Secret Santa

Secret Santa by Clare London

Eternal Press www.eternalpress.com.au

Copyright ©2007 by Eternal Press First published in 2007, 2007 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Secret Santa by Clare London

CONTENTS Secret Santa Dedication About the Author ****

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Secret Santa But Jamie wasn't listening to that. "I've never tasted them before," he said, tentatively, his eyes flickering between the dish of berries on the counter and Seb's face, watching his reaction. "Cranberries." Seb raised his eyebrows. "No? Here, let me." He picked another one off the pile and held it out. Jamie hesitated. His hands stayed by his sides. His eyelids drooped, making his eyes look sleepy, almost lascivious. Seb's breath caught in his throat and his eyes narrowed. He took a couple of steps forward so that he was close up to Jamie. For a second, they stared into each other's eyes. Seb felt Jamie's breath on his cheek, felt the brush of a stray blond hair against his neck. "Let me," he whispered again, and he lifted the cranberry up to Jamie's mouth. Jamie was shocked at his bold behavior, but this was what he wanted to do, wasn't it? This was what felt suddenly exciting. He opened his mouth slightly and Seb—with a sly grin—slowly slid the berry between his lips. "Chew on it," Seb murmured. "Get the flavor." He sounded amused, and his eyes were sparkling. His fingers lingered on Jamie's lips a little longer than they needed to guide a single, small berry onto his tongue. He seemed very interested in the path of that berry, too, watching the way Jamie's mouth closed over it, biting into the sharp, unfamiliar taste. When Jamie's tongue flickered out to lick a drop of moisture from 4

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the edge of his upper lip, Seb sucked in a breath that sounded painful. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Secret Santa by Clare London

Secret Santa © 2007 by Clare London All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic of mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental. An Eternal Press Production Eternal Press Wangaratta, Victoria, Australia, 3677 To order additional copies of this book, contact: www. eternalpress.com.au Cover Art © 2007 by Julie D'Arcy 6

Secret Santa by Clare London

Edited by K. Celeste Bryan Book Production by Julie D'Arcy First Edition * December 2007 Production by Eternal Press Printed in Australia and The United States of America. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Secret Santa by Clare London

Secret Santa Clare London ****

**** Dedication ~ To a special young man who competes with me for laptop time ~ [Back to Table of Contents]

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It was like High Noon on the domestic front. Seb leaned over the counter in the middle of the kitchen, one arm braced on the worktop, eyes dark with annoyance. There were various pans and utensils scattered on the surface around him, but no evidence of any cooking. He'd been called good-looking by plenty of people in the past, and amusing, and lively, too. Tonight, however, his face was twisted into a rather less than flattering scowl, and he was just plain riled. He didn't care who knew it, either—he'd always been an extroverted young man. His long dark hair flopped forward onto his forehead but he was too distracted to push it out of the way. He was itching for an argument, just waiting for someone to bring it on. From over the other side of the counter, Jamie glared back. He was blond and pale in contrast, and his annoyance made his face color. Unlike Seb, he tended to be described as sensible and thoughtful—oh, and reasonably good-looking too, people would add as an afterthought. Right now though, his lips were pursed and his face flushed, and it took all his self-control to keep his voice calm. It wasn't his way to show his emotions so blatantly, but dammit, he was sorely tempted! They made an attractive, though diverse, pair, but at this precise moment, both were wishing the other was in a separate, far-distant star system—and would have happily lit the blue touch paper under the rocket that took them there. Despite their different temperaments, Jamie and Seb were well matched when it came to arguments. And they fought all 9

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the time, didn't they? They disagreed about movies, about clothes, and about cars. What one said, the other contradicted. Admittedly, sometimes they discussed football games quite civilly and laughed at jokes together, and they met every weekend for social events. Curiously, they were also known to call each other up on the phone almost daily and talk for an hour or more. But they still argued. Jamie knew Seb had called him a workaholic geek in the past, but to be honest, he'd been known to call Seb a borderline drunk. He'd had his fair share of revenge in that regard. To him, Seb's social life was a maelstrom of parties and casual hook-ups with unsavory young men who favored multiple body piercing, or at the very least a lurid tattoo. In return, Seb often dismissed Jamie's social life as a wasteland consisting of no young men at all, and he regularly told people—with a smirk on his face—that Jamie's idea of a thrilling Saturday night was a packet of chocolate biscuits and a movie on Management Accounting. Yes, there was plenty more to argue about there. In the past, their friends had laughed off their habitual animosity, then attempted to mediate. Now they just went to find something more interesting to do in another apartment. Which was exactly what had happened tonight. The kitchen door was firmly closed behind the two young men, acting as a barrier between them and what was meant to have been the start of a pleasant Christmas dinner party with a group of close friends. But the rest of the apartment was deserted now, except for a relentless stream of Christmas carols coming from the music system in the 10

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lounge. Back in the kitchen, there was an alternative background of tension humming its own static tune. Seb and Jamie continued to glare at one another. Neither looked remotely filled with the Christmas spirit. "Come on, it must have been you," Seb snapped. "It's the sort of stupid thing you'd think of. It wouldn't be the first time you'd tried to convert me." "No way," Jamie replied, spiritedly. "No sense, no feeling where you're concerned. And how come you're so quick to accuse other people? It's more like the kind of sick joke you enjoy so much." "But I didn't buy it," they both said, almost simultaneously, then fell into confused silence. "So ... what the hell am I meant to do with it?" Seb asked, belligerently. He lifted up the item in question, a brand new, open cookbook, stabbing it into the air like some kind of weapon. The cover was illustrated in vibrant greens and yellows. "I mean, it really is a sick joke!" "Why are you asking me?" Jamie growled, his cool demeanor slipping ever so slightly. "I've got the same problem, haven't I?" He held a similar cookbook in his right hand, though this one had a different cover, full of dark reds and browns. "No-one's admitting they got them for us, though, are they? They were wrapped up under the tree in the same kind of paper, same anonymous handwriting on the label, with nothing different between them except for our names." Seb frowned. "It's Harry's apartment, Harry's invitation, Harry's tree. So..." 11

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Jamie shook his head. He dropped his book down and leaned back against the counter. "No, Harry denied it very convincingly. He keeps up that pathetic charade, insisting they're gifts from Secret Santa." "Yeah." Seb nodded fiercely. "He told me the same with that suspicious smirk on his face." He ran his hand through his hair, but it just flopped forward again. Hell, he'd given up several party invites to come along this evening, hadn't he? Invitations where there'd be plenty of free drink and food, and probably more than a few good-looking young men who'd enjoy Seb's brand of humor. This kind of corny, presentgiving evening was uncomfortable for him at the best of times, not that he didn't think his friends were great. He'd have to laugh about it all with Jamie afterwards. Then he glanced at the other man and remembered they were meant to be arguing. Jamie looked so coolly sanctimonious in the face of Seb's outrage, his lips tight with disapproval, lounging against the counter with that healthy, athletic body of his. He'd crossed his long, strong legs at the ankles, and his arms were folded firmly across his chest, pulling his shirt tight across broad, well-developed pecs. He's cute, came Seb's unbidden thought. Always has been. It startled him at the same time as it sent a gentle shiver through his body. He should have gone to one of those parties instead, shouldn't he? Now was not the time to resurrect a variety of uncomfortable dreams he'd been having over the last few months. 12

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"It's some stupid tradition," Jamie was saying, "where you give an unwanted present to an unsuspecting friend from an unknown source. Sounds like a recipe for disaster if ever I saw one." He caught Seb's eye, and for a second, there was a flicker of shared amusement between them. "No pun intended, right?" Seb grinned. His anger could melt away as quickly as it arrived. Jamie grunted, less willing to back off just yet. "Obviously, you've never been one for Christmas traditions at the best of times, and it's not like I have the time myself." He glanced at his watch. He had work to finish tonight, papers waiting for him at home at the end of the evening. It may well be the start of the holidays, but he couldn't afford to let things slide. The new promotion relied on his commitment, one hundred percent and then some more. He wasn't really a guy who welcomed distraction, but that's what Christmas always was. And so was this evening. Jamie glanced at his friend, watching the other young man's face twist up with irritation then crease into a grin. Seb was always lively, always volatile, always ... so passionate. Jamie found it fascinating that their personalities were so different. It seemed like Seb was a human recipe for disaster, all on his own, and there was always some crisis, romantic fiasco or ludicrous argument that he dragged Jamie into for some kind of moral support. Seb was so damned infuriating! He didn't think things through, he just reacted, and then had to back off or apologize accordingly for his bad behavior. Or not, as the case may be. 13

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Jamie was about to scowl again, but something made him smile instead. Funny how Seb had that effect on him. Funny how he'd been starting to welcome the dragging in that Seb did to him, to welcome the sound of him in the same room, the smell of his clothes when he passed by, and the firm, impulsive touch of his hands when he grasped Jamie by the shoulders and swung him around just to get his attention... Seb was staring at him, and Jamie felt himself blush again. Whatever I've been feeling recently, it's inappropriate, right? And totally impossible. "It's just a joke, Seb, that's all." Seb grinned, waving his book around more vigorously. "You can say that again! Veritable Vegetarianism. What kind of humor is that?" Jamie winced. "I might say the same about mine. Mouthwatering Meats—a similarly offensive prank." It was ironic, really. Jamie had been a committed vegetarian since he was old enough to express a choice, but Seb was a shamelessly enthusiastic carnivore. They'd tolerated each other's tastes for all these years with a mixture of amusement and scorn ... and separate menus when they ate out. Secret Santa couldn't have got them a more inappropriate gift if he'd searched for the last three hundred and sixty four days. "A mistake in the wrapping, do you think?" Seb mused. "Wrong book, wrong guy?" Jamie shook his head. "No, they've been personally marked." 14

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Seb sighed. "So what shall we do with them? Matt said we should just swap and have done with it." For the first time, Jamie looked discomfited. "But the message is very personal." He opened the cover and read the fly sheet. "Mine says, For Jamie, his..." He coughed selfconsciously and flipped it shut again. "Well, just that." Seb shrugged. "Mine says For Seb, too. But so what?" Jamie flushed. "I couldn't give that to anyone else. Not even someone I..." "Huh?" Seb peered at him, puzzled. "Not even someone who'd get some proper use out of it," Jamie finished, rather too quickly. "Not even when you don't know who it's from?" Seb frowned. He glanced at the book in his hand, recalling the elegant script inside the cover and the more detailed, personal message that he hadn't shown anyone else. "I know what you mean," he said, grudgingly. "It's still a gift. So what shall we do with them?" They stood silently for a moment, both reluctant to seek compromise. Jamie finally spoke. "We both offered to cook a Christmas supper for the guys at some time over the holidays. I guess we could use these gifts..." He paused. "...as inspiration?" said Seb. Jamie nodded, cautiously. "Between the two books, we can manage a meal that suits everyone." Seb grunted. "You mean work together on it? I'm to use my book for the hippy vegetarian fringe—" 15

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"And I'll use yours for the bloodsucking carnivores. Right," Jamie agreed. They returned to glaring at each other. "Tonight?" Jamie nodded again. "Might as well get it over with." "You'll lay off your usual, freeze-the-balls-off-a-brassmonkey disapproval of me, then?" asked Seb. Jamie grimaced. "So long as you repress the deliberate, I'm-a-moody-bastard-just-to-provoke-Jamie act." Seb grunted and glanced at his watch. "So where are the others now?" "Hiding at Amy's apartment on the third floor, pretending to sample some mulled wine, I expect," Jamie replied. "More like avoiding getting caught in our crossfire." Seb frowned again. "Like we're school kids ... sending us to our room." "Or in this case, the kitchen to cool down." Jamie bit back a sigh. "But I guess we've been arguing ... well, since we all arrived. Didn't you see Matt wincing every time you raised your voice?" "And the way Harry turned up the music just before they left?" Seb smiled at that, despite his previous bad mood. "I never knew he was such a rabid fan of that Christmas Hits album!" He glanced at Jamie and was pleased to see a similar twitch of his mouth. "We drive them mad," Jamie said. He met Seb's gaze just as boldly. "They don't know what the hell's wrong with us." Seb nodded, slowly. There was something in Jamie's expression that was ... intriguing. But all he said was,"Let's get on with it, then." 16

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Jamie watched Seb turn away to gather up some pans. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm his irritation. He could have wished that hadn't sounded more like Let the battle commence! **** Seb chopped the turkey breasts and spinach, the knife slicing across the kitchen board with confident strokes. He lifted a couple of pinches of salt and sifted them into the flour for batter. The Christmas carols were still on in the background and he started to hum one as he turned to stir the cranberry chutney warming in a small pan. The steam rose from the surface, misty and fragrant. He realized Jamie was watching him from the other side of the kitchen where he was preparing his own food, the two of them working back to back on opposite counter surfaces. Jamie was very still, his eyes large and bright. As soon as Seb noticed him watching, his gaze snapped away from Seb's hands as if he were guilty of something. "What's up?" Seb suddenly felt flushed, though the kitchen was no hotter than before. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead and he flicked them away. Jamie's eyes followed that movement too. "You said you didn't need the cooker yet, your dish was mainly cold." Jamie frowned. "No, I'm good. I was just ... watching you work." "For God's sake." Seb was unnerved, though he wasn't sure why. "Just back off, right?" 17

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Jamie opened his mouth to retort something, then just as suddenly closed it. "So how long are you going to keep it up?" "Huh?" Seb peered at him from under his wayward hair. "The hostility." Jamie bit his lip. "The 'This kitchen ain't big enough for the both of us' act. If we don't take some time out here, something's going to get burned and it's not necessarily going to be the dinner." Seb stared back. His friend had that wry expression on his face, the one that implied he knew exactly what Seb's game was. Seb had always admired that in him. He smiled back, slowly. "That's how it's coming across?" Jamie nodded. Seb shrugged, but his smile grew broader. "A truce, then, right? Just while we get dinner done?" Jamie looked at the way Seb's face lit up with amusement. He was a very bright, witty man when he chose to be. Very attractive, he thought. His stomach churned, inexplicably. "Okay," he joked. "So when are you going to step away from the sharp knives?" Seb started to laugh, turning back to his preparations. "Being the cute guy now, right?" Jamie rolled his eyes and smiled back, but his gaze flickered up and down Seb's back. "Just like you," he murmured. Seb's hand paused over the sliced meat. He didn't turn his head, but his nose wrinkled. "You cook well," Jamie said into the sudden silence. Now he seemed unusually interested in the countertop to the left 18

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of Seb's work space. "That's what I meant. Confidently. You've got flair." For a second, they both seemed surprised at the way the conversation had gone. Seb finally turned around, noticing how flushed Jamie's face looked. He blinked hard, strangely flattered by Jamie's praise. Proud, even. How ridiculous was that? "Yeah, right," he said, skeptically. "For a moody bastard, you mean." Annoyance flashed in Jamie's eyes. "For God's sake, I meant it just as I said it." He let his own paring knife fall to the work surface with a clatter, scattering some sliced beans. Damned man, he thought. Was this how it was always going to be with them? "Seb, I know you make no attempt to understand me at times, that you enjoy making me look an unimaginative fool. But you do cook well, and I wanted to say it, so I did. Even if I somehow said the wrong thing." Seb stared at him. He felt defensive. "But you think I'm crap at most other things, of course." Jamie shook his head, sharply. "There's no of course about it. You choose to take my comments that way, and so that's all you hear." "Huh?" Jamie bit at his lip and frowned as if he'd started something he now thought was suicidal to continue. "Not everyone's as articulate as you, Seb. Not everyone can communicate the correct nuances. Sometimes I don't succeed." He grimaced. "Obviously." 19

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Seb frowned. "You think I drink too much; I play around with unsuitable guys; I don't listen to your advice. I'm careless and frivolous and a pain in the ass. All things you've told me in the past. That seems pretty articulate to me." Seb spoke the list as calmly as he could. "Right?" "Wrong." Jamie sounded so sharp in return that Seb's eyes widened. "That's what you've told me," Seb repeated, irritated. "You're implying I'm deaf, too? I mean, every time we argue..." Jamie snorted, interrupting him. For a brief moment, he considered holding his tongue, just as he often did, but then the moment passed. He felt an unfamiliar light-headedness tonight, as if something had suddenly snapped and released inside him. "That's when it happens," he said. "That's when I lose my cool. You provoke me, time and again. I may not be particularly happy about that—about what I say in the heat of the moment—but there never seems to be the opportunity to set the record straight, because you've always moved on to something else. You make me feel ... so different, Seb, but I don't see what I can do to change—it's just how I am. I've never felt the need to open my feelings to the world, nor be the life and soul of the party like you, I just seek to give and receive..." "Respect?" said Seb, softly. He stared at Jamie, amazied, but he nodded, too. "Yes," said Jamie. He hadn't thought Seb would listen, let alone understand. He felt an odd kind of relief warming him 20

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inside. Without really noticing it, he took a step toward Seb's side of the kitchen. Seb frowned. "But I've always respected you, Jamie. Hell, why shouldn't I? You're great at everything you choose to do. Dammit, it never seems to me like you lose your cool, not like the way I do, make a fool out of myself and offend someone every time I open my mouth. You're sensible and smart, you don't drink to excess, you don't smoke, and you have a damned good job while I'm still resting between assignments, as the aimless unemployed like to say. You look good, too. You're pretty fit; people must have told you that before. You'd have a battalion of cute guys hanging around your heels if you gave them even the slightest hint of encouragement, if you were even remotely interested—" "Who says I'm not?" Jamie's voice broke in, sounding a little hoarse. He'd taken another step nearer, but now halted abruptly. Seb blinked hard. "Seb, just because I don't have a constant stream of dates doesn't mean I don't want ... attention." Jamie knew he was straying into that losing his cool danger zone again, but there was something very unusual about this evening that was making him act out of character. "It's just a joke to you that sometimes I stay in on the weekend; that sometimes I prefer to work late. You call me a bore and a coward because I don't want to go cruising the bars all night in the hope of dragging home someone who meets the basic parameters of being warm and willing and possibly able to write his own name—" "Cheap shot," growled Seb. His temper bubbled up again. 21

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Jamie drew a breath. "Yes," he admitted. "Sorry." Seb coughed, startled. "Um ... me too, I guess." Jamie smiled, a little sadly. "Maybe I'd like something more," Seb hurried on, not meeting Jamie's eyes. "Maybe that's all I can be bothered with for the moment, while I try to find someone who..." He paused and grimaced down at the counter, realizing he was gripping his knife way too tightly. He unpeeled his fingers from the handle and let it fall back down. "Obviously your personal life's all sorted." His laugh sounded awkward even to his own ears. "Maybe I'm jealous ... jealous that it's all perfect for you, that you don't need anyone disturbing it, playing the fool, getting under your skin—" Jamie looked shocked. "Seb, I didn't mean ... and we're arguing again, just like usual." "That's not what I want." Seb spoke swiftly, but quietly. They fell silent again, breathing heavily, eyes on each other. Seb turned his head to look over at the salad that Jamie was preparing. It was a combination of ripe, rich green leaves and vegetables; pale and dark; common and exotic, all tossed together in a deep glass bowl. Seb could smell the tartness of rocket leaves, the tang of fennel. He took a deep breath. He felt disorientated tonight; something was teasing his nerves, making him speak even more rashly than usual. "Look," he said. "Whatever you think, I don't do it deliberately." "What?" 22

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"Piss you off. The moodiness ... well, it's just me. It's not petulance, whatever you say. I'm stubborn, okay? And hotheaded. But it's not an act, Jamie." For once, he didn't know if he was explaining himself well enough. "It's just..." "Passion." Seb's eyes widened. "Uh ... yes." He was startled by the piercing bright blue of Jamie's eyes fixed on him. "I just see that disapproving expression on your face and that's it, I see red. I want to..." He paused. "I want to shake that coldness in you, make you see me as I really am." His heart was beating faster. "I just follow my feelings, you know? Well, you probably don't. You think that's reckless; I find it liberating. But it's not always the right thing to do, I know that. It can be pretty annoying. Okay, so I can be. But like you said about yourself, I'm not always happy about that." "It's not coldness." Jamie looked stricken. "That's not how I feel toward you. Far from it!" He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "And I'm beginning to agree with you, too—about the liberating effect. I see the way you behave and the fun you have, and the confidence you have..." He stopped, then laughed gently. "For a presumably intelligent, articulate young man, I'm struggling, right?" "No," said Seb. He needed to swallow because his throat was very dry. "You're clear enough to me." Jamie gazed at him. It was as if they suddenly spoke without words. "Maybe you're not the only one who gets jealous, Seb," he murmured. **** 23

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Seb was vividly aware of a lot of things, suddenly—the humid air in the kitchen, the harsh sound of his breath, the way Jamie's hair curled awkwardly over his left ear, and most importantly, the bright shine of emotion in his friend's eyes. "Here," he said, abruptly. "You want some?" He scooped up a handful of cranberries he'd been using in his chutney and held them out. Jamie looked down, startled, but then he opened up his hand and let Seb trickle them into his palm. With Seb watching, Jamie turned back to his dish and scattered them carefully into the salad. He picked up a wooden spoon and mixed them in, the rich, dark red berries shining in contrast with the greens. "A true Christmas effect," he said slowly and smiled. "It looks good." Seb grinned too. His mouth was watering, and he wasn't sure it was entirely due to the dish. "Yeah, it does. You're a really good cook yourself, Jamie. Not just the technique, but the creativity as well, you know? Hell, if I had to eat nothing but the green and grassy stuff—well, your cooking would probably do it for me." Jamie's eyes darkened, but he was smiling. "And I'm meant to take that as a compliment?" "Yeah, right, sorry." Seb shrugged, ruefully. "Shit, if you're going to get pissed at me again—" But Jamie wasn't listening to that. "I've never tasted them before," he said, tentatively, his eyes flickering between the dish of berries on the counter and Seb's face, watching his reaction. "Cranberries." 24

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Seb raised his eyebrows. "No? Here, let me." He picked another one off the pile and held it out. Jamie hesitated. His hands stayed by his sides. His eyelids drooped, making his eyes look sleepy, almost lascivious. Seb's breath caught in his throat and his eyes narrowed. He took a couple of steps forward so that he was close up to Jamie. For a second, they stared into each other's eyes. Seb felt Jamie's breath on his cheek, felt the brush of a stray blond hair against his neck. "Let me," he whispered again, and he lifted the cranberry up to Jamie's mouth. Jamie was shocked at his bold behavior, but this was what he wanted to do, wasn't it? This was what felt suddenly exciting. He opened his mouth slightly and Seb—with a sly grin—slowly slid the berry between his lips. "Chew on it," Seb murmured. "Get the flavor." He sounded amused, and his eyes were sparkling. His fingers lingered on Jamie's lips a little longer than they needed to guide a single, small berry onto his tongue. He seemed very interested in the path of that berry, too, watching the way Jamie's mouth closed over it, biting into the sharp, unfamiliar taste. When Jamie's tongue flickered out to lick a drop of moisture from the edge of his upper lip, Seb sucked in a breath that sounded painful. "Good?" "Yes," Jamie whispered. His heart beat very fast. "Very good." Seb smiled. His fingers lingered at the edge of Jamie's jaw, brushing lightly over the freshly shaved skin. Yes ... very good. 25

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Jamie gazed back at Seb, enjoying his new assertiveness; enjoying being this close and knowing something had irrevocably changed between them. "You've never said anything like that to me before, about being creative. It's not something I associate with me, you know. It's more about you—the flair and the charisma. That's what you have, Seb, it's all about what you are." He was suddenly speaking too quickly. He heard the words spill out as if he'd temporarily lost control of them. "You're outrageous and argumentative, sure, but it's so vibrant, it fascinates me. You're good looking in a way that turns heads, too. I see your popularity, your humor, your ability to understand people and talk their language, whatever it is. All you want is to enjoy life, to do things to the full. Yeah, I am jealous, jealous that I don't attract that in you. That ... passion, as you said." "Jeez." Seb was silent for a moment, astonished. Something flickered in Jamie's eyes, something shockingly vulnerable, yet greedy with need at the same time. Seb noticed his friend was still holding the wooden spoon in his hand, and rather too tightly as well. "Turns heads, you say?" Jamie made a strangled sound. "For God's sake, don't mock—" Seb reached forward and plucked the spoon very deliberately out of Jamie's hand, dropping it back on the counter beside them. "I'm not mocking. I just reckoned it was my turn to tell it like it is." He put a hand on Jamie's shoulder and his fingers brushed lightly at the other man's neck. He didn't think he'd ever touched Jamie like this before; with fear and confusion—with hope. 26

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With desire. "Are you saying I turn your head, Jamie?" Behind him, the chutney started to bubble on the stove. Jamie was going to reply, was going to nod, but he never got the chance. Seb bent his head to the side and pressed his mouth to Jamie's. Jamie froze. But when Seb's tongue nudged insistently at his lips, he opened them swiftly and hungrily, and kissed back just as fiercely. **** The temperature in the kitchen had increased by many degrees and not all of them were caused by the cooker. Seb's back was to the counter, the edge digging into his waist. He had a smudge of cranberry chutney on his nose. Jamie was only a step away from him, their eyes locked on each other. They were both breathing more shallowly than earlier in the evening. When Seb lifted a hand to wipe away the chutney, Jamie grasped his wrist, not harshly, but the grip was firm. "I'll do that." With his free hand, he wiped the chutney gently off Seb's nose. Then his fingertip continued to trail down Seb's cheek, under his jaw and then along the lines of his throat. Seb groaned aloud, a soft growling sound from the back of his throat. His head went back, baring his neck, and he swallowed heavily. Jamie dropped his hand, leaning in closer. "I mean ... I want..." 27

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"What?" Seb's voice was just a whisper. "Say it." "I want you." Jamie's murmur breathed heat and sweet excitement into Seb's ear. He sounded both shocked and thrilled, but then hadn't that been his permanent state, ever since he put an arm around Seb's waist and pulled him in for a proper, non-cranberry caress? Seb bit back a gasp. His body shivered. "How long, Jamie?" His words were hoarse. Jamie watched the movement of Seb's mouth, the drop of sweat on his upper lip. He thought he could watch it for hours. He'd never imagined quite how fascinating this vibrant man could be! "What do you mean?" "How long have you wanted me?" Jamie smiled. That was an easy question. "For always, for too long. Have I said the wrong thing again?" He realized he didn't care anymore. He knew he spoke honestly and with care, the same as always. It was just that he was finding new words and new expressions now—and Seb was listening to him too. "We've never talked about these things; never stopped arguing long enough to discover an alternative way of communicating. Do you find it offensive?" "Offensive?" Seb's laugh was a little shaky. "I've wanted you since you first turned those icy eyes on me and told me to shut the hell up." Jamie frowned. "Those have never been my words." Seb grinned at the narrow wrinkle of concern on Jamie's forehead. He had a mad, bad and reckless urge to put his lips to it and kiss it away. Damned guy was too literal! He was too pale, too, and it made the flush on his cheeks stand out more 28

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boldly. But Jamie was strong enough to press back against Seb's torso when they shifted around, and it felt like both of them took their turn struggling for dominance. He was also intuitive enough to know that if his fingertips brushed at the crease of Seb's jeans, just underneath his left buttock, Seb would be tempted to whimper and roll over, playing dead like the best kind of obedient pet. How does he know me so well? Seb grinned at such a wild and happy thought, and just kept grinning. Jamie felt good under his grasp and tasty on his lips. When and how had he deserved this Christmas present? He brushed his hand along Jamie's arm. "So, okay, I paraphrased. But you argued with me when you first met me, and nothing's changed since." "Until now." Seb looked into the dark pupils and it felt like he'd stepped into quicksand. "Yeah, until now. So what's happening here?" "We forgot to fight," murmured Jamie. "We worked together—we talked. We discovered things we didn't know before—" "No, that's a lie, we knew them already," interrupted Seb, with some of his earlier belligerence. "We just didn't admit them." Jamie raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Must be the Christmas seasonal spirit." His mouth ghosted in the air in front of Seb's, reaching for another touch. Seb obliged, because he was a good guy like that. He held on to Jamie as long as he thought was decent after what was, after all, only one of their first kisses. Then he held on some 29

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more for the delight and the hell of it. "Never was one for Christmas at the best of times," he muttered. "Said that before, didn't you?" His protest was unconvincing, and also muffled in another open-mouthed, hungry kiss. "So tell me." Jamie pulled back and gazed up at him, amusement twisting his lips, damp with their saliva. "Are they icy now?" "Your eyes?" Seb made the pretence of considering it. Jamie pressed even closer, so that his hip rubbed against Seb's and his knee nudged between Seb's thighs. Seb tightened his fingers on the material of Jamie's sleeve and moaned very softly. "I'd say they're at just the right temperature." Jamie smiled. He tilted his head and nudged his jaw against Seb's cheek. Then he licked his lips. "Any chance of you remembering what we were arguing about in the first place?" Seb shook his head, a little dazed. Damn, when this man loosened up, how the hell was he meant to remember anything more complex than his own name? His eyes clouded as he tried to focus on Jamie's face, suddenly close to his own. Jamie's lips touched so lightly near his ear that he thought he might have mistaken the caress—then they pressed along his jaw line, up over his cheek and to the tip of his nose. No, he hadn't mistaken that sudden surge of excitement through his veins. "Just ... wanted you to notice me," he whispered. "The fighting did that. It's something rather than nothing." 30

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Jamie licked over the trail of the cranberry chutney smear, his tongue hot and slick and swift, lapping at Seb's skin. His breath was shortening; he panted slightly. "I've always noticed you. And this is something instead. Something you deserve." He nipped mischievously at Seb's earlobe. Seb laughed, astonished, breathless. He slid a hand around Jamie's waist and pulled him sharply against him. He twisted his head and captured Jamie's mouth on his own, tasting the chutney, tasting the damp heat, tasting the flaring desire. The kitchen was full of the rich aroma of cinnamon and cranberries, teasing their nostrils. Jamie groaned through the kisses. "Good technique, you said I had. Creative in the kitchen too." He pushed against Seb, pressing the other man even further back against the counter, and his leg wriggled between Seb's thighs, forcing them apart. Seb growled in the back of his throat again and nipped at Jamie's lip. Jamie frowned but he kissed him back, harder, his mouth fierce, his tongue flickering against Seb's, taking the kiss, forcing it, demanding it. Seb loved to be challenged—he felt the swelling in his groin, reacting to the rough play. He wanted more—way more—but how did Jamie feel? "This is mad," he gasped. "Right? We were arguing. We were cooking. Now we're..." "Not," interrupted Jamie. He kissed again, relentless. "Look, we don't have to..." Seb grunted. Jamie's teeth grazed his lip. "If you want to think this through..." Jamie's hand tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it out from the 31

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belt of his jeans, and Jamie's fingers slid underneath, cool on his bare skin. "Hell, forget I said anything," Seb growled. Jamie laughed, breathlessly. His eyes glinted. "What was that about you never listening to my advice—?" Seb laughed, hoarsely. Then Jamie slid to his knees on the kitchen floor in front of him, and words failed him completely. **** The chutney bubbled and the parsley sprigs crinkled up on the abandoned chopping board. Pressed up against one another on one side of the kitchen, the young men neglected it all. Jamie unzipped Seb's jeans and tugged them by the flaps down to his knees. Seb's cock was swollen and aching, already dampening the front of his boxers. Jamie stared at its thick shape and sighed, very softly. Then he leaned forward and mouthed teasingly at the straining fabric. Seb groaned loudly. His eyes half closed, his head went back. "Jamie?" Jamie lifted his head and stared up at Seb. His pupils were dilated and his hand rested on Seb's thigh, anchoring himself. "Hmm?" "That thing ... the passion in me ... you wanting that." When Jamie nodded, his chin jolted Seb's balls inside his boxers. Seb nearly yelped aloud. He couldn't believe how sensitive he was, how aroused. "Don't want you losing any sleep about it. You've got it all, you know?" Jamie slid his fingers inside the waist of the boxers and tugged down one side. Seb felt his control slipping away, his blood dancing 32

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some happy, hysterical path all the way from his extremities to his quivering cock. "Jamie, I feel that way too..." "Hush," murmured Jamie, his breath tickling the hairs of Seb's thigh. "It's okay. I know." "I'm not usually the restrained one, you see?" Seb licked at his painfully dry lips. He was gabbling, he knew it. "But this is very ... you are very ... and what about the guys? This is Harry's kitchen..." Jamie laughed softly. The touch of Seb's skin made his flesh shiver with goose bumps. His tongue slipped out and licked at the soft skin in the crease between Seb's thigh and groin. "The last thing Harry did was put that damned Christmas Hits CD on a loop. He didn't expect to be back down for some time. But do you want me to stop? I didn't mean to rush..." Seb didn't bother answering such nonsense. When Jamie tugged down the other side of his boxers and released his cock, he only managed a gasp. Then he reached a hand down on to Jamie's head, tangling his fingers into the blond hair, and he tugged Jamie's head nearer. Jamie felt a pulse of excitement run through him, his own arousal heavy and painful in his jeans. The flesh of Seb's cock was hot and swollen and nudging his nose. He swallowed, nervously. It had been a long time since he'd done this, since he'd dated anyone remotely regularly, since he'd dated anyone he knew as well as Seb, or cared as much about... Then Seb gave a happy moan, and his cock jerked impatiently against Jamie's bottom lip. Jamie smiled and leaned forward to take a good, slow mouthful, letting it slide 33

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along his tongue, taking it carefully in past his teeth. He folded his hand around its base to guide them both, untangling the small, curled hairs that got caught up. The kitchen air was piquant with the crushed leaves of his salad and the sweetly sour sauce, but all Jamie could smell was the musk of Seb's skin, and all he could taste was the warm, salty flavor of the drops of pre-come in his mouth. Seb started to thrust in and out of his mouth, and Jamie's other hand slipped down to his lap, trying to relieve his own excitement. "No," whispered Seb above him. Jamie glanced up, wide eyes staring from under his tousled hair. Seb's eyes looked feverish, like some feral animal, the pupils dark and dilated. "Later," Seb said hoarsely, his eyes flickering down to where Jamie was stroking himself. "That's on my menu." **** The evening was wearing on and they were both standing again by now, pressed back against the counter, arms wrapped around each other and in various states of undress. Jamie was panting shamelessly and Seb had clutched his hands tightly under the curves of Jamie's ass. They had their shirts on, but undone, and both were naked from the waist down. They didn't seem to have any inhibitions about it. "Madness..." Seb grinned. "This really is madness. Nude skin in a kitchen with the added threat of imminent discovery. What's got into us?" Jamie slid a hand behind Seb's waist and ran his middle finger down between Seb's buttocks, slick with sweat. Seb's 34

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eyes rolled. "Point taken. Blame Christmas. Blame Santa, secret or otherwise. Blame..." "Make me care less," hissed Jamie. Seb's eyes flashed with excitement. He tightened his arms around them both and turned them bodily back toward the centre of the kitchen. They stumbled, limbs locked together and mouths still searching, still consuming. "You're pushing your luck," Seb growled. Jamie laughed, though it was cut off with another fierce kiss. Their combined bodies staggered sideways, pushing a stool over and sending a cluster of utensils bouncing on to the floor. "Supper," he moaned. "Burning...?" "Let it," hissed Seb. They slammed against the counter and both of the open cookbooks spun off the edge. Jamie grunted and flung out an arm, looking for something to grab on to, knocking over the salt and pepper mill. The contents spilled on to the counter, black peppercorns scattering amongst the glistening white salt, crunching underneath the wooden mill as it fell. Seb lurched back again, pulling them across the room, grunting as he crashed against the fridge door this time. Something rattled and fell inside, and a dribble of white liquid started seeping out from under the seal. By then, they'd turned again, arms gripping each other, nothing more than inches between their panting bodies, toppling the kitchen chair so that it rocked on three legs, pushing off one wall then another, their mouths breathing nonsense into the other's, then accepting back the moans of greed. And through it all they were laughing and kissing in equal measure. 35

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Seb wrenched Jamie around one final time, slamming him into the kitchen door and pressing so hard against him that he felt Jamie's heartbeat hammering in between the beats of his own, and Jamie's thighs flexing against his legs, warm and damp with sweat. Damn, but he needed more of this, just in a more comfortable and relaxed situation. This was a dream come true, this was... He hissed into Jamie's ear. "What did your book say?" "Huh?" Jamie had caught sight of his distorted reflection in the cooker door, and he knew he looked drunk on excitement, his skin marked pink from Seb's eager grip, and his neck mottled from the occasional nip of Seb's teeth. He didn't think he was capable of more sensible speech. Really, all he wanted to do was take Seb away from here and back to his own apartment. He wanted to talk to him some more, kiss him some more, taste him some more, and this time from the advantageous grandstand of the bedroom... "My book said," Seb continued, determined to clear up this point, "To Seb, his Christmas surprise. Seek the dream inside the distraction." Jamie gasped. "Mine said, To Jamie, his Christmas surprise, same as yours. But it also said, Find the pleasure inside the provocation. I didn't know what it meant." "Santa did," said Seb, wryly. "Means I've been chasing around when I should have been looking closer to home." Jamie lifted hooded eyes to him, lips swollen, coherent words elusive. "Yes. And I should have seen what we shared, not what we argued about. Right?" 36

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Seb smiled at him. So cute. "Right. So maybe the Secret Santa routine wasn't as sick a joke as I thought." Jamie nuzzled in against Seb's neck, making his friend groan again. "You still think it was the guys? Harry?" "You mean, as opposed to a fat old chap with a red coat and a long beard?" Seb chuckled. "Whatever. Who cares?" He slid his hand back under Jamie's ass and tugged on his buttocks. "I want to take this further. I want to take you further. You want that, too, or you want to spend some more time debating urban Christmas myths?" Jamie sighed. The New Year was looking better by the minute, as long as he could suffer through Seb's seasonallyinspired smart mouth. "We have to tell them supper's off," he said. "The guys." Seb was stroking the skin right up behind his balls and he couldn't think straight. His cock could, but that was another matter. "I mean, we should reassure them, in case they think we've killed one another. Tell them our collaboration's been successful..." "...but there's no food tonight," finished Seb, laughing. "Right." Jamie laughed, too. "Not the kind you find in cookbooks, that is." Seb nodded, and flushed at the very pleasant memories from half an hour ago. He watched Jamie's lips, plump and firm and tantalizing. He leaned forward to capture them again, mouthing his own need. "We'll call them back down in a minute," he whispered. He pushed off the door, arms around Jamie, one hand in the fair hair at the nape of Jamie's 37

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neck and the other tugging at the hem of what was left of his shirt. "In a long minute." Behind them was the background hiss of Seb's pan of chutney boiling dry, and the not-so-delicate aroma of a burned non-stick surface. Over in the corner was the soft plop and bubble of liquid still seeping from under the fridge door. Jamie ignored the noises, trying to eke words out between Seb's kisses. "I'm not fighting you on that," he said, with a grin. [Back to Table of Contents]

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**** About the Author Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and ... writes. She juggles fiction with a frantic family life and waits for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She's written in many genres and across many settings, with short stories published both online and in print anthologies. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama, with a healthy serving of erotica, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters. Her other works published by Eternal Press include Masquerade and Just Like Scrooge. Clare currently has a fantasy novel in the 39

Secret Santa by Clare London

process of publication, two more nearing the submission stage and plenty of other projects in mind ... she just has to find out where she left them in amongst the frantic family life. To learn more about Clare and her writings please visit her website at www.darkpearldiva.com.

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