santa’s big brown eyes widened and then narrowed

intently. His voice came out in an equally hushed baritone.
“Mierda! I don’t care how cute you are… I am not picking
you up, Papi.”

The man’s voice poured into Adrien’s ears hotly, an aural

aphrodisiac. He closed his eyes for a split second. Between
falling three times in less than two hours and the effect
Counterfeit Claus was having on his libido, he really might
need to be carried. Adrien sucked in a deep breath. “Crap-
Doodly.”

A warm hand cupped his cheek. His eyes flew back open,

meeting a piercing brown gaze. Adrien hurried to explain the
important parts of the situation to the slow-coach in front of
him. “We have to get you out of here—Santa—at least long
enough to fix your beard. If you don’t wanna pick me up so I
can shield your face, just pretend you hit your head or
something. You should be able to pull that off.”

Adrien untangled his limbs. As he lowered his left leg,

managing to keep his body between Santa and the crowd, the
big man on the floor with him watched him intently. Adrien
ignored the man’s increasingly heated looks, turning to the
crowd instead. “Folks, I’m afraid Santa bumped his head
saving me. We just have to go get a good cup of cocoa from
Mrs. Claus and some of her delicious cookies to fix us right
up. We’ll be back in half an hour if you want to wait.”

Santa sat up next to him, one hand pressed to his temple to

hold the edge of his beard in place. With a suppressed grunt
he was on his feet. He bent down, wrapped one huge paw
around Adrien’s slim arm and hauled Adrien upright with an
ease that made Adrien’s heart beat faster. A delicious smell
permeated the air around him… oh. Oh dear Lord, the damn
man was wearing Drakkar Noir. The scent of Drakkar
invariably made Adrien want to strip out of whatever he was
wearing and offer his ass up to the nearest likely candidate.

Not that he was a slut. Really. The response was

conditioned by his first lover. Adrien shivered. The man had
been a complete prick outside of the bedroom, but holy shit-

balls, he had a skill bordering on miraculous between the
sheets. Adrien sucked in a deep breath and forced his
wandering thoughts back to the present.

Tipping his head back, he looked up and up again into

smoldering brown eyes. Holy guacamole, his whole body
was going to burn to cinders in the wake of this man’s heated
looks. Santa manhandled him around, turning him towards
the locker room. Adrien went willingly when a broad hand
pressed between his shoulders. He’d forgotten about the kids
and Christmas Village the second the big man put his hands
on him. The skin of Adrien’s upper arms tingled where the
man’s rough palms rested, guiding Adrien along in front of
him. The strange Santa walked close, heat from his big body
radiating across the space between them. They turned the
corner away from where the families could see them. Santa’s
hands fell away from Adrien’s arms.

Adrien bit back a moan. Nibbling at one corner of his lip,

he looked over his shoulder. The man had stepped back, and
now stood slightly more than an arm’s length away, his eyes
locked on Adrien’s elf-a-go-go clad ass. He looked up all at
once, his whole posture changing, becoming more intent. The
effect was startling. Adrien met his hot, dark eyes. A shiver
swept him from head to feet. Santa’s sinfully bitable lips
curved into a wicked smile. Stepping forward, he reached
past Adrien to push open the locker room door. Adrien
licked his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth afterward.
The counterfeit Santa stepped forward, leaning down to

whisper in Adrien’s ear. “We should probably go into the
locker room. I imagine some of the nosier folks are working
up their nerve to follow us around that corner.”

The hot rush of air against his ear combined with his three

falls, and Adrien’s knees gave out on him. Okay, so the
warm, moist air from that beautiful mouth could easily make
him weak kneed all by itself. Even without the added zinger
of the—oh God, Adrien’s clothes really needed to come off
—damned Drakkar. He clutched at Santa’s sleeves. “Santa,
I’m going to—”

A husky chuckle cut across his words. “You can call me

Devon. I just play Santa on TV.”

Laughter shook loose from Adrien in quick bursts that

rocked his compact frame and put enough starch back into his
knees to keep him standing. After a moment he manfully
tamped the noise down by biting him bottom lip as he looked
down. One glance up into Devon’s twinkling brown eyes
ended his attempted decorum. Giggling helplessly, Adrien
stumbled backward into the locker room. Muscles in his
neck and shoulders loosened from the knots two hours of
nearly continuous catastrophes had caused.

Santa—Devon’s smile grew wider, his slight Hispanic

accent growing stronger with every word. “You are just a
hot little mess, aren’t you? I didn’t believe Michael when he
said he knew someone who was more trouble than he could
ever dream of being, but here chu are, papi.”

Adrien’s mouth dropped open. During the big brou-ha-ha

out at the Village, the man must have hit his head. There was
no other acceptable explanation for him—

“Did you just call me a mess?”

Chapter Four

Devon took a quick inventory. He’d learned a long time

ago not to assume the feeling was mutual just because he was
hot for someone. His sweet little mess—Adrien’s— pupils
were dilated, leaving only a thin line of golden brown
around them. He was taking short, shallow breaths, and ay-
ay-ay, the hot little elf had enough wood in his tight shorts to
keep Santa’s fires stoked for quite a while. The wash of heat
flooding his body cranked up in intensity. He put his hands
on the compact form in front of him just to feel those finely
sculpted muscles flex under his fingers.

What had Adrien asked him? Oh, right… Adrien asked if

he’d called the pocket sized beauty a mess. Devon gave his
best lecherous grin and waggled his eyebrows at Adrien.
“No. I mean, yeah, I did call you that, but not just a mess. I
called you a hot mess.”

While he spoke, Devon slid the hands he’d wrapped

around Adrien’s upper arms along the soft skin of the man’s
biceps. Mierda, he wanted a bite of that caramel colored
flesh. Curling his fingers around the back where Adrien’s
triceps flexed and bunched under the hem of his short
sleeved tee shirt he picked the smaller man up. Two steps
put them at the end of the row of lockers. He turned and
pressed Adrien’s back against the smooth metal side of the
row. Adrien squeaked, his eyes enormous above his high
cheeks bones. Devon spread his legs, bent slightly at the

knees and pressed his chest hard against Adrien’s. Another
jolt of heat flashed through him. Devon growled, and then
fought to control his breathing. He refused to allow himself
act like an animal. He would give the sexy little man a
choice about what happened next.

He leaned down to breathe his words directly into

Adrien’s ear. “I’m going to kiss you, hard and deep enough
you’re still going to feel it tomorrow. After I’m done kissing
you, you’re gonna help me fix this damn beard, and we’re
going to go back out to the Village and make those kids
believe we just spent a half an hour getting patched up by
Mrs. Claus. And at the end of the day, I’m either going to
walk you to your car, or I’m going to walk you to mine. If
you come to my car, I’m going to put you in my Jeep, drive
you to my place on Walnut Street, call off my other job and
screw you until the only name you remember is mine because
you’re so busy screaming it. If I walk you to your car, I’ll
wait until you get it started and drive away. And that will be
that. No—don’t speak now. After I kiss you, if you don’t
want to come with me tonight, say mistletoe. Got it?”

Adrien’s head nodded, brushing his cheek against the line

of Devon’s jaw. The silk of his brown and gold mop of hair
brushed Devon’s temple. His stomach flexed where it
pressed against Devon’s, and his legs—ay-ay—parted to
wrap around Devon’s waist. He tilted his head back against
the cool metal behind him and closed his eyes in a classic
waiting-for-a-kiss pose. His long, dark lashes cast faint

shadows on his cheeks, and the trusting pose sparked a
feeling of possessiveness in Devon. He pulled Adrien
forward enough to slip his arms behind the other man’s back.
Crushing Adrien’s lithe form against his chest, he sealed his
mouth over the sassy little elf’s lips.

****

Adrien’s chest stung where his cat had scratched him, his

bottom was bruised from the earlier debacle with Andy, and
his side throbbed something fierce from his most recent fall.
Devon had one hand on his jaw though, massaging gently as
the sexy man licked across the seam of Adrien’s lips. The
cool metal at his back had warmed, and Devon’s other hand
held a goodly portion of his left ass cheek.

Right in this moment, every single bite of pain just amped

his arousal higher. Adrien moaned, opening his mouth for
plundering. Devon made an indescribable noise—half
chuckle, half moan and half growl. There were too many
halves, and that made perfect sense, because the one thing
Adrien was sure of was that this was entirely too much man
for him. He wrapped his arms tightly around Devon’s neck.
There really ought to be a way to crawl right into the man’s
skin with him.

Devon lifted his head, lapping at Adrien’s lips in a barely

there tease. Adrien growled, chasing the other man’s mouth.
Devon pulled farther back, moving the hand on Adrien’s jaw
around until he was tracing the damp line of Adrien’s lips

with one finger. Adrien closed his mouth. He shot Devon a
petulant look. Devon chuckled and pressed down on
Adrien’s lower lip. Electricity arced through Adrien,
bowing his back up and forcing a tiny whine out of his throat.
He caught Devon’s finger in his mouth. A warm, slightly
salty taste burst across his taste buds. He wanted more.
Nownownownownow. He bit down lightly, liking the way
Devon’s finger felt in his mouth. He licked around the base,
right over the webbing between one finger and the next and
then sucked Devon’s longer middle finger into the hot depths
of his mouth. He bit down again, a touch harder.

Devon growled down at him, nostrils flaring as he fought

to keep his breathing steady. His eyes, hot and dark, were
almost wet looking as he snarled out the most possessive
thing Adrien had ever heard and liked. “You are going to be
mine.”

The words washed warmly over Adrien. He wanted that.

He wanted to be naked in this man’s bed, with those big
hands holding him down and pushing him high enough to burn
like the center of the sun.

Damn it. The Anthropology exam was tomorrow. His

timing always sucked. He released the big man’s finger
reluctantly. “I sure hope so, but does it have to be tonight?
Tonight doesn’t work for me at all. I have an exam tomorrow
morning and I still have to study for it.”

He unlocked his ankles from where he’d hooked them

together at the small of Devon’s back. Letting go of Devon
felt wrong, and Adrien hurried to push words between them.
“We’d better get your beard fixed. Our half-hour’s nearly
over.”

Adrien pushed against Devon’s chest, his legs slipping

down a fraction—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Devon’s hands

grasped Adrien’s thighs, and he leaned in, pinning Adrien in
place, a low moan slipping from him as his hips surged
against Adrien.

“I—we have to get back to the village.” Adrien stared at

Devon’s jaw as the words slipped breathlessly from his
mouth. The muscles and—oh god—the tendons there flexed.
Adrien’s mouth watered for a tiny nibble of the lightly tanned
skin.

Silence slipped a thin, cold wall between them. Devon’s

body held Adrien pinned against the locker as his hands
loosened, sliding up the outsides of Adrien’s thighs. Devon’s
hands laid a trial of fire all along Adrien’s sides as they
traced a simmering trail of awareness up from hip to chest.
He stopped there a moment. Adrien held his breath. Devon
peeled his hands away long enough to grip Adrien’s upper
arms again. He eased Adrien down until he stood on the
floor, his own shaking legs all that held him up. Then Devon
stepped back until there was half an arm’s length between
them. Something dark and hurtful flitted across his face. He

stepped farther back, the look solidifying into a lip curl and
eyes narrowed to slits. “If you didn’t want me to touch you
like that all you had to do was say so. Fuck, I gave you
time.”

Shaking his head in denial, Adrien swallowed hard and

tried again. “I’m not like this. I don’t wanna be the guy you
fucked in the locker room at the mall, Devon. You’re hot,
you’re wearing Drakkar—which is like, my favorite scent to
jack-off to ever since Michael accidentally left a shirt some
friend of his wore and left at Michael’s and then Michael left
it at my house but that doesn’t matter now—and Oh. My.
God. You just went all super-hero-action-figure on me and
saved me from getting hurt, or worse yet squishing one of
those tiny minions of Doom out there into kid-jelly all over
the floor of the mall. Don’t be stupid. Of course I want you. I
just—I really do have an exam, and we have to get back to
the Village. You’re filling in for Michael, okay. I need this
job. This isn’t a fill in gig for me. I can’t afford to lose my
rent money over one fuck from a hot guy.”

His stomach burned. Devon stopped backing away, his

angry look softening. He nodded, one corner of his mouth
lifting in a wry curl. “Okay. I shouldn’t call off tonight
anyway—we’re short staffed right now with all the student
workers who went home for the holidays already.”

Everything in Adrien loosened. He ignored the feeling,

tilting his head to the side like it would somehow give him a
better perspective on what was happening. He used words in

his best smoke and mirror style to deflect the vaguely
questioning look in Devon’s eyes. “Give me a sec to get the
spirit gum I keep in my locker… Michael lost his beard
entirely one day, when a little girl decided to pull on it. It
happened right at the end of our shift, and there weren’t that
many kids around, but still… it was just awful. After that we
both thought it would be better if we glued it down every
day.”

Devon cocked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t say a word,

just looked at Adrien straight on and waited.

Adrien flung his hands in the air, sidling around Devon to

get to his locker. “What? I was well aware that I was gay in
high school. The theater department was like a second
home.”

If Devon’s dammed eyebrow climbed any farther up his

forehead the freaking thing would be in danger of falling off
the back of his head. Adrien bristled. “Oh, whatever—I
could give two shits if the stereotypical nature of my being a
gay boy who liked theater offends your manly sensibilities,
Mr. Action-Hero.”

Devon choked, and then threw back his head to laugh, his

teeth gleaming whitely against his honey colored skin.
Watching the way the man laughed made Adrien’s heart hurt
a little. The openness of his face and the strong line of his
throat reached right in through the walls of Adrien’s chest,
grabbed his heart and squeezed. Adrien’s breath caught in

his throat. For just a second, he forgot everything but Devon
again while his unruly cock screamed out a litany of gimme-
gimme-gotta-gotta-have-it-bay-beeeee. Adrien shuddered,
and Devon caught the reaction as he finished laughing and
lowered his chin to look back at Adrien.

Devon just watched him silently for a handful of

heartbeats. Adrien thought he wouldn’t be able to stop
himself from grabbing Devon’s face between his hands so he
could hold the big man still while he kissed him again.
Adrien’s mouth watered at the thought of licking the little
divot on Devon’s chin. Right then, in the second before he
moved, Devon walked over, tapped Adrien on the nose, and
sat down on the bench between Adrien and the lockers. “Do
your stuff, Mr. Theater. We really do need to get back out
there asap. We can still make it so their parents have a shot
at keeping this a good trip to see Santa for most of these
kids… I wouldn’t want them to have bad memories about
Christmas because of me.”

Devon’s voice dropped a little at the end of his little

speech, and Adrien knew. Somebody somewhere had fucked
up Santa for this guy, and for whatever reason the hurt had
been big enough, or important enough to linger well into his
adulthood. Adrien let his eyes wander a meandering path
from the tousled top of Devon’s head to the tips of his shiny
black boots. The urge to peel the man out of his shiny red suit
and lick all the points in between those boots and then along
his chiseled jaw to his dimpled chin left Adrien flushed with

a wild mix of anger, sorrow and yearning. Maybe there was
a way to make whatever it was up to Devon? Adrien kept his
questions about who’d messed Santa up for Devon on hold
for the moment. This was not the time, nor the place.
Hopefully he’d get another chance to ask them.

Chapter Five

Devon sat still, letting Adrien apply the spirit gum to his

face, and press the beard down. Adrien stood between his
spread thighs, his lean hands moving delicately over
Devon’s face. With the younger man intent on his task,
Devon took advantage of the opportunity to observe him
closely. Adrien’s lashes were tipped with gold, and he had
the faintest smattering of freckles across his nose. Devon’s
stomach lurched as he realized that in another few hours he’d
be parting company with Adrien. He might never get a
chance to really map those freckles, not unless Adrien gave
him permission. Adrien was the Hottie McHotpants he’d
been obsessing over since the first time he saw him. Hell, if
he was honest with himself, he’d been intrigued ever since
the first story Rose had told about Adrien. He had to get
Adrien to commit to going out on a date with him. His breath
hitched as Adrien leaned closer. Then the brush of Adrien’s
firm thigh against the sensitive spot on the side of his knee
shot a flash of heat through him.

Devon blurted out the first reasonable word he could

dredge from a brain rapidly losing blood to points south.
“When?”

Adrien’s head jerked back. As he met Devon’s gaze, his

brows lifted. “When what?”

Devon groaned. Oh, suave. He’d only blurted out the one

word. Way to sound like a freak of nature. “When can I see
you again?”

A little smile tipped the corner of Adrien’s firm little

mouth up. “You’re seeing me now, Devon. We’re in the
middle of a shift. You’re going to be seeing me for several
more hours.”

Devon lifted his hands up, resting them lightly on Adrien’s

sides and giving him a little shake. “Don’t be deliberately
obtuse, Adrien. When can I take you out? You know, on a
date?”

Adrien’s mouth made a sweet little “O”, all pink and

luscious looking. Devon met his eyes, tightening his fingers
fractionally on Adrien’s sides before he continued. “I wanna
take you out. You can ask Rose—Michael, about me. He’ll
vouch for me. I was his squad leader, you know? The man
lived practically in my pocket for two years. You ask him
anything you want to know. I’ll tell him it’s okay to tell you
the answer to anything you wanna know.”

Adrien’s lashes dipped down as he listened. He drew in a

fast breath, peeping out from underneath those thick lashes.
“I know about you. Michael used to write me letters. He said
you were an okay guy, and if I ever got around to wanting to
settle down I should steer clear of you, but if I just wanted to
play, you were the go-to guy.”

A jolt of something lava hot and sharper than the edge of

his bayonet cut into the center of Devon’s chest. “Rose said
that?”

Adrien opened his eyes wide. “Yeah, and I’m not looking

to settle down—but I wouldn’t mind playing with you for a
bit… just not in a locker room at work, you know, and not
tonight. I have that exam tomorrow.”

A thin wire of hurt cut into Devon’s throat like a skillfully

applied garrote, choking the words he’d been meaning to say
to Adrien. He closed his eyes. “Okay. Maybe give me your
number before we leave tonight, and I’ll call you sometime.”

Those weren’t the impulsive, baby-be-mine words that

had been scratching to get out of his throat just minutes
before. And maybe that was for the best.

****

As they walked back towards Christmas Village, Adrien

gnawed on his lower lip. Normally, nothing was less like
him than telling a whopper like the one he’d just laid on
Devon… but he’d heard Andy’s side of things, and well…
he didn’t want to be just another notch on Santa Devon’s
wide black belt. As they passed Annie’s Cookies, his
favorite counter-girl, LaTrece, came hurrying over with two
mugs filled to the brim and topped with small mounds of
whipped cream. The scent of baking cookies and chocolate
wafted with her. She smiled and lifted an eyebrow as she
reached them. “Here, take these. Hah. I guess this makes me

Mrs. Claus, huh?”

Devon snorted with laughter. Adrien looked between the

two of them, his forehead crinkling up for a moment. “Oh,
right. We were gonna get coco from Mrs. Claus to fix us up.
Good save, Trece.”

Handing off the drinks, LaTrece flipped a hand at Adrien.

The bright white of her smile grew wider in the rich brown
of her flawless skin as she spoke. Within seconds the
expression lit her whole face. “Baby, you the only one I let
get away with dropping the La from the front of my name.
You are just so damn cute, I can’t stay mad at you. Get back
over to your village before those parents make another run
on my coco and cookies. Some of us actually want to get out
of here on time tonight!”

Adrien reached to hand Devon his drink, and as Devon

took the cup, their fingers brushed. A spark of electricity
jumped between their hands. Adrien gasped, his gaze flying
up to meet Devon’s. The big man’s eyes were dark pools of
pained longing. Adrien threw caution to the wind, baring his
heart right there in the echoing cavern of the food court. “I
didn’t mean it. I do have an exam tonight, but I lied about the
other thing. I—Michael used to write me about you and he
did say I should be careful but he also said he thought when
you were ready to settle down that I should—that he thought I
was maybe the guy who could get you to. Settle down. But
not settle, because he said he thought maybe you’d be—”

The seconds between when Devon placed his fingers

against Adrien’s mouth and when he started to speak were
the longest in Adrien’s whole life. “If we weren’t standing in
full sight of at least twenty-five to forty little kids and their
parents, I’d kiss you until your knees gave out again. In a
moment, I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth, and
you’re gonna say—yes, Devon—and you’re gonna be saying
yes to these things: me coming to your house tonight. I’ll
make dinner, and you’ll study, and then when you’re done
I’ll put away whatever I’m doing and we’ll go to bed. I’m
not going to have sex with you tonight, because if we get
started, you won’t get any sleep, and then you’ll flunk your
exam. So you’ll sleep under the blankets and I’ll sleep on
top, but I’ll still have you in my arms all night. Then,
tomorrow, after your exam is over and I get home from my
regular job, we’ll spend a little time talking. You’re gonna
have the night off because you’re gonna call Andy first thing
in the morning, and I’m not covering another night for Rose.
He never stays sick longer than a day anyway. And after we
talk, I’m gonna take you to bed, but not to sleep. After that
we’ll see where this thing is going.”

He lifted his fingers, and Adrien grinned up at him. Devon

stared down at him, and the whole mall seemed to fall away,
all the noises of restless children and muzak versions of at
least three different Christmas carols fading into the back
ground. Adrien lifted his to-go cup of hot coco to his face,
breathed in the warm rich chocolate and cinnamon smell of
the drink and with a heart as light as the fragrant steam rising

from his drink spoke the only two words possible. “Yes,
Devon.”

The End