His Christmas Magic

by Drea Roman

  “You needed a new one of these, didn’t you? I heard you say you lost your last one at a house fire.”

  Mouth hanging open in a ridiculously unattractive gap, I stare at him, gobsmacked. “That happened last month, and I certainly didn’t tell you about it.”

  Tuck shrugs his right shoulder, looking for all the world like a cavalier teenager who just outmaneuvered ‘the man.’ “Must have heard it in your dreams.”

  “In my dreams? Don’t you mean your dreams?”

  Tuck shakes his head without a wince or any apparent pain. “No, I heard it in your dreams. And you have certainly been a good boy.”

  That effectively shuts me up, at least for a moment. Until my mind starts to wake up. “What do you mean you ‘snapped your fingers?’”

  He shrugs again. “I wished to be healed and snapped my fingers. Then I woke up and everything was back to normal.” He frowns a moment. “Except for my memory. But I’m not too worried about that. I am here with my mate, and that is all that matters in the world to me.”

  When all I can do is stare up at my tiny mate, with his blond hair disheveled from sleep and his bright blue eyes seeming to glow in our dark bedroom, he smiles and pecks me on the cheek. Tuck scoots around, untangling himself from the covers, and comes to sit by my hip on his knees, his legs folded up under him. “Now that I am fully healed, I do believe we should mate with each other. What do you say, Mr. Wolf? Are you ready to be mine forever?”

  My heart soars at his words, and my wolf claws at me to claim him. But I am afraid.

  “Are you afraid of hurting me?” Tuck asks quietly as he begins to slowly peel back the covers from my body. Once again, he is hearing my thoughts, but at this moment, I cannot muster the desire to interrupt his stripping down of my body to ask questions. When he reveals my bare chest, he runs his fingers through the light hair there, before he rises to throw his formerly injured leg over me to straddle my hips.

  “You are a seducing little minx, aren’t you?” I somehow say through my throat so clogged with emotion, love, excitement, and even fear.

  “Who knows? Perhaps mating you and taking your big, fat knot will jar a few memories loose and help me remember everything.”

  I cannot help but laugh at my magical mate. Every new day shows me my mate is most definitely magic. “How do you know about wolves and our big, fat knots?”

  Tuck hums as he leans over me to kiss me slowly, deeply. “Werewolf fan fiction,” he says against my mouth, and I have completely lost the entire thread of the conversation. But I do not care. Finally free to touch him, I slide my hands along his very naked thighs up to his diminutive hips. Wasn’t he wearing pajama bottoms when we went to bed? Oh, God, he fits so perfectly in the palms of my hands.

  “Why are you wearing so many clothes, my love? What sexy wolf man in the prime of his life wears boxers to bed?” He clicks his tongue at me as he rises up and shimmies out of my grasp and down my body, apparently to take care of the offending boxer shorts. Hooking his fingers in the waistband, he yanks them down, causing my hardening dick to pop up and slap against my lower abs.

  “Umm,” Tuck moans, doing away with my boxers before crawling back up to lick my cock from base to tip. He makes no preamble as he licks me up and down in long strokes, covering all sides systematically, before drawing the head into his mouth to suck on it like a lollipop.

  I cannot reach him in my current position, so I sit up, pulling pillows behind me to better prop me up. Tuck continues teasing my head, but he glances up at me to wink, as if inviting me to either enjoy the slow torture or take control. I could pull him off my dick, roll him on his stomach, and feast on the candy cane-flavored slick I can now smell as it trickles out of his ass. But I would much rather have my tiny mate in control of me. As if hearing my thoughts, he smirks around my dick, as much as anyone can smirk while sucking on a cock, and reaches behind himself. Besides the times I helped him to the bathroom, this is the first time I am getting a full view of my mate’s body. He is small and thin, with light muscles like a runner.

  Tuck moans deeper, and I realize he has thrust a finger into himself, only to pull it out and bring it up toward my mouth. I lean forward and suck his finger down at the same moment he sucks down my entire cock. Magic zaps through my entire body, most intense in my cock where my mate sucks it and on my tongue where I taste my mate’s slick for the first time. Magic or heaven, I’m not quite sure which, but I feel caught in the most decadent feedback loop of pleasure I have ever known.

  And Tuck tastes heavenly, like the freshest peppermint candy cane ever made. From the sounds he is making, he is enjoying tasting me, too. After a few more bobs of his tight, warm mouth, my legs are trembling, and I am whimpering like a lost pup. Oh, but I would be lost, if not for him. Tuck pops off of me with one more long, slow suck that has my hands clenching in the sheets.

  “How do you want this, my love?” Tuck asks as he climbs up my body, settling himself on my belly so he fits my cock snugly against his ass. I gasp as I feel his slick trickle down and pool at the base of my hard dick.

  My voice is hoarse and my throat dry from want. “My wolf wants to take you from behind, but I want to watch you take my cock and ride us to heaven.”

  He offers a wicked grin. “Hmm. . . I’m not sure about heaven. But let’s just see how close we can get.” Tuck rises up on his knees, positioning himself above my rigid dick, grasping it firmly as his slick drips down, lubricating it. I want to cry out, the feelings inside and outside too much as the heavy peppermint scent perfumes the air.

  “Wait.” My mate stills, but does not move from his erotic position, naked, straddling my hips, as he leans forward on his knees, one hand on my cock, the other hand holding himself open with two fingers inside his hole.

  “Yes?” he asks gently, though I can see in his bright eyes that he is as overwhelmed with lust as I am. But I want—no, need—for this moment to mean more.

  “I love you, Tuck.”

  He smiles and pushes the head of my cock into himself, his slick easing the way as his own fingers slip out so he can clutch my hips with both hands. He throws back his head as he moans, his body sliding onto mine so slowly. Then his ass meets my hips, and he raises his head up to smile at me. “I love you, Darren.”

  Tilting forward, I grab his hips and hold him to me, grinding my hips in a circle in search of his prostate. It is obvious when I find it because Tuck shivers in my hands and leans forward to kiss me hard. We fall into sync, Tuck rising and falling onto me as I hang onto to his hips as if they are my lifeline. Our kisses are deep, but quickly turn frantic, Tuck nipping at my lips so hard I feel the sting.

  Needing him closer, I slip my arms around his back and bring up my knees, which incites an excited yelp from my mate, who begins to slam down on me harder.

  “Oh, yes, Darren.” One of his hands leaves my hips to thread through my hair, pulling me so tightly to him. Suddenly, he winds his hands through my shoulder-length locks and yanks my head back. His eyes glow fiercely, unearthly blue, like magical ice. A tingling sensation runs through my body as his other hand comes up to rest against my rapidly beating pulse. Heat seeps into me from the points of contact the pads of his fingers make.

  “Mate,” he groans, and energy flows into me from his fingertips, wrapping around and through me, all the way to my soul. My orgasm shoots through me as my fangs lengthen, and I bury them in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, his omega gland. My knot begins to inflate, binding us together as our mate bond snaps into place. Waves of pleasure wash through me as I come inside him, my knot throbbing and growing to fill him. It rubs against his prostate, and Tuck comes in my arms, still thrusting down on my now fully inflated knot.

  Gently, I remove my teeth from his mate mark and lick it clean. It seals into a mating scar almost immediately. I fall back into the pillows, but Tuck rocks back and forth on my knot, whimpering and moaning my name. I bring my knees up to hold him upright as his body clenches and unclenc
hes on mine over and over. I never expected it to be this way. As I watch him, Tuck’s moans become louder, his rocking more frantic as his cock begins to harden again even though he just came.

  “Darren,” he squeaks out, opening his eyes, which glow with even more intensity than before. Shockingly, it feels like I am hardening again inside of him. As if by instinct, I take his cock in my hand and stroke it hard and fast. Tuck appears to reach a new peak, and he cries out, coming again, this time over my hand. Another orgasm rolls through me as he falls forward onto my chest. Leaning forward, I kiss him desperately as the pleasure flows between us, cyclical in nature, finally releasing us with tiny aftershocks, leaving us both twitching and moaning.

  It takes a few moments for my knot to deflate, but covered in cum or not, I refuse to move because my magical mate has fallen asleep with me inside him. As my cock slips out, he burrows further into my chest, and I feel his lips ghost over the mating mark he left on my neck, a mark I will proudly wear my whole life.

  “Yes,” responds my mate, his voice sleepy inside my mind. “Mine, forever.”

  7

  Tuck

  When I wake up the next morning, wrapped around my wolf, I contemplate the one thing that did not heal with the snap of my fingers: my memory. My first thoughts were of the Christmas rush, how many toys were left to organize, the plotting of our midnight route. But as soon as my mind was fully engaged and awake, those thoughts hid from me, somewhere in the recesses of my brain, tantalizingly available but not accessible. It is like they are playing a very annoying game of hide and sneak.

  “Grr.” I growl, rolling over and biting Darren’s bare shoulder in frustration. His eyes open slowly, and he blinks before his gaze focuses on me.

  “Mate,” he growls as his eyes glow with the wolf within, his voice deeper and rougher—not with sleep, but with the voice of his animal.

  “Mate,” I reply, sitting half up in the tangle of covers. My irritation must bleed through my response and possibly through our mate bond. Darren turns to lie on his side with his head cocked like a dog. No, like a wolf.

  “What’s wrong? Nightmares?”

  “No.” I don’t want to be a grump now that I am finally healed, physically at least.

  Darren watches me closely, and I suddenly feel his fingers tickle my ribs, which were once broken, but now healed by magic. My magic. “Then what is it?”

  Sighing, I relish my mate’s hands running across my bare chest, even though it is more comforting than sexual.

  “I still don’t know who I am, Darren. Hints and random details are all that flitter in and out of my mind. My head doesn’t even hurt anymore. I woke up happy, then realized I still don’t know what is really going on. Now I feel frustrated. . . and guilty.”

  “Why guilty?”

  “I have you, my mate, but I feel like I still don’t have all of myself.” I feel a sense of warmth surround my soul. Glancing up at Darren, who smiles at me warmly, I know the love I just received was from him, through our mate bond. While I lie there stunned at its power, Darren pulls me closer into him.

  “What do you know, Tuck? We should start there.”

  “I have magic, I am very petite, and my ears are pointed.” I tick off items on my fingertips and smile when I make tiny sparks. “I make sparks with my fingertips.” Holding them up, I wiggle them at Darren.

  He reaches out hesitantly and brushes my messy bed hair away from my ear. The feeling of his thumb rubbing across the tip sends shivers through my body. “Keep that up and we won’t be getting out of bed anytime soon.”

  Darren inspects first one ear and then the other, with his fingers, then his eyes. His expression is worried and a little confused. “Tuck.” His voice sounds hesitant now. “I can feel the points when I touch your ears through your hair, but when I look, they are average human ears, perfectly rounded.” He leans forward and licks one, igniting shivers of arousal in my body. “Hmm. . . I’m not sure how they feel to my tongue. Maybe I should lick elsewhere for a comparison.” Clearly, at this moment, my mate is more interested in investigating my body than figuring out who I am.

  Since I’m not too worried about that, I shrug and laugh. “It is probably because I don’t know who I am yet. If I don’t know who I am, how can you truly see me?” I smile up at my befuddled mate, who pushes me back down into the covers so he can lick over my mate mark.

  He sighs. “Peppermint candy canes. My favorite candy.”

  I giggle at the feeling of his tongue, which seems flatter than a human’s, more like a wolf’s. “Your very favorite?”

  “Yes, my tasty little magical mate.” Darren convinces me through his touches across my body and his growing presence in my mind that it doesn’t matter who or what I am, as long as I am his mate.

  When Darren has finished his very thorough “lick and kiss” inspection, we need a shower and some breakfast. My energy is high, even without the coffee Darren seems to rely on. He eyes me over his second steaming cup.

  “Would you like to go get the Christmas tree this morning? It just occurred to me that the place will be empty if we go while everyone else is at the Christmas fair.”

  “Yes! I want a Christmas tree!” Darren chuckles at my glee as I clap my hands and wiggle in my chair at the kitchen table.

  “Then we can check out the stalls of the Christmas festival. One of my favorites is the stall for Sweet Bites, this fantastic crepe place run by a reindeer shifter and his mate.”

  “Reindeer shifter?” Recognition pings through my mind but disappears just as quickly as I realize I have nothing to wear since I have been living in borrowed clothes and Darren’s far too big for me pajama pants since I arrived. Wait, my suit!

  “But first, I want to put on my suit. Is it still in the closet?” I am so happy to be reunited with my favorite outfit.

  Darren retrieves my clothing, which have clearly been laundered. He lays them out on the table and sets the boots by my feet. “Are you sure this is going to be warm enough?”

  I nod my head emphatically, unable to take my eyes off my shoes, tears welling in them at my joy.

  “These are my favorite shoes,” I whisper to Darren as I bend down to pet them lovingly, purposefully jingling the bell attached to the curved tip, the white fur not only lining the top like a collar, but extending down into the shoe as lining.

  It must be a rabbit fur. Darren’s voice is a new addition to my head, but I reply just the same.

  “Angora.” Darren looks at me suspiciously, as if shocked I heard the question that never left his head. “Mate, remember?” I wink at him, and he smiles.

  It is as if the entire world has smiled on me. Joy bursts through my soul, and I jump up, hugging Darren to me tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I chant as I kiss all over his handsome face.

  When I let him catch a breath, he looks down at me, amused. “What did I do to warrant that? Not that I’m complaining.”

  I squeeze him one more time before grabbing my coat, shirt, pants, and shoes and rushing off to the bathroom. When I look at myself in the mirror, I am the very picture of an elf. My coat is light green with gold stitching around the embossed buttons with more angora fur lining the inside, the collar, and the cuffs of the jacket. The back is long, to mid-thigh, but the front halves curve up, meeting at the gold belt buckle at my waist. My hat is a long stocking, hanging over my shoulder, trimmed with the same fur and topped with a white fur pom. The pants look like tights but are actually tightly woven white angora fur, sealed with something I cannot recall.

  The feeling of recognition is strong, and I send a little prayer to good Saint Nick that my memory is returning. I am rewarded with a deep chuckle in my mind, and I laugh with glee.

  It takes Darren twenty minutes to pry me away from the bathroom mirror. I am so mesmerized by the picture I make, puzzling over its meaning, almost making my head dizzy with the thousands of questions buzzing, zinging, and ricocheting through it at the sight of myself in my special
outfit. I am finally bribed away with promise of a Christmas tree and my first stroll down the streets of Vale Valley.

  The snowfall of a few days ago is all but melted from Darren’s lands, but at the Christmas tree farm, everything is bathed and swaddled in a soft, fine powder, as if by magic.

  “Two elves, Traviel and Elarian, run this tree farm and the attached plant nursery,” Darren informs me as we pull into the completely deserted street near a large house. We hop out of his truck and make our way toward the rows of trees beyond. In front of the first row, there is a posted sign, white lettering painted on red wood:

  Take a tree, dear Christmas traveler.

  Leave a token, if you can.

  Blessed Be.

  For a moment, I feel an overwhelming sense of recognition, not just of the words, but of the place and the magic in the air, the soil, and the plants. “They grow these with magic, don’t they?”

  Darren shrugs. “It seems. They just moved here earlier this year. I do not know them well. But I have to admit there is a definite air of magic here.”

  And that magic recognizes me, shifting around and through me, making my fingertips tingle with the desire to act. Deliberately, I snap my hand down. Then as my fingers fly upwards, something small and shiny falls into the open palm of my other hand.

  “What was that?” Darren asks. I didn’t realize he was watching me. Picking up the object, I turn it around to inspect it.