Muscle Bear Santa - 1. Santa's Visit

“'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even my cock―”

“Jordan, you ignorant slut!” Matt had his head on his lover’s lap and fixed his gaze on the man he had just interrupted. “Dammit, Jordy. Can’t you stop being a pig? How ’bout you read me the Moore poem the way he wrote it?”

“Hmmm, you want me to stop being a pig?” The innocence in Jordan’s tone was not convincing; he knew what he was doing.

“Okay, well, maybe not really stop. How about suspending it for the next hour?”

“Fine! But my cock’s not stirring at all. I’m a tad concerned about it. I shot a load while fucking you in the shower this morning. I shot a load while you fucked me in your office after lunch. I shot a load while we sucked each other off before dinner with your family. And I shot a load in the shower again, just a half hour ago. I think we killed it, Matt. Maybe I should ask Santa for a new one?”

“Nah, it’ll bounce back, babe. It always bounces back.” Matt reached under his head and gave the item under discussion a squeeze. “Plus, I’ve become rather fond of the little guy. I’m not ready to replace him yet.”

“Who you calling little, boy? Yours may be thicker but mine’s longer. Don’t go starting no argument you ain’t gonna win.” Leaning down, Jordan removed Matt’s hand from his pecker and gave the man a quick smooch on the lips. “Speaking of little, your little brother needs a large check as a Christmas gift. He did a bang-up job decorating the apartment for us, and he refused to accept payment for the work. I never, in a thousand lives, could have imagined having such a gorgeous tree. How the fuck did he manage to string so many LED lights on a fifteen-footer?”

“Beats me!” Matt looked around the apartment the men shared and smiled. “The kid’s good, those ornaments on the tree rock! Not too few, and not too many. He found ones large enough that the tree appears full without being crowded. I hate the ones that have everything and the kitchen sink on them. I understand people collect special keepsakes over a lifetime, but they don’t all have to go on at the same time. Half of them you can’t even see when they do that shit. There are so many, they hang some right in front of others. I say rotate them every year. Or spread them throughout the house or apartment.”

“How about you get us some more brandy, Matt? I’ll add another log to the fire while you do that. I’m enjoying staring at the fireplace today more than I do on other days. I think the wreath above it’s one of the reasons. It’s incredible how good it looks, and how well it fits in with the rest of the decorations. A circular version of the tree, hanging on a stone wall, instead of standing on the floor. Fuck! The hunky guy holding me ain’t too shabby either.”

“Hunky guy? Where? I’ll kill the bastard.” The silly banter made them chuckle as they rearranged themselves on the couch. “Or maybe I can just pee all over you. You know, like to mark my territory?”

“Now who’s the pig? I like that your brother kept the mantel simple. Two red tapers in tall gilded holders―which I would consider tacky most of the time—he totally made work. Plus those stockings! All our friends are gonna want to steal ‘em. I wonder where your baby bro got hold of red velvet, white-fur bordered, black-leather trimmed ones? Kinda kinky if you ask me!

“I think the red and white tulips are a nice touch too. And all the votives look great. He said a handful are scented, too many and it’d get overwhelming. Told me to use the ones with no smelly stuff tomorrow, so the perfume doesn’t cover up the aroma from the food.”

Matt shook his head, he often joked his younger brother should have been the gay one in the family. “Who would have thunk it? A hairy, muscular, heterosexual, Italian college jock, has better decorating sense than two Boystown homos. There go the stereotypes.”

“What did you think of lunch?” Jordan idly ran his fingers through the forest of hair on his partner’s chest.

“I liked it, Jordy. I really liked it. I’m glad we decided to combine the Christmas parties for our companies. Hell, most of those guys know each other. Your employees drink at my bar and mine work out at your gym, one big happy family as far as I’m concerned. Any problems with closing the gym?”

“Nothing so far, but I’m sure some idiot will complain this coming week. Never mind we started posting notices back in October announcing our holiday hours. I’m certain someone forgot we planned to close between 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. today. We added five days to every active membership to make up for the limited hours on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. And for closing in the middle of the day today and all day on January first. Trust me, there’ll be complaints―I’ll deal with them.”

“Oh well, all part of being the boss. Going back to lunch, the food was excellent! I noticed a couple of my guys, who are fanatical about their eating habits, were stuffing their faces as if they hadn’t had a morsel in weeks.” Matt rubbed his stomach recalling the delicious eats. “And her price was damn good. Where’d you find her?”

“One of my clients gave me the lead. His wife liked her stuff at a charity event and took a card. When I started talking to the caterer, she mentioned she liked the fact we were hiring her for three different shindigs, all within days of each other. Dealing with one client instead of three reduced the stress, according to her. All three events being in such close proximity facilitated her logistics. Plus, she said having a free hand to design most of the fare appealed to the culinary artist in her.

“Wait until you see the menu for your birthday brunch on the twenty-eighth, it’s gonna rock! Your mom will hate not finding pasta and meatballs, but we get enough wop cuisine at her house!”

Matt looked aggrieved at the use of the derogatory word for Italians. “I’ll give you a big wop if you don’t watch your mouth white-bread. On second thought, I’ll give you a big wop later on anyway. And, if you don’t start calling her Mama as she asked, you’re gonna be in a heap of trouble. Don’t come crying to me if she takes one of her wooden spoons to you. I grew up with those things smacking me all the time. It’s not a pleasant experience. Been there, done that, learned my lesson. Now I run in the opposite direction if I see her grab one of those damn things.”

“My mom used to chase after us with one of her pie rolling pins. I’ll take the spoon any time.”

“Are you going to miss not being in Iowa for Christmas?”

“Haven’t done it in the last three so I’ll be ok. Mom and Dad promised we would celebrate here in Chicago next year. Get ready to play tourist guide!” Jordan groaned and smiled simultaneously. “She’s already started a list of all the things she wants to see.”

“Nah, we’ll put both mothers in the kitchen. Yours will bake and mine will make meatballs.” Matt snorted and the tremors traveled through Jordy’s body making him close his eyes in pleasure. “I sure hope they all get along when they meet!”

“How can they not? My folks loved you when we flew out there for my birthday. Yours keep trying to shove as much food as they can down my throat because I’m too skinny. I spend an extra hour on the treadmill every time your family has a gathering.”

“Lean over and give me a kiss, babe. I’m experiencing withdrawals. By the way, I’m so damn glad you didn’t subdivide this space when you bought it. It’s like we have a fancy penthouse in a building―not so far off since it’s the top floor and the other three were each turned into two units. All the extra room will come in handy when we feed the masses.”

“That’s about the same thing your brother said when he and the catering boy opened up all the pocket doors.”

“Catering boy?”

“Yeah, this real sexy, real cute stud. The man’s in great shape, has a furry chest, a fuzzy chin, and a fantastic smile. He’s the caterer’s set-up person. Didn’t you meet him at lunch today?”

“Nope. Can’t recall meeting anyone fitting that description. But do tell how you know about the furry chest. Were you checking out another guy?”

“Of course I was! I need my cheap thrills now and then.” It was Jordy’s turn to chuckle while Matt frowned. “He and your bro both took off their t-shirts when moving around the rental tables and chairs, guess they got a little warm. When Catering Boy saw Younger Brother without a shirt, I thought his eyes were gonna jump out of their sockets. The guy did everything but drool.”

“How did my brother react? Did he look like he minded? Hell, did he even notice? Most of the time he’s unaware of the looks he gets.”

“You nailed it! Your brother was his usual self―oblivious to the effect he has on other people. I love that kid. He treats gay men the same he does his straight jock buddies.”

“Isn’t that the way it should be?”

“Of course it is. But we both know your brother’s part of a more accepting generation. There are still plenty of bigoted asses out there. Changing the subject, what time do you want to head over to the bar tomorrow night?”

“Around nine? I wanted to open then, but some of the staff thought they could take in some good money by opening for Happy Hour. Our two managers are splitting the night. I won’t have to work at all. We can just hang with our boys and have a good time.”

“Sounds good. I invited Troy to join us. Told him drinks would be on the house. He’s a nice kid, and I thought we could introduce him around to some of the guys.”

“That’ll be a nice Christmas present for him. Is he working our brunch here tomorrow?”

“Yup. Make sure you talk to him. He’s also working your birthday so he’ll get to meet some more people.”

“You really liked this guy didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s new to Chicago, doesn’t have a lot of friends, and works all the time. Reminds me of a cuddly lost puppy that you want to adopt. But in this case, I just want to find him a good home!”

“You and your matchmaking, you should run a dating service instead of a gym―although there’s plenty of hooking up at that joint of yours. Always trying to help others find a little happiness. One of the many things I love about you.”

“Get this, the kid’s last name’s Breedlove! Is that perfect for a gay man or what?”

Matteo’s jaw dropped and his eyes shot wide open. “You gotta be shitting me.”

“Nope, his dad’s some big-shot General in the Air Force. Troy just graduated college and moved here this past summer. He had some funny stories about changing schools all the time and the military bases he lived on.”

“I’ll make sure I talk to him.” Matt stood and offered his hand to Jordy. “Come on, let’s go to bed, I need some snuggle time.”

“HELLOOO, who do I have to blow to get a cocktail around here?” The disembodied voice floated into the apartment’s master bedroom as if from a far-off place.

Jordan lurched upright in bed. “What the fuck? Matt, wake up! There’s someone out in the living room!”

“Huh?” Matteo stirred without opening his eyes.

“Come on, Matty. There’s some guy out in the living room asking for a cocktail!”

“HUH?” The Italian stud was louder but his eyes remained closed.

Jordan decided a more forceful approach was in order. “Matt! Wake up, shut up, and obey! Out of bed now! Follow me…”

“O M F G! Would you look at that? Jordan Nichols and Matteo Ferrari in all their glory. Nice bits boys. I may have to come back at some point for a more social visit. Damn! You studs are both hung! Yummy!”

Jordan stood mouth agape staring at the intruder. “Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing inside our place? How’d you get in anyway?”

“Duh! I’m Santa and I climbed down the chimney tonight. Jordy, you can be such a blond! Matt, babe, how about that cocktail? Maybe a little warm milk with a shot or three of that brandy you guys were sipping earlier? You’re the bar owner. I’m certain you can figure it out.”

“Huh?”

“Girlfriend, good thing you’re pretty ‘cause you sure as hell don’t sound as smart as the reports claim.” The creature claiming to be Santa focused his attention on Matteo. “Cocktail, princess?”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are but stop picking on my man, I’m the only one allowed to do that.”

“Uh yeah? You gonna get all possessive over my ass, farmer boy?” The muscular man’s eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. “Those DNA injections your Italian stud’s been giving you must be working. You’re sounding more and more like a wise guy all the time.”

“You may as well cut out the camp, buddy, you can’t pull it off―too butch for your own good. And this thing about you being Santa? Ain’t buying it. Santa’s fat, has white hair, and wears a thick, warm outfit. You’re buff as hell and the hair on your body, face, and head’s as dark as midnight. And dude, your outfit? You’re standing in the middle of our living room wearing boots, a red speedo with black leather trim, black leather wristbands, and a matching armband around your right bicep. The expectations and the visuals are a bit contradictory. What gives?”

“Fine, you’re no fun.” The man accepted the oversized mug handed to him. “Oh, bless you, Matt, it’s perfect! Is that a hint of nutmeg? Anywho, as I was about to say, I’m an official Santa assistant. There are several of us. Each one assigned to certain groups old man Claus’ fond of. I’m in charge of the gay crowd in North America. Mostly in the gayttos― Chelsea, South Beach, West Hollywood, Wilton Manors, the Castro… My job’s to visit a person or couple in each of those places on Christmas Eve. I make myself known and grant the lucky fucker, or fuckers, one special wish for Christmas. Within reason, of course.

“So, TA-DAH! You boys are it for the Windy City this year. We weren’t quite sure until you pulled off that great move at the last minute. Asking all your friends and family not to buy you presents. Requesting they instead contribute to the Greater Chicago Food Depository in support of their food rescue program was inspired. Honestly boys, I really liked that.”

“Muscle Bear Santa is right, babe, this is good.” Jordy sipped from the mug his partner handed him and smacked his lips in appreciation. “That request was just our way of paying forward our good fortune, Santa. Now, let’s say we buy your story so far, how do you get around? Are there like gay reindeer pulling your convertible Mini Cooper?”

“Don’t be silly, Jordy. Gay reindeer? Please! I fly, of course. After all, I am a fairy!”

“Listen Santa, we need to cut this visit short. Jordy and I had a long day and we have a longer one tomorrow. What’s the deal Muscle Bear? What do we have to do, like write you a letter or something asking for a special gift?”

“Or something, Matt… You can sit on my lap and whisper your request―”

“Fat chance buddy, I ain’t letting my man anywhere near that obscene bulge of yours!” Jordan was adamant his partner would not go near the hairy mound of muscles.

“―or you can close your eyes, click your heels―no, wait, that ain’t right. Just get your fucking asses over here one at a time and whisper what you want in my ear. If you’ve been good this year, in the morning you’ll find your wish’s been granted. If you’ve been naughty, you may just find me under the covers with you…”

“Morning, Jordy. Boy did I have a weird dream last night! Wait until you hear about it.”

“Uh, babe? I don’t think that was a dream. Check out the big red bow on the headboard.”

Matt’s mouth hung open when he noticed what Jordy was pointing at. “You mean we had a drink with a hunky Santa wanna-be and he promised to grant us a special wish?”

“Yup. Reach over and grab the gift card hanging from the bow. Come on sleepyhead, read it already.”

“Gee, what a surprise, it’s addressed to us―”

Hey fellas-

Came back and you boys looked adorable, sleeping all wrapped around each other. Couldn’t tell who was who or how the bits fit together. Decided to place the bow on the headboard since you both wanted the same thing. All you asked for Christmas was each other.

Love,

Muscle Bear Santa

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

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