When Changeling made the call for Santa's Helpers stories for Christmas, I had a pair of elves step right up. Well, Joey was grumbly and bah-humbuggy, but Bane knew exactly how to beat that out of him (literally!) *grins*
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Excerpt:
Fucking dolls.
Fucking satin dresses.
Fucking curls and eyelashes and...
Joey threw the clay molds across the room, the fucking things shattering. If he had to design one more motherfucking pink sparkly high-heeled shoe... He’d set the entire goddamn North Pole on fire.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you too, Joey.” Bane stood in the doorway of Joey’s workshop, hands on his hips, the little bauble on the top of his hat hanging over into his eyes.
“Fuck off. You’re supposed to knock!”
Bane was here. Bane was here. That meant he could lose his shit, totally, completely, and it would be okay.
“Not when the big guy sends me, I don’t. Not when he tells me to take care of my house before the entire year’s production is screwed up.” Bane tugged off his stupid hat and began to stalk toward Joey.
“Your house? Your house? I’m... I’m the best designer they have!” He backed away, his heart beating a little faster. “I invented Darling Daisy. I did Nikki Little. The entire line of Fashion Forwards? Mine!”
“He meant where we bed and eat, baby. Not the toy making.” Bane rumbled at him, moving closer. “You’re being a bad elf -- a very naughty elf -- and I’m here to fix it.”
“You keep your pointy ears over there.” Joey was having a snit. Damn it. A few growls from Bane was not going to derail it, either.
“No can do. The boss was very clear on what my only duties were until you’re in a much better mood.” Bane kept moving toward him, and Joey swore he could even smell the elf.
He put the worktable between them. “Don’t you have something in the garage to use a wrench on?”
“Not unless I drag you to the garage.”
“I’m not going to the garage.” He moved a little faster, his achingly hard cock making it hard to maneuver properly.
“No, I’ve got somewhere else in mind.” Bane was still moving, pushing him toward the back door of his workroom.
“No. No. Busy. Making more impossible fucking shoes so little Betsy has her dream doll and sweet Lucy gets everything she’s wished for.” It was the same shit every year. Same shit, different dolls. He was fucking stunning at his job, and Santa knew it.
“You’re not listening to me. The boss wants you off the floor and in my bed until you’ve had an attitude adjustment.” Bane was suddenly a whole lot closer. How did the man do that?
“You stop that.” Joey held one hand out, shook his head.
Bane grabbed his hand and pulled him up tight against his tall, strong body.
“No. I have deadlines.” Dresses to design. Faces to paint. Little accessories to create.
Bane pursed his lips. “You aren’t listening to me. This comes straight from the bo- Oh, fuck it.” Bending, Bane hoisted him up, fireman carry style. Strong arms wrapped around his legs, and he was carried like a sack of potatoes out into the cold.
Joey squealed, fists beating on Bane’s ass. He hated winter. Eggnog. Sparkly lights. Fucking peppermint!
“You’re just making this harder on yourself, Joey.”
He certainly didn’t seem to be slowing Bane down any, his lover marching them toward their little house at the far end of the compound. They were in the last one before the vast, endless landscape of snow. His screams couldn’t disturb anyone that way.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this job! I was in Palm Beach, freelancing for Mattel! Happy and tanned!” Elves belonged at the Pole, Bane had said. $You’re meant for this work.$ Bah.
“I’ll give you tanned.” One big hand landed on Joey’s ass. Hard.
Oh, fuck. That was hot.
Sean Michael
smut fixes everything
www.seanmichaelwrites.com
1 comment:
Great excerpt. Enticing! I must read more.
debby236 at gmail dot com
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