This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
100 Days to Christmas
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright

Ó

2012 by Delilah Storm

Cover illustration by BSClay
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-404-4

www.torquerepress.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions
thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For
information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: December 2012

100 Days to Christmas

By Delilah Storm

Chapter 1

"I'm looking forward to finally meeting you in person." Jackson's voice came

somewhat tinny through the microphone built into the laptop. It wasn't the best of
laptops, and that's why the voice sounded off sometimes, but it served its purpose.

"I'm looking forward to it too." Steve knew he was smiling like a loon, but he

couldn't stop. Christmas couldn't come soon enough for Steve.

"I'm just sorry I can't get off work any earlier."
"No worries. Christmas is freaky busy in the bakery, so it's not like we could do

much visiting anyways. It'll just be nice to finally meet in person. Not that I don't
like Skypeing." Steve added hastily, his finger traversing nervously over his desk as
he looked down.

"Hey." Jackson's voice made Steve glance up. That voice, even though Steve had

only heard it through the speaker on his laptop, had a power over him that no one
else had ever had before. It scared Steve and thrilled him at the same time.

"I like talking to you like this too, but it's just not the same as being able to touch

the other person and look them directly in the eye when we're talking."

"Yeah." Steve gave a relieved sigh. He should have known Jackson would

understand. For being such different people, they had a lot in common.

The two chatted for a while longer before Steve's yawning made Jackson laugh

his deep, husky laugh.

"Go to bed, Steve." Jackson chuckled. "I'll talk to you next week." Steve's

stomach clenched at the look in Jackson's eye as the man said this. Maybe it was
wishful thinking, but Steve was certain he saw Jackson's eyes narrow slightly as he
spoke. The big, beautiful brown eyes he'd been looking at for nearly a year took on
an almost predatory air as they looked at Steve. Before Steve could be certain, the
look vanished and Steve's musings were ruined by yet another jaw-cracking yawn.

"Yeah, you're right." Steve couldn't help but smile. "I'm beat. Waking up at four

o’clock every morning is hard. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Ha!" Jackson harrumphed. "You're not even thirty-three yet. You've got a long

way to go before you're old and decrepit."

"Some mornings I feel old and I certainly look decrepit." Steve laughed.
Jackson chuckled again. "I'm looking forward to finding that out for myself. I'll

see you next week. Sleep well."

"You too." Steve ignored the blush that permeated his fair skin and he signed off

the laptop quickly. The curse of pale skin was that everyone could tell when he was
embarrassed.

Steve rose and gave a languid, cat-like stretch that went from the arches of his

feet all the way to the tips of the fingers stretching out over his head. Steve yawned
again, heading for the shower before bed.

He turned the water on in his small shower and stripped quickly, throwing his

clothes into the laundry hamper. At least this time he'd been able to change his shirt
before his scheduled rendezvous with Jackson. Last time he'd barely managed to
make it in the door before the chime had sounded, telling him Jackson was online.
Poor Jackson had been forced to stare at a flour- and dough-encrusted Steve
through their whole conversation. Not that Jackson had seemed to mind. For a
hotshot lawyer, Jackson was surprising laid-back.

Steve stepped into the semi-hot water and grabbed the body soap. As always after

their Skypes, Steve was half-hard from the sound of Jackson's voice alone. For a
man he'd never met in person and certainly never touched, Jackson had an effect on
Steve's body like no man he’d ever met. Steve looked forward to their chats every
week and he'd never been disappointed. More often than not, they didn't discuss
anything important, but those conversations with Jackson were the highlight of
Steve's lonely existence.

Steve had met Jackson through an online game almost two years ago. They'd

chatted a bit while in the system and seemed to hit it off pretty well. It was Jackson
who had first suggested Skypeing to a shy Steve. On his own, Steve would never
have had the guts to suggest such a thing, and was very nervous during their first
call. Steve kept dropping things and hitting buttons he shouldn't have. It was a
wonder he hadn't electrocuted himself the way he kept dropping his drink on the
keyboard.

In fact, Steve was little more than a stammering disaster on legs, but Jackson was

patient and kind and more handsome than Steve could have wished. Even though
Steve couldn't seem to stitch together an intelligent phrase during the whole
conversation, Jackson had suggested Skypeing again the following week, and it had
soon become a regular Sunday evening fixture in Steve's life. It had quickly
become the thing Steve looked forward to most in his week, and any time they had
to cancel, Steve was inconsolable for days -- according to his employees at least.

Steve owned his own bakery, which had been handed down from father to son

for three generations. His parents were currently basking in the glorious Florida sun
and Steve had been running the store for nearly seven years now. He'd made some
improvements and changes, but the family atmosphere was still there. Usually Steve
went down for a few days after the holiday season rush to visit them, but not this
year. This year he’d begged out, claiming work, but he was sure his mother guessed
the truth. Steve was finally going to meet Jackson, the man he'd been fantasizing
about for over a year now.

Jackson was a lawyer, working at a large law firm in busy New York City. The

cases he mentioned and the stories he told about some of the antics in court had

Steve wondering how two such different people could actually get along so well,
but get along they did. Steve couldn't imagine what prompted Jackson to continue
to call him every week, but Steve was thankful for it. Looking at those fine features
and talking about nothing and everything made Steve even more thankful for
Jackson's continued persistence.

As always, when visions of Jackson's warm eyes filled Steve's head, his cock

went from half hard to fully interested almost too quickly for Steve to maintain his
balance. With all that blood rushing to his cock every Sunday, it was a wonder
Steve hadn't had any accidents in the shower yet. He leaned on the cold shower
tiles, stroking his soap-covered hand over his rock-hard shaft.

Steve cupped and pulled his balls slightly, wringing a moan from his lips. A little

pain always made the pleasure all the sweeter to enjoy. It took mere moments
before Steve could feel the familiar tingling in his balls and coursing through his
cock. His thumb pressed into the slit on the tip of his penis, his hand stroked
quicker from root to tip and back again. Steve stood upright, his other hand moving
to pinch his nipple, tweaking it hard as he imagined how good Jackson's hands
would feel on his body.

He imagined Jackson standing behind him, thrusting deeper into Steve's backside

as the man's hands pulled the pleasure from his cock. He imagined Jackson's voice
whispering sweet, sexy words into his ear and that tantalizing mouth nibbling at his
neck, sucking up a mark for everyone to see. His hands stroked faster as he
imagined all the fucking, sucking, and playing they would do when they came
together. His cock grew impossibly hard and his fingers pinched his nipple one last
time.

"Jackson," Steve moaned as he shot out in short, hard bursts. He gasped, leaning

again on the tiles as he watched his seed dripping down the shower wall until it was
washed away in the swirl of water.

It took Steve a few minutes to gather himself. It was always so fast and fantastic

right after their chat, with the sight of Jackson and the sound of that deep, drawling
voice still so fresh in Steve's mind. He finished washing off quickly and stepped out
of the cold shower.

For the amount of his rent, you'd think the landlord could at least replace the hot

water tank so Steve could get a decent shower that lasted more than seven minutes.
But Steve wasn't big on making waves and let the thought slide away. He toweled
off quickly, tossing the wet towel into the hamper, and padded, naked, across the
hallway to his bedroom.

Catching sight of himself out of the corner of his eye, Steve stopped dead in his

tracks and looked at himself critically in the full-length mirror attached to the
bedroom's closet door.

"Shit." He grimaced, poking his belly in disbelief.

Steve stepped closer to the mirror, squinting at the figure he saw before him. He

was fat. Maybe not obese or anything, but there was a definite pouch on his
stomach. Steve turned sideways, continuing to stare. He reached behind him and
slapped his ass hard, watching it jiggle. His butt was huge. He bent forward slightly,
glaring critically. His butt really was huge. Why had no one ever told him he had
such a huge ass? A man had no business having such a huge bubble butt.

Turning this way and that, Steve gave a dramatic sigh. There was no way around

it. He'd have to go on a diet. He knelt down, digging out the scale from where he'd
shoved it under his dresser in disgust the last time he'd used it. Steve dusted it off
before placing it in front of the mirror and held his breath as he stepped on.

"Jesus Christ!" Steve muttered emphatically. One hundred and ninety-five

pounds.

One-freaking-hundred-and-freaking-ninety-freaking-five.

This

was

horrible. He'd need to lose at least forty pounds before he could let Jackson see
him. Thank God Jackson could only see his head and shoulders when they Skyped.
He'd be able to make that good first impression and not scare the man of his epic
fantasies away.

Steve pulled on his sleep shorts and threw himself facedown on to his bed,

moaning. He hated diets. It was hard to diet when he baked pastries and cakes and
sweets for a living.

He rolled over, grabbed a small book from the bedside table, and flipped it open,

angry yet determined. He quickly counted the days on the calendar and wrote
furiously in his journal.

Sunday, September 16
99 Days to the Visit, 100 Days to Christmas
I will lose 40 pounds by December 24. I will make Jackson drool with desire!
With a satisfied nod, Steve closed the journal with a snap and closed the light. He

rolled over, thinking of all the things he could do to lose weight. There was more
than three months, plenty of time. It was like three pounds a week. How hard could
it be?

Steve fell asleep thinking about exercising, and Jackson, and woke up thinking

about a new whipped cream and coffee cake recipe. This might be harder than he
thought.

Chapter 2

Friday, September 21
94 days to Visit, 95 days to Christmas
Finally perfected the coffee and cream cake recipe. Took a few days and more

trials than it should have, but the guys in the bakery seemed to enjoy doing the
tastetesting. But I could never get a proper answer from them, all they ever said
was that it was good, so I had to sample the testers myself. So much for my diet
this week. Started exercising on Tuesday and man am I sore. I took a few days off
exercising to recover, I could hardly lift the 50 pound bag of flour on Wednesday
and Geoff laughed at me and had to help. Jessica just looked at me like I was
crazy. But I need to get back into exercising again. It's important. I've got to lose
this bubble butt!

Thursday, October 4
81 days to Visit, 82 days to Christmas
Got another two Halloween parties to bake for. I love Halloween. I love making

really gross cakes and watching people's faces light up in horrified fascination as
they look at them. No other time of the year can I make a cake with a zombie leg
dripping blood and chained to the wall and have people delighted with it. But
making the orange cannoli cream isn't going well. For some reason the acid in the
orange juice is making the cream separate after a while. I'm going to have to
switch to orange zest and orange oil instead of pureeing actual oranges. But of
course I couldn't toss the test runs. Geoff invited me to a poker game, and we took
the cannoli and ate them with a few beers. Man, this diet thing is just not working.
I've lost maybe six pounds all together! Focus! I've got to make Jackson drool so
hard he slips and falls into my bed!!!

Tuesday, October 9
76 days to Visit, 77 days to Christmas
Got myself a personal trainer at the gym around the corner. His name is Jim.

Jim at the gym, how funny is that? I'm supposed to see him once a week, but I
don't know. What a hard-ass he is, and I don't mean in the good way. Stupid jerk
wanted me to do sit-ups and pull-ups and push-ups and god only knows what
other kind of ups. Told him if I could do those, I wouldn't need him. He didn't like
that and told me to jump rope. Let's just say that he'll never ask me to do that
again. And I'm sure the treadmill machine I hit when I tripped on the rope isn't
irreparably damaged, no matter what Jim says.

When I booked the appointment, they told me to keep a food diary of everything

I ate for a week. So I brought that in with me. I did exactly what they told me, but
Jim took one look at all the pages and his eyes bugged out of his head. He looked
like one of those goldfish with the big eyes and puffy cheeks. His mouth kept

opening and closing but nothing came out. He kept turning page after page and
looking up at me like I was crazy or something and then back down at the pages.
He asked me if it was a joke and I told him, most emphatically, that was most
certainly not a joke. They wanted me to write down everything, so I did. What
more do they want? Then the stupid man had the nerve to ask me how any one
man could possible eat so much. When I told him I was a pastry chef at Sweet
Cheeks he just shook his head and sighed the deepest sigh I've ever heard. I really
don't know what his problem is.

Tuesday, October 16
69 days to Visit, 70 days to Christmas
Brought Jim some brownies today. I made them with lots of peanut butter and

caramel. He was too busy stuffing his face and looking for his water bottle to yell
at me too much today. Poor guy. Told him I'd bring him something that wasn't so
sticky next time. He just smiled and nodded. He couldn't talk much as his teeth
were kind of stuck together. Pity that, I'm sure. But he managed to eat the whole
plate. He even shared a couple with me. Maybe he's not so bad.

Monday, October 22
63 days to Visit, 64 days to Christmas
Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed. Talked to Jackson for over two hours

last night. He thought I was mean when I told him about Jim's brownie dilemma. I
don't know what he's talking about. I feel like a teenage girl when I say he's so
awesome, but he really is. Love to look at him. Love to talk to him. Love to listen
to him. But he turned me on so bad, I was playing with myself all night and
couldn't focus at all this morning. Dropped two cakes. Not badly and not on the
floor or anything, but they were too messed up to sell. Geoff suggested taking
them to the homeless shelter's kitchen. I know they're always looking for
donations. It was such a great idea, I felt bad for not thinking of them before. But
then I thought, that was a terrible thing to do, give them something that was
below par like that. So I baked them an extra 5 cakes and took those to the shelter
instead. Trish, the lady who runs the kitchen at the shelter, was really happy to get
the cakes. Apparently, they hardly ever get any treats or pastries. I promised I'd
bring her items more often and she was so happy she nearly cried. Almost made
me want to cry too. Geoff wouldn't take the damaged cakes home, said he wife
threatened him with no sex if he brought home any more goodies. Silly woman
thinks she's getting fat. Jessica would only take one. So I had to bring the other
one home. Guess I'll have it for breakfast, and lunch, and dinner for a few days.
Stupid diet.

Thursday, November 1
53 days to Visit, 54 days to Christmas
Barely survived Halloween. We had so many extra cakes and cookies and

squares and sweet tables to make up, I thought I was going to burst. Had to pull
two all-nighters in a row, but it was worth it. Everything turned out fabulous and
tasted great. This was probably the best Halloween we ever had. I had lots of
people complement us and a lot of the companies promised to book us for their
future events.

Jim called. He was mad that I missed Tuesday. Told him I had to work. But I

brought him a plate of cookies to the gym and he seemed to forgive me. The way
he grabbed them, I'm not sure the obviously starving guy is going to share them
or not. Hope so, there were about three dozen cookies there. Don't want the poor
guy to get sick or anything.

Sunday, November 4
50 days to Visit, 51 days to Christmas
Jackson seems to be under the impression that I'm out to get Jim. I told him I

wasn't. I was just trying to make the guy feel better. Anyone who runs around like
that all day and doesn't have time for the sweeter things in life can't be all that
happy. I just want to make the guy happy. Jackson just laughed at me and said I'm
incorrigible. I really don't know where he gets these ideas from.

Wednesday, November 7
47 days to Visit, 48 days to Christmas
Jim is a jerk! Stupid man said that I wasn't trying hard enough to get fit. Stupid

man, I'm not trying to get fit, I'm trying to lose weight so I look sexy. Told him as
much, but he didn't seem to understand the distinction. He wanted me to try
jogging. Told him I'd never been in my life and wouldn't know how to do it
properly. Stupid man made me go out with him so he could show me how to do it.
He said I should do it every morning before I go to work or every evening when I
get home. Yeah, right!

Stupid man was yelling at me the whole time "lift your knees higher", "keep your

elbows at your side, you're going to kill someone with the way you swing those
things", "don't stop yet, we've only been running for three minutes". Whatever!
The man was yelling at me so much that when I finally turned to tell him to shut
up, I ran into a stop sign and was nearly decapitated. Jim laughed so hard I
thought he was going to puke. I'm taking this as a sign from God, no more jogging
for me! Next week I'm going to bring Jim brownies made of toffee and ex-lax. Let's
see him order me around when he's too busy running for the toilet!

Sunday, November 18
36 days to Visit, 37 days to Christmas
I know Jackson is going to laugh at me tonight. I almost don't want to tell him,

but I know he'll be amused. Saw Jim on Tuesday and brought him a plate of
homemade mini chocolate éclairs. I decided not to put a laxative in them, this
time. But lo and behold, Jim is almost human when he's eating. We spent most of

the time in the employee's lounge dipping the éclairs in the warm caramel sauce I
brought with them. A few other people came by and we all started talking about
the plans for Thanksgiving. I just know Jackson is going to make it sound like I've
got it in for the guy or something. But the good news is that I didn't have to go on
the weight lifting machine. I swear that thing has it in for me. No matter what I do,
I always get tangled up in the cords. I think Jim's going to give up with me and
that machine. Kind of like the jumping rope incident. Or the jogging.

Monday, November 19
35 days to Visit, 36 days to Christmas
I knew Jackson would blame me. Now he says I'm corrupting Jim. It's a good

thing I love the guy, 'cause he's got some way weird ideas about me. It's hardly my
fault that Jim called and asked if I could bring down some more éclairs and
caramel sauce.

Tuesday, November 20
34 days to Visit, 35 days to Christmas
Okay, Jim is officially a jerk again. He ate all my éclairs and then told me he

wanted me to start jogging every other day. Said it would be good for me and that
it would help me get fit. Jerk.

Thursday, November 22
32 days to Visit, 33 days to Christmas
Went jogging. Got chased by the neighbor's chihuahua. Stupid dog chased me

all the way down the block before I could hide in a coffee shop. Had a donut and
coffee while I waited for the yappy little critter to go away. Not anywhere near as
good as my donuts. Will never go jogging again.

Monday, December 10
14 days to Visit, 15 days to Christmas
Had a wonderful talk with Jackson last night. The man is awesome. I can't wait

for him to come down. But I can't believe I've only lost ten pounds. It's nowhere
near where I wanted to be. Think maybe I should stop the gym membership. It's
not doing me any good at all. If I wanted to sit around all day eating cookies, I
could just stay at the shop. Told this to Jackson, but he just laughed at me again.
Honestly!

Sunday, December 23
1 day to Visit, 2 days to Christmas
Spoke to Jackson for a couple of hours tonight. I'm so excited. In less than 24

hours, he's going to be right here in my apartment. I gave up on going to the gym.
With Christmas rush and all, it was too much. We had so many orders and
parties, it just wasn't possible to keep going. Jim seemed sad when I told him, but
when I said I'd keep bringing him treats as often as I could, he seemed to cheer up
quite a bit.

I've picked out all my clothes for Jackson's visit. I have several long shirts and

sweaters and Geoff has lent me some of his. This should hide my bulge and my
huge bubble butt. At least I hope so. I'm still dying to get him into bed, but as
long as the light is off, he shouldn't be able to tell how huge it is. Right?

Chapter 3

Monday, December 24
Visit day, 1 day to Christmas
Steve stood at the terminal gate, pulling on the collar of his long jacket nervously.

He'd taken hours this morning to get his hair to cooperate just so and had shaved
carefully to ensure no unsightly nicks would show on his fair skin.

He was desperate to make a good first impression and had spent the better part of

the week trying to decide what he should wear when he picked Jackson up at the
airport. After long deliberation, he'd settled on his best suit. Actually it was the only
one that fit him of the two suits that he owned, but that was neither here nor there.
The shirt was also carefully and painstakingly selected: green to highlight his
emerald eyes and add some color to the dark charcoal suit. Typically Irish, Steve
had the pale skin and thick auburn, almost red, hair that curled tightly when it was
damp and he knew that the green would flatter his features.

Despite his best efforts and the care Steve took, he'd still managed to spill coffee

on his trench coat as he drove through traffic at the airport. The stain was mostly
hidden by the dark material, but the napkin he'd used to blot it had left little white
paper pieces all over his lapel. So much for the neat and tidy first impression Steve
was trying to make.

It was crazy at the airport today. Everyone was there to pick up their loved ones,

just like Steve was.

Steve couldn't help grinning at the thought. As stupid as it was, considering this

was actually their first meeting, Steve was well and truly in love with Jackson. How
could he not be? Jackson was everything he'd always dreamed of in a partner. The
only drawback was that Jackson lived a thousand miles away. As much as he
would love to be closer to Jackson, he couldn't move, could he? San Diego was
where his great-grandparents had opened up the shop that had been in the family
for three generations and he loved it dearly. But maybe he could love Jackson
more?

"Steve!" Steve started at the shout drawing him out of his musings. He looked up

and there was Jackson, waving enthusiastically at him.

Steve could feel his grin growing to fantastic proportions as he pushed through

the crowd to the man still waving at him. Steve stopped dead, unable to continue as
he finally came face-to-face with the man he'd been talking to every week for over
a year.

"Hi," Steve whispered, hardly able to speak through the excitement crushing his

chest.

"Hi, yourself." Jackson gave a wicked grin.
Steve moved forward, ready to devour Jackson in a kiss so carnal, the man's toes

would curl, but Jackson moved at the same time, pulling Steve into a momentous
hug. Steve was so surprised, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to kiss Jackson,
desperately, but the man was holding him so tight, Steve couldn't move.

"You feel so good," Jackson murmured against Steve's ear. Steve sighed, his

body relaxing and melting against Jackson's solid strength and heat. God, the man
was tall. So much taller than Steve had imagined, that he fit perfectly tucked under
Jackson's chin and against the larger body. The man seemed to bend to mold
himself around Steve and Steve relished the feeling.

Finally. Jackson was finally here, touching Steve. It was a dream come true and

all other thoughts fled from Steve's mind as the two men clung to each other right
there in the press of bodies surrounding them.

"Hmm, much as I'd love to stand here all day holding you, I think we'd better get

going before we get run over by this mob." Jackson chuckled.

The feel of Jackson's breath as that deep, husky laugh caressed his skin sent

shivers through Steve's body and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

All too soon Jackson pulled away.
"What?" Steve said, after a moment. He had been enjoying Jackson’s touch too

much and the sudden loss of that warm body was more of a disappointment than it
should have been.

Jackson laughed again. "Come on, Steve, let's get out of here."
Jackson stepped to the side to grab the bag he’d dropped, but draped an arm

protectively around Steve's shoulders as he steered Steve through the airport to the
exit. Jackson's larger frame seemed ideal for pushing his way through the holiday
crowd and it didn't take them long to get to the exit.

"Which way?" Jackson stopped as he buttoned up his coat in the chilly winter air.
"Oh," Steve started, finally shaking off the stupor that seeing Jackson in the flesh

seemed to engender. "This way." Steve sheepishly smiled as he grabbed Jackson's
carry-on bag while Jackson took his small suitcase and followed Steve to the car.

It was much too crowded and the two men were too busy avoiding getting run

over by all the crazy drivers to speak. It took Steve a minute to remember where
he'd parked the car -- and he'd been so careful and even written down the location
so he could find it easier. But as he dug through his pockets, Steve realized he must
have dropped the note and so continued slowly through the lot, looking for his little
blue Toyota.

"There it is," Steve cried happily, pointing one row over and about ten cars up. "I

was pretty close," he mumbled.

Jackson grinned good-naturedly. "No worries, we're in no rush. We've got ten

whole days. We can waste a few minutes in a parking lot without too much
trouble."

Steve just laughed and shook his head. He really did try to make a good

impression.

They stowed the luggage in Steve's trunk and were silent as Steve fought the

traffic to get out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Steve let out a sigh of relief as he turned onto the express way.
"Finally." He smiled, huffing out another breath as he merged into traffic. "How

was your flight?"

"Good. Slept for most of the trip. Had a last-minute change to the case so I had to

pull an all-nighter to get it done before I caught the plane."

"That sucks." Steve frowned in sympathy.
Jackson shrugged. "Rather pull an all-nighter than have to bring it here and

interrupt my holiday with you."

Steve cast a mischievous grin. "Definitely," he agreed emphatically.
The rest of the trip passed in pleasant conversation. Jackson described his current

case, enlightening Steve as to the stupid thing this judge was asking for before he
heard their case in mid-January.

"Honestly, I don't know, but sometimes I think part of the prerequisite to being a

judge is being crazier than a bucket of worms in a bowl full of jelly."

"Really? Worms? Eww." Steve wrinkled his lip in disgust at the image that

popped in his head.

Jackson just laughed and continued his story and Steve knew he'd never make it

as a lawyer. He had no patience for stuff like that.

Steve spoke about his bakery and some of the crazy orders people tried to make

at the last minute.

"So this secretary calls today, about five minutes before we close. She wants a

five-tiered cake for their corporate Christmas party. But she wants it tomorrow.
And she's talking all snooty. Like she's got a gold ingot stuck in her throat or
something and I'm privileged just to hear it warble as she yammers. I'm trying to tell
her it's not possible and she's not listening and she's describing all the things she
wants on this cake. Like Santas and reindeers and all kinds of crazy, intricate shit.
And I'm telling her no, in the most polite way I can, and she's just not listening.

"So I totally give up and yell into the phone. 'Lady, you're totally crazy and we

can't do it.' Well that shuts her up for all of five seconds. Then she says. 'Do you
know who you're talking to? My boss is the high muckety-muck of shitville and he
goes golfing every Sunday with your boss. If you don't want to loose your job,
you'd better do what I say.'"

"High muckety-muck of shitville?" Jackson repeated, raising his eyebrow

dramatically.

"I'm paraphrasing. Not like I was actually paying much attention anyways. I

mean, who could listen to a voice like that for more than ten seconds anyways?"

Jackson snorted and coughed at the same time and Steve glanced over at him,

making sure he wasn't choking or anything. But the red face and telltale shaking of
shoulders wasn't unusual. Jackson was trying not to laugh at him again. Steve had
seen it a thousand times through the LCD, but seeing it in person was somehow so
much more appealing.

"Hey, do you want me to finish or not?" Steve asked, feigning indignation.
Jackson took a minute and cleared his throat several times.
"Yes, by all means please continue the story of the high muckety-muck from

shitville." Jackson chuckled.

"It wasn't the high muckety-muck, it was his secretary. Pay attention. So

anyways," Steve continued with a feigned miffed shrug and a toss of his short red
hair. "She pauses for all of five seconds and then says, 'Not you. I mean the owner
of the store. My boss and the owner are golf buddies and you'd just better do what
you're told.'"

"Like I've ever actually done what people told me to. So I tell her, in the most

posh, prissy voice I can manage that I am the owner of the store and that she's full
of shit. And even that doesn't shut her up, and she barely pauses for a breath and
says, 'The owner of your chain, you moronic nincompoop.'"

"Nincompoop?" Jackson queried.
"I'm paraphrasing," Steve replied with a shrug.
"Sorry, please continue."
"Indeed." Steve arched his eyebrow, looking haughtily at his passenger.
"Little shit." Jackson choked back a laugh.
"That's what I said," Steve continued. "So I very politely told this stupid bitch that

she was barking up the wrong tree. We are not a chain. I was the owner/manager
and there was no one higher than me. And that I've never played golf in my life and
the only balls I played with are the kind that are attached to the thing that I like
going up my ass. Well, the shriek she gave was nearly enough to make my ears
bleed and then she started to screech like some crazy hen. So I just shouted over
her cackling and told her she probably had the wrong number and hung up on her.

"I mean seriously, what kind of idiot calls the day before Christmas demanding a

thing like that? I mean she obviously screwed up and forgot to order it for her boss.
Well, man up, sister, and take it like a man and stop trying to yank my dick with all
that golf shit."

By the time Steve finished his tirade, Jackson was clutching onto his seatbelt,

laughing so hard Steve was afraid he was going to choke himself to death.

"See, that's exactly the same reaction Geoff and Jessica had while they were

listening to the conversation. Seriously, I know the customer is king and all that
crap, but some people are stupider than a, than a, a bucket of worms in chocolate
pudding."

Jackson chortled and chuckled the rest of the way home. It was lucky they were

so close now, otherwise Steve was afraid Jackson might choke on his snickers.

"Well, here we are," Steve said, pulling up into the drive way of a small two-story

house. He was nervous about what Jackson would think. He wanted to make a
good first impression on Jackson. It was important to Steve that Jackson like his
small house.

"It's beautiful." Jackson smiled, taking in all the lights and Christmas decorations

adorning the small house. The neighbourhood was charming with all its festive
cheer lining the streets, but Steve's house was by far the most decorated.

"It really suits you." Jackson turned his beautiful smile to Steve.
"Thanks," Steve muttered shyly. He ducked down and grabbed the suitcase from

the trunk while Jackson grabbed his carry-on and led the way inside.

"It's small, but it's cozy." He put the suitcase by the door and kicked off his shoes.

"There's a small bathroom to the right there, but if you'd like to take a shower, it's
upstairs."

"Oh, I'd love a shower. I feel grimy from the trip."
"No problem." Steve grinned. He tossed his overcoat onto a nearby chair and

grabbed the suitcase again. "Just leave you shoes and jacket by the door. I'll hang
them up later." He led the way upstairs. "Did you want to go out to dinner? There's
a lovely Italian restaurant just a couple of blocks away and they're open late."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not go out. I'm beat."
"No problem, I'll make us something good." Steve turned quickly and couldn't

help but notice that Jackson was ogling his ass. Steve blushed, pleased at the
attention and put a little more sway into his hips as he continued up the stairs.
Thank God for the long jacket that hid his large butt.

"Don't go to any trouble," Jackson began, but Steve interrupted.
"No trouble. I love cooking, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." Steve could hear the grin in Jackson's voice and gave his ass a little

wiggle as he reached the top of the stairs.

"So, to the left is the bedroom and to the right is the bathroom. Towels, soap, and

extra razor and toothbrush are on the shelf," Steve pointed out. "Feel free to use
anything you'd like. I'll put your suitcase in the bedroom. I've cleaned out the top
two drawers of the dresser and there's even room in the closet, so feel free to
unpack, if you're up to it." Steve stepped past Jackson and opened the door right
across from the bathroom.

"The other door is the office. For the most part, it's full of junk. But look around

at anything you like. Mi casa and all that."

"Thanks." Jackson grinned, stepping closer to Steve. Steve looked up, staring into

Jackson's beautiful brown eyes. Doe eyes, he'd heard that description before. He
never understood what that meant until he'd met Jackson. Such beautiful, deep
brown eyes, like looking into the soul of heaven itself. Steve loved looking into

those eyes; he could lose himself in those eyes.

Jackson stepped closer still, until their bodies brushed gently together with each

breath they took.

"You…" Jackson began, hands raising slightly. The loud jangling of the

telephone interrupted them.

"Oh." Steve jumped and gave a nervous giggle. "That's probably my mom. She

won't stop calling until she talks to me." He stepped back into the hallway, giving an
anxious smile and blushing furiously as he went.

"You go ahead and shower. Come down when you're ready while I start supper.

No rush." Steve whirled and fled down the stairs, trying to grab the phone before
the answering machine kicked in and his mom said something embarrassing in the
message that Jackson would no doubt hear. Steve wasn't the most alert person
when woken up, so his phone and answering machine were loud enough to wake
the dead. He'd have to remember to turn down the volume while Jackson was here,
otherwise the poor guy would get woken up at all hours of the day and night.
Steve's parents didn't pay attention to the whole time difference thing.

Steve grabbed the phone just before the answering machine picked up.
"So is he there?" his mom asked without the usual prelude chatter.
"Mom," Steve whined, feeling like he was twelve years old again.
He tossed his suit coat onto the couch and walked into the kitchen, the phone

cradled in the crook of his neck as he fended off his mother's questions as best he
could while he cooked dinner.

By the time Jackson came down, the linguine in clam sauce with a microgreen

salad and honey vinaigrette was almost ready and Steve's mom was safely diverted,
for the time being at least.

"That was quick." Steve grinned, stirring the noodles and waiting for the muscles

to pop open before plating. "Sorry, forgot to mention that there's not a lot of hot
water here."

"No prob. Woke me up, which is exactly what I needed."
"At least you're a good sport about it. Whenever my parents visit my mom shrieks

like a harpy. She says she always forgets, but I think she enjoys the shrieking."

Jackson laughed softly.
Steve startled, bumping into the stove. "What?" he asked, turning to look at

Jackson.

"You have flour on your ass." Jackson guffawed, his hands brushing against

Steve's ass again as they dusted him off. "It's the perfect imprint of your hands on
your ass."

"What?" A mortified Steve turned to look at his butt. Sure enough, he could just

catch a glimpse of the flour handprints on his ass. It was a habit he'd picked up in
the shop to wipe his hands on his apron or pants. Usually he didn't worry about it,

as it hardly showed up on his flour-dusted uniform, but with his dark suit, it
showed up in blaring contrast.

"Oh shit." Steve hastily untucked his shirt, pulling it down to hide his bubble butt

as best he could.

"Here, you stir this and I'll run up and change real quick." Steve almost tossed the

spoon at Jackson as he fled upstairs.

He could hear Jackson's amused chuckle follow him as he fled, but there was

nothing else he could do. Steve had worked hard to lose those ten pounds, and he
didn't want all that effort to be for naught the first day Jackson was there.

In his room, Steve grabbed his baggy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt that

hung to mid-thigh. He knew it was too big on him, but all the better to hide his
slight paunch and huge butt.

Steve galloped downstairs quickly. He needed to check on supper before it

burned. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, brought up short by the sight of
this man he'd been staring at through a computer for over a year, here in his very
own kitchen.

Jackson was tall, taller than Steve's own five foot eleven, closer to six foot three.

It was a good height for the man, made him look even more imposing, as if that
were possible. His brown hair was cut short, and every time Steve saw it, it was
neatly quaffed into perfect order, unlike Steve's own unruly, curly red hair. Jackson
was built more like a runner, with long, taut muscles flexing beneath golden skin.
To Steve, he was the perfect picture of masculine beauty. Long, straight nose,
angular chin, and deep-set eyes, a little wider apart than usual, all set off the perfect
package.

Good thing tomorrow was Christmas. Steve was looking forward to unwrapping

his gift. The thought made Steve giggle like a kid and Jackson turned at the sound.
He smiled a perplexed smile as he looked at Steve's sweatshirt curiously.

"Hey," he greeted cheerfully, stirring the noodles. "I don't think I've burnt it yet,

but I'll let the expert take over before I set the place on fire.

"You're not that bad," Steve encouraged. "You just need practice."
"My practice consists of ordering takeout. Much easier on the body than trying to

stomach the stuff I make."

Despite Jackson's protests, the linguine was perfect and Steve plated it with little

sprigs of parsley and the salad on the side.

"That looks wonderful." Jackson sniffed appreciatively.
"Thanks." Steve grinned. "Sit and enjoy. Wine?"
"Well, since I don't have to drive, why not?" Jackson laughed. Steve poured a

sweet white wine he'd been saving in the fridge for a special occasion before he sat
down.

"Mmm, this tastes even better than it smells." Jackson nodded approvingly as he

dug in.

Steve smiled, pleased that Jackson liked it. "There's more, so eat as much as you

like."

"Oh, don't tempt me. You know what they say, the way to a man's heart is

through his stomach."

"Well, if that's true, I'll have to cook for you more often." Steve blushed and

looked down at his plate.

Before Jackson could say anything more, Steve continued on. "So I've got lots of

sightseeing planned for us. Christmas is tomorrow, so most everything is closed.
And the twenty-sixth is sometimes just as bad as Black Friday, so we don't even
want to pretend to go out then, but for the rest of your time, I was thinking about
the aquarium, and the planetarium, and maybe a hockey game or something, if
you'd like."

"That sounds good, but I want to see your bakery most of all. Ever since you told

me you were a baker, I've been dying to see your shop."

"Really?" Steve asked, surprised.
"Yes, I'd love to see the place where you make your wonderful creations."
"Wow, no one's ever asked to see it before." Steve was too embarrassed to look

up. He pushed linguine around on his plate, absurdly pleased with Jackson's words,
but still too uncertain how to respond.

Jackson reached out and took Steve's hand in his own warm one from where it

lay on the table. He clasped Steve's hand tight, his thumb tracing gentle circles over
Steve's knuckles.

"How could anyone not want to see the place that makes you so happy? I've

never seen anyone so happy when they talk about their work the way you are."
Steve looked up, thrilled into speechlessness at Jackson's words.

"Besides, I need to check out my competition." Jackson gave a wicked grin and a

wink.

Steve laughed. "Don't worry, there's no competition. I love food, but I'm in love

with you." Steve bit his lip, mortified by what he'd said. While it was true, he'd had
no intention of telling Jackson, especially not on the man's first day in his home.
How embarrassing. Steve could feel the nuclear blush engulfing his face and closed
his eyes, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him down.

Jackson squeezed Steve's hand, hard.
"Hey," Jackson said softly, causing Steve to glance up and then look quickly

away again.

"Hey," Jackson repeated louder. When Steve glanced up again, Jackson grabbed

his chin, holding him firmly so he couldn't pull away.

"The feeling is, without a doubt, mutual. I think I was in love with you the first

time I saw you blush on that very first Skype. Even through the screen I could see

you were someone special, someone worth getting to know. Did you know I
bought new computer screens three times, just so I could see you better?"

"Really?" Steve couldn't help the happy grin that popped out.
"Really. Every time I heard about a better screen or higher resolution, I had to get

it. I wanted to see you better, closer, more realistically than before. My friends
thought I was nuts, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to reach through that screen
and touch you."

"That's cool," Steve replied, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "The guys

in the bakery could always tell when I missed our Skype. They said I was grumpy
the whole week until I could talk to you again. I know we texted a lot in between,
but that wasn't the same as seeing you, even if it was just through a computer
screen."

Steve hesitated, embarrassed. But he wanted Jackson to know him, to understand

how much Jackson meant to him.

"Did you know Sunday was my big masturbation evening?" Steve pulled away,

unable to keep eye contact with such an embarrassing confession, no matter how
truthful it was. "Just thinking about talking to you had me half-hard all day. By the
time our Skype was over Sunday evening, I was hard enough to break boulders.
And thinking about you and imagining your voice whispering in my ear had me
shooting so hard I could have parted the Red Sea."

Jackson snorted and grinned at Steve as he shared the joke. "Same for me. I was

so tired Monday mornings that I would often wish I could stay in bed all day,
imagining you beside me. You've been my jerk-off fantasy since our first face-to-
face."

"You're not disappointed?" Steve had to ask, even though he was afraid of the

answer.

"Disappointed in what?" Jackson queried, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Well, you're so handsome. You could have any guy you wanted. I'm not

exactly…"

"You're perfect just the way you are." Jackson's voice was firm, resolute with his

belief. He pulled Steve's chin again, forcing Steve to look at him.

"But I'm fat. And I've got a huge butt."
Jackson had the temerity to laugh. "Is that why you're wearing the clothes from

the Jolly Green Giant?"

"Well, I didn't want to frighten you off. You've never seen how big it really is."

Steve glanced away, embarrassed by the turn in the conversation.

"Honey, I hate to tell you, but I've seen your gorgeous ass many times. How many

times have you gotten up and turned your back to the computer to get your tea? It
was the highlight of my conversations with you every time you got up and I got an
eyeful of that beautiful ass of yours. If I could have reached though the screen and

kissed that perfect bubble butt, I would have. Trust me when I say that your
beautiful ass has featured in many, many midnight fantasies. I was so happy to see
you in person and when you were climbing up the stairs in front of me, I nearly
came in my jeans. Your ass is the most perfect ass I've ever seen."

Steve harrumphed, uncomfortable with the compliment.
"And at least to once a month," Jackson pressed. "I'm the happy witness to a wet

T-shirt display when you spill your drink on yourself. Seeing your body framed in
those wet clothes, well I'll tell you that's the highlight of my month. You're
beautiful, just the way you are, honey. I wish you could see it too. Is that the reason
you joined the gym?" Jackson looked like a light had just clicked on in his head.

"Well, yeah. I wanted to look good for you."
"Honey, you look perfect. I love you just the way you are. But I enjoyed hearing

about your adventures turning the gym to the dark-chocolate side. Made me want to
be here, tasting your brownies instead of some guy named Jim. I was so jealous of
him."

Steve grinned happily at that. Thinking that Jackson could be jealous of someone

else sent his heart racing in his chest.

"Do you really think I look okay? Even though I'm fat?"
"Honey, you're not fat. You're perfect. You're healthy and you work hard. There's

nothing wrong with the way you look. I think you're beautiful."

Steve bit his lip, hesitating. He didn't want to sound needy and whiny, but he had

to know.

"Then why didn't you kiss me at the airport?" Steve's voice cracked as he asked,

almost afraid to hear the answer.

Jackson smiled, leaning closer to Steve until there was only a breath between

their lips.

"I wanted to. The moment I saw you I wanted to throw you up against the nearest

wall and ravish you until we both screamed."

"Then why didn't you?" Steve almost pleaded. The thought of Jackson ravaging

him had Steve so hard he saw spots floating before his eyes.

"I didn't want our first kiss to be in the airport in front of prying eyes. I wanted to

savour your taste and your smile all to myself." Jackson smiled wryly. "Corny I
know, but there it is."

"It's not corny," Steve breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from Jackson's. "It's

romantic and perfect."

Jackson leaned forward, capturing Steve's lips in a soft, tender kiss that quickly

escalated to a passionate flame. Dinner and wine were soon forgotten as Steve
pulled Jackson's body away from the table and pressed himself full length against
the hot male form he'd been fantasizing about for over a year.

"You feel so good," Steve muttered as he pulled away for a breath. Jackson

grabbed Steve's face, dragging him back for another kiss, as if unwilling to let him
go for even a moment. Jackson's tongue thrust between Steve's lips, invading and
taking over Steve's mouth, and Steve loved it. It felt real, solid, like no one else had
ever felt before. Jackson felt right in his arms, and Steve never wanted to let go.

"Upstairs," Jackson mumbled against Steve's mouth, still refusing to release him

from the torrential kiss that rained down upon them.

The two stumbled their way up the stairs, bumping into walls and doorways as

they went. Still without breaking their kiss, they scrambled to get their clothes off as
they moved. Jackson fumbled with his pants while Steve kicked off his sweats and
underwear with ease. Jackson barely relinquished Steve's lips long enough for them
to pull their shirts over their heads before he was once again overwhelming Steve's
mouth with an aggression that bordered on fanaticism.

It seemed forever before they bumped into the doorframe of Steve's bedroom

and then against the footboard itself. Jackson stretched behind him fumbling for the
light switch, and both men blinked as the bright light washed over them.

Jackson pulled himself away and Steve couldn't help the small mewl of

disappointment at the loss of those soft lips.

"Don't worry, baby. We've got lots of time."
Steve whimpered, reaching for Jackson's warm body again, but Jackson evaded

him. Jackson reached out, gave a gentle shove, and pushed Steve's unresisting body
down on the soft, fluffy comforter. Jackson stared down at Steve with a predatory
look in his eye.

Steve shivered as he felt that gaze raking his hypersensitive body. If the man

continued to look at him like that, Steve was sure he'd come from that alone, and he
didn't want that. He wanted Jackson in him when he came.

"Turn off the light and come to bed," Steve whispered as seductively as he could

manage. He raised his arm as if to draw Jackson closer, but Jackson shook his
head.

"Sorry, love. But the light stays on."
"No." Steve couldn't help the whine. He felt so awkward with the light on.

Despite what Jackson said, Steve knew he didn't have the body anywhere near as
spectacular as Jackson's.

"No, love." Jackson gave another wicked smile. "You really are beautiful, and I

want to see all of you." Jackson kicked off his jeans and underwear before Steve
could protest further, and anything else Steve was going to say flew out of his head
as he finally gazed at his magnificent soon-to-be lover.

"You're beautiful," Steve whispered in awe.
"You're very hot yourself." Jackson grinned. He knelt on the foot of the bed and

crawled to where Steve sprawled. Very slowly, he lowered himself over Steve so
that every inch was covered, from chest to toe, by Jackson's body.

Steve reached out, tracing the golden skin before him. Jackson closed his eyes, as

though savoring the moment.

"That feels amazing." Jackson's hips and body undulated against Steve's, pressing

the man's hard cock against Steve's thigh again and again.

"You feel amazing. I've been waiting forever to touch you like this." Steve sighed,

watching his pale fingers as they roamed, tracing intricate patterns over Jackson's
bronze skin.

"Well, wait no longer and feel free to touch as much as you want."
Steve shifted a bit, until his hand could grasp Jackson's cock.
"Shit." Jackson bucked his hips, surprised at Steve's firm grip.
"At the risk of sounding cliché… my what a huge cock you have." Steve grinned.
"All the better to fuck you through the mattress with." Jackson grunted and closed

his eyes, clearly trying to control himself as Steve gave a languid tug on the hard
organ in his hand.

"If you don't stop that, I'm going to come in about five seconds." Jackson tried to

look firm, but the pleasure coursing over his face belied his efforts.

"Hmm, I wouldn't want that. I want you to fuck me through the mattress." But

Steve gave another tug, enjoying the feel of Jackson too much to stop.

With visible effort, Jackson reached down, grabbing Steve's hands and pinned

them over his head.

"Pushy bottom," he muttered as he claimed Steve's lips in a kiss so carnal it was

only moments before Steve's own member was dripping pre-come and he was
straining against Jackson's body, trying to find release.

Jackson gave an evil chuckle and sat up, resting on his knees between Steve's

legs.

"Lube? Condoms?" he demanded.
"Drawer," Steve panted, too charged up to do more than point with his chin.
Jackson smiled, looking like he knew full well how worked up he'd gotten Steve

already. He leaned over Steve, stretching for the bedside table that Steve indicated.
He'd barely gotten the drawer open before Steve's arms caressed his thighs.

Steve's palms caressed up Jackson's taut legs, floating over his hips and up

toward his ribs, moving down over his lower back and sweeping over his ass
before returning to his thighs and starting the journey over again and again as Steve
pressed quick butterfly kisses and gentle nipping bites to Jackson's abdomen and
hips.

"You taste so good." Steve moaned as he added long, languid strokes with his

tongue.

"Fuck!" Jackson shouted, clutching at the headboard, allowing Steve to touch at

his leisure.

Steve could see the tension in the man's body as it braced above his head. He

smiled as this brought Jackson's cock almost directly in front of his face. He blew a
teasing breath over the quivering cock and watched with delight as a small pearl-
colored drop fell from the tip and onto Steve's chest.

His hands continued their caressing path over the beautiful skin in front of him as

his teasing licks and bites drew slowly closer to their prize.

"Suck it," Jackson commanded hoarsely. Steve could see the man's knuckles

were white where they clutched the headboard and it made him smile. Who knew
he could drive the man so wild with only a few kisses?

Without hesitation, Steve shifted down a little on the comforter and he kissed

Jackson's quivering member, letting his tongue and lips play over the shaft as he
moved back and forth. Continuing his teasing torture, Steve didn't allow himself to
touch the weeping crown or engulf the whole thing into his mouth, no matter how
much he wanted it. This dance was about pleasure and torture and he wanted to
enjoy it as much as he could before he gave into his desires to be fucked into
oblivion.

"Suck. It," Jackson ordered, sounding as though he'd reached his limit.
Steve said nothing, grinning as he travelled slowly up the shaft again until he

reached the tip. Without warning, Steve opened his mouth wide, consuming
Jackson's entire member with one swift move.

Jackson shouted, unable to keep still as he bucked his hips. Years of swallowing

cannolis and cream puffs had to be good for something. Steve relaxed his throat
muscles, allowing Jackson free rein as the man fucked his mouth like a man
possessed.

Steve hollowed his cheeks, flattened his tongue, and swallowed around Jackson's

shaft as it went deeper into his throat. His hands drifted over Jackson's hips and
thighs, never holding the man down, just giving him a brace to anchor against as
Jackson's frantic rhythm stuttered.

"I'm coming." Jackson gasped, eyes flying open as he watched his shaft disappear

time and again into Steve's swollen lips. Steve clasped Jackson's thighs, telling the
man it was okay to come in his mouth as Jackson lost all rhythm and thrust as deep
as he could.

"Steve," Jackson shouted as he thrust once, twice, three times and stilled so far

down Steve's throat he could touch Steve's heart, and came. Steve swallowed again
and again, massaging Jackson's shaft with his throat as the man twitched with the
aftershocks. Steve pulled back a bit, allowing the smaller bursts of come to gather
on his tongue before he swallowed them down, allowing him to taste the
bittersweet flavor as he rolled Jackson's come over his sensitive palate.

Jackson's euphoric high calmed as he rested his hands on either side of Steve's

head and panted, trying to get his breath back. Steve licked and sucked gently,
cleaning the spend that he'd missed and bringing Jackson down slowly from his

climax.

"Jesus, God," Jackson muttered. "That was amazing." He panted.
Steve grinned as Jackson pulled himself out with a resounding pop as Steve

continued to suck steadily at the spent member.

Jackson grinned himself and captured Steve's mouth in a sensuous kiss. His

tongue swept in, tasting himself in Steve's mouth and Steve groaned. Not many
men were willing to kiss him after head. It was nice to see Jackson wasn't one of
them. Steve loved to give head, almost as much as he loved to kiss. He was sure
that with Jackson, he'd quickly become addicted to the man's many flavors.

Jackson's hard shaft rubbed against Steve's own, surprising him.
"You're hard again." Steve whispered in wonder between kisses.
"I never went soft." Jackson smiled, pulling away to gaze down into Steve's eyes.

"Ready for that fucking through the mattress?" he quipped.

Steve moaned, thrusting his hips against Jackson's in answer. He was so hard and

horny it hurt, and once Jackson had mentioned fucking, all of Steve's pent-up
desire came rushing to the fore front again. He wanted Jackson, desperately.

"Stay still," Jackson demanded firmly as he sat up again. "No distracting me this

time. I want that gorgeous ass and I want it now." He gave Steve's ass a playful
squeeze as he reached for the lube again. Jackson dug around in the drawer for a
moment before coming up with a huge bottle.

Jackson looked from the bottle to Steve, eyebrow raised in question.
"Hopeful were we?" he teased.
"More like desperate." Steve grinned back. "I was determined to seduce you

every chance I got. And since it's Christmas, I didn't want to waste time trying to
find an open store, in case we ran out."

Jackson threw back his head and laughed long and loud. It took a minute for his

laughter to die down to amused chuckles and by that time, Steve was pouting.

"Fear not." Jackson leaned forward, kissing him silly again. "I had the same

thought. Except I brought three smaller tubes rather than one large one."

Steve grinned and pulled Jackson in for another kiss. Jackson complied readily

and was still kissing Steve as he dug blindly through the drawer, looking for the
condoms. He couldn't seem to find them, even though he rooted through the whole
drawer. Jackson had to break the kiss to look for them and Steve whined.

Without a word, Jackson pulled out a large box of condoms, raising that eyebrow

in what Steve already knew was his 'amused at Steve' look.

"Shut up and fuck me." Steve rolled his eyes and slapped Jackson's thigh, hard.
"Yes, sir." Jackson cackled.
Jackson popped the lid off the new, huge bottle of lube and lubed up his fingers.

Without preamble, Jackson thrust one finger, knuckle deep, into Steve's ass.

"Oh." Steve hissed and moaned at the bite of pain. Jackson paused, allowing him

a moment to get used to the intrusion, but Steve thrust his hips demandingly. He
loved a bit of pain with his pleasure, especially with such an aggressive and
assertive lover like Jackson.

Jackson obliged, plunging his finger in and out slowly, stretching Steve's

entrance.

"More," Steve demanded after several minutes.
Jackson pushed two, then three fingers into Steve's ass, scissoring them and

slicking his hole.

"You look thoroughly debauched riding my fingers in your gorgeous ass,"

Jackson crooned.

"Yes," Steve groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet Jackson's movements.

Jackson quirked his fingers, brushing Steve's prostate.

"God, yes," Steve cried out. Again and again Jackson brushed his hot bundle of

nerves, sending Steve into the throes of ecstasy.

"Fuck me," Steve demanded, grabbing on to Jackson's shoulders as he rode those

devious fingers as they filled his body with such pleasure Steve was sure he would
explode at any moment.

"Are you ready?" Jackson stilled, fingers pressing against Steve's prostate in pure

torture.

"Yes, yes. Ready. Now!" Steve panted, desperate to come.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to hurt you."
"Yes. Yes. Now, now, now, now, now," Steve chanted frantically, pinching

Jackson's shoulder to get the man moving.

"Hmm, if I wasn't so turned on by your hot body, I'd torture you more, but I've

got to have you, now," Jackson purred into Steve's ear as he thrust his fingers
deeper, obviously enjoying Steve’s begging.

"Yes, now," Steve whined.
Jackson had the condom on and his iron-hard shaft slicked up in record time. He

paused at the entrance, his cock resting against Steve's puckered entrance.

"Look at me, baby," Jackson demanded. "Watch how well we fit together."
Steve couldn't respond, shaking his head no instead. His eyes were scrunched

shut and he wriggled his hips, demanding Jackson continue.

"No," Jackson said, his tone firm and brooking no argument. "Open your eyes

and watch. I want you to see how beautiful we are together."

Steve keened loudly and it took several moments for him to gather the control

needed to open his eyes. He looked down to where he and Jackson were connected
and groaned as Jackson pressed inside.

In one smooth, unrelenting glide, Jackson thrust forcefully, pushing himself

deeper and deeper until his balls came to rest against Steve's ass.

"Isn't it beautiful? Your ass swallowing my cock like it belongs there, like it's

coming home." Jackson gave a little pulsing thrust, causing Steve to cry out again.

"Yes. Home," Steve panted, knowing Jackson was waiting for a reply.
"Yes," was all Jackson could manage as he pulled out almost all the way until just

the tip of the crown remained inside Steve. "Home," the word was sighed as
Jackson thrust slowly, deep inside Steve's welcoming channel.

Over and over Jackson thrust completely inside, prolonging the brush against

Steve's prostate each time. He watched in rapt fascination as he disappeared into
Steve each time.

"You feel so good." Jackson gasped as he sank to the root inside his lover.

"You're so hot and I can feel you wrapped so tight around me. I could fuck you for
hours."

Steve could only keen his needy response. He was far too lost in sensations to

string together an intelligible phrase.

Jackson grabbed Steve's wandering hands, pinning them beside Steve's head as it

thrashed about on the bed.

"I'm going to fuck you until you scream," he promised, grinning. He leaned

forward, thrusting his tongue into Steve's mouth, possessing it like he possessed
Steve's ass. Steve opened willingly for the intrusion and whimpered as Jackson
pulled away long minutes later.

"You look good ravished like this." Jackson grinned. "Keep your hands there," he

commanded, leaning back onto his knees. He lifted Steve's hips until Steve was at
the perfect angle and then the real pounding began. Jackson was like a steel piston
driving in and out of Steve's ass with such force Steve had to put his arms out to
make sure he didn't bang his head against the headboard.

Steve planted his feet on the mattress and lifted his hips, meeting Jackson's

frenetic pace, thrust for thrust.

"Feels so good," Steve panted, sweat beading his forehead as the pleasure

continued to grow and run like lightning down his spine. His cock was weeping
pre-come like a faucet and bouncing off his abdomen each time Jackson pounded
into his ass. He wanted to reach down and yank it to completion, but he couldn't let
go of the headboard.

Jackson's thrusts became quicker, maintaining almost constant contact with

Steve's prostate until Steve's could hardly see through the sparks of pleasure
shooting behind his eyes.

"Coming." Jackson grunted and Steve could do nothing but nod his head in

agreement. Jackson's thrusts stuttered and lost their rhythm and Jackson gave a
strangled moan that was Steve's name.

Steve could see the exact moment when Jackson came. The two men stared at

each other with rapt intensity and the sight of that beautiful face as the pleasure
swept over his features tossed Steve over the edge and plunging into the most

incredible orgasm of his life.

With a surprised moan, Steve came at almost the exact same moment as his lover.

Without any stimulation to his cock, Steve shot streams of come over Jackson and
himself. His eyes remained locked on Jackson's as they pulsed and shook with the
aftershocks that rocked their bodies.

"Fuck." Jackson moaned, collapsing on Steve's sweaty body. "That was

incredible."

Steve nodded, wrapping arms and legs around Jackson, holding the man tightly

against his own body, uncaring of the sweat and semen that covered them both. He
could feel Jackson softening in his ass and shivered with pleasure as that fantastic
cock slid out of his passage.

"Let me get rid of this," Jackson said, rolling to the side, careful not to put all his

weight on Steve. With deft fingers, he tied off the filled condom and tossed it into
the wastebasket at the side of the bed.

Jackson quickly rolled back, pulling Steve into his arms again, holding Steve

tightly against his chest.

"You okay?" Jackson said after a few minutes.
"Better than," Steve mumbled, hands wrapping around Jackson's chest and

holding the man just as hard as he himself was being held.

They were silent for long moments, neither feeling the need to fill the magical

night with words. Steve knew how he felt, even though it was so soon. There was
no doubt in his mind that Jackson was it for him. Steve had never felt like this
before for anyone. He'd come so hard he'd seen stars, and without any stimulation
to anything but his ass. He could only imagine what it would be like the longer they
spent in each other's company.

Jackson, demanding and assertive man that he was, was perfect for Steve in every

way.

"It's almost midnight," Jackson said out of the blue. Steve glanced over at the

digital alarm clock on the bedside table.

"So it is." He yawned and smiled. "Ready for a nap?"
"Almost." Jackson hedged, pulling away until he could look down at Steve's face.
"Something wrong?" Steve asked.
"No. But it's tradition in my family to give one gift to your loved ones on

Christmas Eve and then the rest on Christmas Day."

"Okay," Steve drawled, not sure where this was going.
"Okay. So I don't want you to think I'm a stalker or anything. But…" Jackson

trailed off, clearly uncertain how to continue.

"Hey." Steve took Jackson's head in his hands. "You can tell me anything," Steve

reassured him and smiled.

"Well, okay. See, it's like this. There's a job opening in San Diego and they've

offered it to me."

"Really?" Steve was suddenly sitting up, looking down at Jackson like a kid in a

candy shop, gazing at his favorite treat.

"Yes. It starts in February. It's not a promotion or anything, but it sounds like a

great position. I haven't given them my answer yet. I wanted to see how this went
and how you felt about it."

"Where's your phone?" Steve demanded, jumping from the bed and rooting

around in Jackson's pants. He spotted a phone on the bureau that wasn't his and
pounced on it with fanatical glee.

"Call them," Steve demanded, thrusting the phone in Jackson's face. "Call them

and tell them you accept."

"It's much too late to call them, it's almost midnight." Jackson shook his head,

grinning from ear to ear.

"Then text them. Tell them you accept." Steve jumped back onto the bed, sitting

cross-legged in front of Jackson. It was with some difficulty that Jackson's eyes
returned to Steve's face, instead of staring at the already hardening cock rearing its
happy head at him again.

"Are you sure?" Jackson sat up as well. "I don't want to force you into anything."
"You're not forcing me. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I was trying to

figure out how I could move the bakery to New York without my parents killing
me. This is the best present I've ever gotten." Steve thrust the phone at Jackson
again.

"Do it," he demanded.
"Pushy bottom," Jackson complained with an indulgent smile on his face. It took

only a few keystrokes for Jackson to comply with Steve's demand. Steve grinned
like a lunatic the whole time and cackled once Jackson had closed his phone.

"I've got a lot of stuff to move," Jackson said, leaning forward.
"No problem. After New Year’s I can take some time off work and come down to

help you pack." Steve smiled, leaning forward to brush a kiss over Jackson's chin.

"It might be too much to fit in your house."
"We can put it in storage." Steve kissed Jackson's cheek.
"I like my stuff."
"Then we can find ourselves a new place." Steve kissed Jackson's other cheek.
"I love you."
"I love you too." Steve leapt the few inches that separated them. He threw his

arms around Jackson's neck, pulling the man tight against his eager body. Steve
consumed Jackson's mouth, tongue thrusting in, claiming ownership and
demanding a response. Jackson wrapped his arms around Steve, pushing Steve
back onto the bed, more than happy to respond in a way that brought them both to
screaming climax.

If it was even possible, their second round of lovemaking was even better than

their first time and Steve sighed, content with the world and everything in it as they
basked in the afterglow.

"It's after midnight." Jackson smiled, stroking Steve's hair off his sweaty brow.

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas to you too." Steve kissed Jackson's swollen lips with more love

and passion than he'd ever felt before.

"And many more."
Steve rained kisses over Jackson's body yet again, thrilling in the feel of his lover

in his arms. This was the best Christmas Steve had ever had. And with Jackson at
his side, they would only get better year after year.

End

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