by E. F. Mulder
“Hey!” Gideon popped his head out from beneath the duvet, a blanket, and a sheet with a thread count higher than the balance on his credit card. “I never bite.”
“Oh. Was it too hard?”
Gideon approximated it. “Was that?”
“I’m gonna come if you do it again.”
In virtually the same position, one right side up, one upside down, they both came in one another’s mouth. After sharing a kiss that tasted of himself and also Rudy back up at the headboard, Gideon snuggled in. “Good night, and Merry Christmas…”
“Merry Mismatch Day. Sleep tight. You, too, Priscilla.”
“Sweet dreams, little ones.” Gideon stared out the large window with gauzy drapes into the moonlight. “Only good ones, my angels and my fishy.”
“Do fish sleep?” Rudy whispered.
Gideon smiled. “Sort of. They rest a couple times a day…hovering over one spot. She seems to like the little plant I got her last year.”
“Ah. Nice. I wonder if she’d like some brothers and sisters.”
“Maybe. We’ll have to…”
Before Gideon finished, Rudy was snoring.
* * * *
The first one asleep, Rudy was also up before Gideon the next morning, in the kitchen making French toast when Gideon entered. “Wow!” They’d showered together, but had dressed separately, to surprise one another in their Mismatch Day attire. “You do play to win,” Gideon said.
“You didn’t do too poorly yourself. Though it took you long enough.”
Gideon had chosen all plaids. With gray, black, and white fleece pajama pants, he’d paired a brown, orange, and burgundy plaid shirt, over which he’d added a yellow and black buffalo plaid robe. Completing his look were purple and lime argyle socks, with a Burberry slipper on the left foot and one of Frank Funn’s shoes on the right. “I was trying on shoes. A lot of shoes. Then I got a hard-on.”
“Nice.” Because of Rudy’s wide smile, when they kissed, they bumped teeth. “Well, you did a good job,” he said, “but I decided to think outside the box. I’m pretty sure I’m going to win.”
The rivalry continued. Rudy hadn’t really gone with mismatched colors so much as mismatched styles. He wore tails fit for a fancy ball, with a Hawaiian shirt and a bolo tie beneath. On his bottom half he’d chosen to wear a pair of tennis shorts—not white, but pink. One foot had the other special auction shoe. “Is it okay I borrowed one?”
“Of course.”
With that shoe, he’d paired one of the black Christmas tree socks he had worn to the bar the night he and Gideon had met over one year ago. On the other he’d slipped into a cowboy boot in red. The different shoes made him walk funny. Gideon could hardly hold back his laugh when Rudy came over to kiss him. They also turned him on so much, he could hardly hold down his stiffening cock.
“Brett can’t—”
The doorbell rang, followed by a rather raucous knock.
“What the…?” Rudy headed for the living room. “Brett can’t pick the winner. I’ve been thinking about it. He still likes you better.”
“Nah. You make me happy, that earned you major points. But…if you’re really worried, we’ll find someone impartial to pick this year’s mismatch champ.”
The verdict came the moment Rudy opened the door. “Neither one of you.”
“Dash!”
“Check this out.” He dropped his duffle bag, then removed a long overcoat to reveal a pair of white boxers covered in hearts over Santa pants, with a Halloween jack-o-lantern get up as the shirt. It was round, made out of some sort of stiff orange fabric with black triangles for its eyes and a nose, plus a crooked smile in the same color felt. He’d also put furry white bunny ears on his head, but that wasn’t all. “Hold up.” The pièce de résistance was a pilgrim hat with slots for the ears. “I think we can agree. I win.”
“Dash.” That was all Rudy could say.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Come here.” Dash threw his arms around Rudy. “I was so pissed at you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, moron. I am. Dad told us you flaked yesterday, because of business, as always.” Dash had said the word with such distain, two of them, actually, “Dad” and “business.” He grunted, hugging his brother harder. “Only late last night did Mom tell me the truth.”
“Oh.”
“I should have come right then. I practically did. Took me a while to get here, of course. Anyway, I probably should have called, but I wanted to surprise you.” Dash paced a little, just inside the door as he chattered away. “I didn’t really know what to do. Mom and Dad were having this awkward silent argument back and forth all through dinner. Dad…I should have known.”
“I don’t want to come between the two of you,” Rudy said.
“Bro, if I have to make a choice, it’s easy—and it’s on him, not you. I bet Mom drives down before the day’s over. She feels bad for not telling me what really happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare be, Rufus. I bet a lot of people show up later. Some of the cuzzes, too.”
“To join in the reindeer games.”
Dash stepped back and looked Gideon over. “Good one. And nice job on the threads, especially for your first time. Nice ring. I’m the boot sometimes.”
“Your brother proposed last night.” Gideon said.
“So, I didn’t miss my chance to be best man?”
Rudy smiled. “No.”
“Good to know. I plan on hanging out here a lot. Viva Las Vegas and all that. I hear it’s really close. I might even apply to UNLV. You up for that, Gideon? I don’t want to be a pest.”
A little brother underfoot? “Yes.” Gideon loved the idea. “We’ll take you over tomorrow…or even tonight.”
“Sweet! Now…who do we get to judge this contest, because I haven’t won since the year you painted my long johns. I’m due, and beating you will make it even better.”
“No way, bro. Without the girls, it’s my turn.”
“I might be a rookie, but I think I have a chance,” Gideon said.
“You should remember from the first night we met, I don’t give up easily,” Rudy told Gideon, his smile so big his cheeks had to hurt.
“If I remember it right,” Gideon teased, “you did, forty-five minutes after I chained you to the bar.”
“There’s a story I have to hear.” Dash plopped down on the couch. “Nice digs, bro. I can’t believe I’ve never been here. I might never leave.”
“That would be okay with me,” Rudy said.
It would be okay with Gideon, too.
THE END
ABOUT E.F. MULDER
E.F. and her writing partner, David Connor, have always been soap opera fans. Living in a small New York town, they both turned their love of the genre to books and short stories with romantic, soap opera-ish themes. Nothing beats a cliffhanger, a twist, a good mystery, and maybe an evil twin.
For more information, visit facebook.com/mmromcomsinprint.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
