Santa Vic

by Snyder, J. M.

  Santa Vic

  By J.M. Snyder

  Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2011 J.M. Snyder

  ISBN 9781611522211

  For more titles by J.M. Snyder at Smashwords visit https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jmsnyder

  * * * *

  Cover Credits: csakisti

  Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  Cover Design: J.M. Snyder

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  NOTE: Though this story doesn’t go into detail about the special relationship shared between Vic and Matt, readers can learn more them online at vic-and-matt.com.

  * * * *

  Santa Vic

  By J.M. Snyder

  The last thing city bus driver Vic Braunson wanted to see on his locker when he returned to the depot after a double shift was a Post-It with a note to stop by the boss’s office before he left for the night. It was already late—Vic’s usual shift ran from noon until eight in the evening, and with the holidays approaching, he had to pick up a second route. He’d clocked in a little after ten that morning, and didn’t drive back into the bus garage until almost midnight. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall out in his bed for a good twelve hours, but he had to be back into work early the next morning. He didn’t have time to stop by the boss’s office. More importantly, he didn’t want to. How many more hours could he possibly be expected to work?

  But the money was a good incentive—his lover Matt diLorenzo had been talking about house hunting for the past few months, and all the overtime Vic was putting in would allow them to make a sizable down payment if they decided to take the plunge. Plus there was the expensive matching ring set Matt picked out for them that still needed to be paid off. As Vic pulled his heavy winter coat out of his locker, the white gold ring on his left hand caught the overhead light and winked at him almost conspiratorially. Soon, that flash of brilliance seemed to promise. Matty’s waiting up for you, so go see what Mr. Morrison wants and call it a night. The thought of curling up beside his lover in the bed they shared only encouraged him to cut short any meeting with the boss.

  Slamming his locker shut, Vic spun the combination lock and tore the Post-It off the door. Then he headed for the time clock. But instead of stopping, he walked right by it—if Morrison wanted to eat into Vic’s personal time, Vic sure as hell wanted to be paid for it. He’d clock out after stopping by the bossman’s office.

  Morrison’s door was ajar, the light on inside the room. Vic knocked and eased the door open enough to duck his head around it. Morrison sat hunched over a stack of paperwork, elbows on the desk in front of him, the heels of his hands pressed hard against his closed eyes. His thin glasses sat to one side, discarded. A lit cigarette was pinched between the first two fingers of his right hand, an inch of ash dangling from its tip, dangerously close to breaking off onto Morrison’s balding pate.

  Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Vic asked, “You wanted to see me?”

  His voice sounded gruff to his own ears, but it had been a long day. From the look of things, Morrison felt just as worn out and used as Vic did himself. Make this quick, Vic prayed, his thoughts straying to Matty, already home and waiting for him. I have someone waiting on me to get home sometime tonight.

  Slowly Morrison stirred. He rubbed his eyes, then lowered his hands to the desk. The cigarette ash crumbled onto the stack of papers but Morrison negligently brushed it to the floor. “Braunson,” he growled.

  Sounds like I feel, Vic thought. Taking another step into the office, Vic held up the Post-It as if to remind his boss this little visit wasn’t his idea. “It says to stop by on my way out.”

  “Come in, come in,” Morrison said with a wave of his hand.

  Vic felt his temper begin to simmer. “No disrespect, sir, but I need to get home…”

  “I’ll make this real quick,” Morrison promised.

  Distrustful, Vic came into the office and closed the door partway behind him. He heard something rustle behind the door—plastic, from the sound of it, like one of those dry cleaning bags the company laundry service used to return uniforms in. Vic kept his gaze focused on Morrison, though. He wasn’t here to sightsee. He’d had enough of work for one day and was ready to head out. Every second spent here in the boss’s office was one more second away from his lover.

  For a long moment, Morrison considered Vic. Dread filled him—what the hell was this all about? And so close to the holidays? Vic was putting in the overtime now to avoid having to work a few days at Christmas. He’d been with the bus company for so long, he had seniority over most of the other drivers. But because he didn’t have kids or a wife, none of the other guys seemed bothered about asking him to switch. Before Matt came into his life, Vic took the extra shifts willingly enough, but now he had someone to celebrate the holidays with, and the way Matt treated their spoiled mutt Sadie, she was practically a surrogate child. Vic knew half the presents Matt stuck under their tree were for the damn dog. He couldn’t work any more than he already was. He wouldn’t.

  But maybe that wasn’t what Morrison wanted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, where an imprint of his glasses lingered, Morrison asked, “Remember a few years back when you helped out with the Christmas party?”

  Vic groaned. Every year, the company threw a party for its employees the Saturday before Christmas. They spared no expense—glazed hams and roasted turkey were carved to order, and all the traditional side dishes were there, cornbread stuffing and cranberry sauce and sweet potato casseroles. Wine and beer poured freely, and holiday classics played over the loudspeaker. Employees brought their families, and the kids vied for a spot in line to sit on Santa’s lap.

  A few years back, the guy usually hired to play Santa fell through, and Morrison asked Vic to step in. It’d been fun, he couldn’t deny it, but it wasn’t exactly something Vic wanted to do again. With his muscled physique, multiple piercings, and penchant for tattoos, he thought he made a pretty scary Santa, though no one else seemed to mind. And it got him a whole week off at the holiday, for helping Morrison out of a bind.

  Somehow Vic suspected he wouldn’t be quite so lucky this time.

  “You want me to dress up this year, too,” Vic muttered.

  It wasn’t a question, but Morrison nodded anyway. “You fit the suit,” he pointed out. “The kids loved you. Hell, don’t tell me it wasn’t a blast.”

  Vic pressed his lips together until they almost disappeared to keep from saying something he might regret…like ‘no.’ This was his boss, and if Morrison wanted him to play Santa, Vic would dress up like that jolly old elf or risk his job. It wasn’t that hard a decision to make, really.

  But Morrison pretended as i
f Vic had a choice. “Could you maybe do it again?” he asked, giving Vic the same hound-dog expression Sadie used on Matt whenever she wanted a treat. “It’s just one night, you know? I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll double your Christmas bonus, how’s that?”

  Actually, that sounded pretty sweet. Given Vic’s tenure with the company, his bonus was already a nice chunk of change, and to double it…put that into savings, and he and Matt might have to start getting serious about buying a house.

  “What do you say?” Morrison asked.

  “Double my usual bonus?” Vic wanted to clarify.

  Morrison nodded. “The party’s Saturday. How about it?”

  Vic shrugged. “All right. When should I pick up the suit?”

  “Right now.” Morrison nodded past Vic, who turned and saw the familiar red suit trimmed with white fur hanging in a plastic dry cleaning bag behind the office door. “You know, I think red’s your color.”

  Vic groaned as he reached for the bag. Think about the bonus money, he reminded himself. A nice little house, a yard for the dog…Matt will be happy.

  And when Matt was happy, Vic was happy. Even if he had to dress up as ol’ Kris Kringle in the process.

  * * * *

  When Vic walked in the door of the apartment he shared with his lover, he could smell the rich scent of homemade marinara sauce bubbling away in the kitchen. Matt made a killer spaghetti—Vic’s stomach rumbled as if on cue, surprising him. Up until that moment, he would’ve argued that he was more tired than hungry, but Matt’s cooking proved him wrong.

  Matt popped his head around the corner to grin at Vic. “Hope you’re starving!”

  Sweat glistened on his tanned face, and his black curls had been pushed off his forehead so often since he began cooking, they now stood up from his scalp like the teased bangs of a teenage girl. His bright green eyes lit up when he looked at Vic, then he disappeared into the kitchen again.

  Vic heard a spoon clatter to the counter as he started to shrug out of his heavy winter coat. “For you,” he admitted. Of course, a plate piled high with spaghetti wouldn’t hurt, either.

  With any luck, Vic could get the Santa suit out of sight before Matt commented on it. He could just imagine what snide remarks his lover would have about the damn suit. Opening the door to the hall closet, he managed to get his coat put away and was just about to hang the Santa suit on the rack beside it when warm arms eased around his waist and a welcome weight settled against his back. Matt gave Vic a fierce bear hug, his head resting between Vic’s shoulder blades. “Missed you, big fella,” he murmured into Vic’s work shirt.

  Vic wrapped one arm around his stomach, catching Matt’s hands in a makeshift embrace. Turning his head, he blew Matt a quick kiss. “It’s good to be home.”

  “That’s not going to fly, and you know it.” Though Matt had a slighter build than Vic—he spend his days as a swim instructor at the gym’s pool, whereas Vic’s workout of choice was in the weight room—he easily bent the larger man to his will. Now he turned Vic around, tugging on the front of Vic’s work shirt until Vic obliged, and raised his hands to cradle Vic’s face as he leaned in to claim a real kiss.

  Though they’d seen each other earlier in the day, when Vic stopped by the gym to lift a few weights before heading into work, they kissed as if they’d been apart for years. Matt’s open mouth covered Vic’s, kissing his upper lip first, then the bottom, then pulling back just slightly before delving in for more. He nibbled Vic’s full lower lip a moment, then chased the little bite marks away with his tongue. Then he licked into Vic’s mouth, giving Vic a heady taste of Italian spices still lingering after the last sample he’d had of the spaghetti sauce on the stove. His tongue, warm and pliant, ran itself behind Vic’s teeth, over the ticklish spot on the roof of his mouth, along the ridges and valleys of Vic’s molars.

  The kiss was a visceral experience Vic felt in every fiber of his being, from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his feet and everywhere in between. His knees weakened from the kiss, his stomach fluttered, and his hands lost interest in holding onto anything that wasn’t this man before him, this, his Matty. The Santa suit dropped to the floor in a rush of fabric and plastic, a near-silent whoosh Vic ignored as Matt’s kiss deepened. He gripped Matt’s elbows instead, pulling his lover into the span of his arms and wrapped him in a tender embrace.

  Oh yeah, he was starving, all right. For this.

  Who knew how long they’d stay like that, lips locked, bodies intertwined? Hours, perhaps, or until the spaghetti sauce boiled over enough to hiss on the stove’s burners. Fortunately, they were interrupted well before then by a large, golden mutt who, realizing Vic was home from work, came bounding around the corner and down the hall to plow right into them.

  Matt pulled away from Vic and sank to his knees in front of Sadie. “Who’s a good girl?” he cooed, scratching behind both her ears. She ate it up, wagging her tail so hard, her hindquarters seemed to wag, too. “You’s a good girl, isn’t she? Isn’t she?”

  The singsong baby talk always made Vic roll his eyes. He patted the dog on the top of her head, a less ostentatious show of affection that still earned him a wet nose in his palm and a lick along the back of his hand. Sternly, he asked, “She wasn’t sleeping on our bed, was she?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt hedged, which Vic knew meant yes. “I was in the kitchen.”

  “We have to be consistent,” Vic reminded him. “She’s going to get confused if I tell her no and you just say what the hell, go ahead.”

  Grinning up at him, Matt pointed out, “She’s not confused. She knows enough to get down when you’re home, doesn’t she?”

  Vic groaned. It was a losing battle and he knew it. At least with a home, Sadie would have a doghouse out in the yard…and chances were, she’d still sleep in the house. Matt let that dog run all over him.

  Much the same way he runs all over me, Vic reminded himself. As long as he didn’t actually see the dog on his bed, he could pretend she hadn’t been sleeping there in the first place.

  Matt turned his head slightly, glancing behind Vic at the crumpled Santa suit lying in a heap on the floor. “What’s that?”

  “What’s it look like?” Vic stooped to retrieve the suit, picking it up by the hanger and shoving it unceremoniously into the thicket of coats in their closet.

  A tease crept into Matt’s voice. “It looks like someone’s trying to kiss up to his boss.”

  “Getting asked to dress up as Santa for Christmas isn’t kissing up,” Vic said. He closed the closet door and leaned back against it, smiling down at his lover and their dog. “Saying yes was kissing up.”

  Matt knew Vic wasn’t the type to actually admit to enjoying something as social as a company-sponsored dinner. “You could’ve said no.”

  With a grunt, Vic reminded him, “To my boss? Yeah, right. Like you’d tell Roxie no if she asked you to do anything.”

  Matt stretched as he stood. “For one thing, Roxie isn’t my boss. She’s just the receptionist.”

  “Try telling her that.” Vic liked Roxie—she ran the front counter of the gym where Matt worked, and Vic saw her almost daily. But she had a strong will and a quick temper, and Vic suspected his lover was more than a little scared of getting on her bad side.

  “For another thing,” Matt said, closing the distance between them to press his chest against Vic’s, “I’m not stupid enough to tell that woman no. I like my balls right where they are, thank you very much.”

  Vic slid a hand between them and lightly goosed the slight bulge at his lover’s crotch. “I wouldn’t want them anywhere else. Tell her hands off. These are mine.”

  The sexy smile Matt turned his way trilled through Vic’s veins. “Would you like them now?”

  “How about some spaghetti first?” Vic asked, a little sheepish. “I really am pretty hungry.”

  Matt laughed and kissed the tip of Vic’s nose. “Food first, then sex. How’s that sound?”

  “I love
the menu here,” Vic joked as Matt took his hand and led him into the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Saturday afternoon found Vic struggling into a pair of long johns to wear under the Santa pants. The outfit itself wasn’t very warm—the flannel was too thin, the pants too baggy, the jacket too large to hold in any body heat. So Vic donned thermal underwear and an undershirt before pulling on the pants. He stuffed a pillow into the waistband before cinching the belt to give himself the girth needed to pull off a classic Santa. He studied himself in the mirror. “I look stupid.”

  “You’re the sexiest Santa Claus I’ve ever seen,” Matt assured him.

  Vic glanced at his lover in the mirror’s reflection. Matt’s dark hair was still damp from his shower, the curls beginning to spring back to frame his face. He wore a pair of black corduroy pants and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater that clung to his chest and arms nicely. “You look sexy,” Vic said, stating the obvious. “I look like an overgrown elf with a glandular problem.”

  “Put on the hat,” Matt joked. “Then you’ll be fat and old.”

  But Vic wasn’t about to do that. Earlier in the week, he’d taken the hat out of the bag to make sure there was a wig attached to it—Vic had never seen a bald Santa and didn’t want to be scrambling to find a white-haired wig just before the dinner. Sure enough, the Santa hat had a wig, and a fluffy white beard to boot. At Matt’s urging Vic had put it on, but when Sadie saw him, she cowered under the dining room table and couldn’t be coaxed out until Vic took it off again. She didn’t like the hat, for whatever reason. Secretly, Vic agreed with her. He’d wait to put it on until he absolutely had to.

  Instead, he shrugged into the red coat and pulled the lapels closed around his pillowed stomach. From her spot on the floor, Sadie watched him with her head on her paws, as if waiting for him to leave the room so she could hop up on the bed. In the mirror, Vic saw Matt sink down to sit on the mattress as he pulled on a pair of black trouser socks. Under his breath, Vic gave an experimental, “Ho ho ho.”