Déjà Vu

By Addison Albright

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2018 Addison Albright

ISBN 9781634868167

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

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 may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might 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.

* * * *

Thank you to my regular critique partners and beta readers for your invaluable advice: Amy, Jena, Leslie, Nell, and Spencer.

* * * *

Déjà Vu

By Addison Albright

Chapter 1: To Walk or Not to Walk?

Chapter 2: Déjà Vu

Chapter 3: Merry Christmas to All!

Chapter 1: To Walk or Not to Walk?

Gavin

Gavin and Matthew pushed through the theater’s outer doors into the chilly night along with the rest of the holiday revelers. Matthew made that purring hum that landed somewhere between a sigh and a soft laugh on the scale of sounds Gavin used to read his husband’s moods. That particular noise meant Matthew was contented.

They’d come out to watch the cinema’s annual double feature of It’s a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story. Personally, Gavin would rather have watched Bad Santa, but the sappy movies were well worth sitting through, because Matthew was so easygoing and never complained when they went with Gavin’s preferences. Besides, a contented Matthew invariably morphed into a cuddly Matthew. And that was never a bad thing.

Gavin stepped nimbly, warmed despite the brisk, fresh air. He pulled in a deep lungful. The mostly full moon lay hidden behind a sky full of clouds. None but the brightest stars would have been discernable anyway due to the ambient big-city lights.

A light snow was falling. Granny would have called it “Christmas snow,” large, wet flakes drifting gently from the clouds high above. The kind that made one want to turn their face to the sky and open their mouth to catch a flake or two on their tongue. “Snowman snow,” if enough of the stuff fell to the ground. Scattered flakes adorned Matthew’s chin-length, floppy brown hair and short, tidy beard like he’d had glitter tossed on him.

No doubt snowflakes landed on his own head, but Gavin figured they probably looked more like dandruff on his short, wavy, black hair.

“Let’s walk home.” Matthew clasped Gavin’s hand and flashed his eyebrows.

“I don’t know.” Gavin gave that hand—warm even through their gloves—a firm squeeze. “It’s pretty late.” Although, a growing number of people were hailing taxis, so most likely he and Matthew would be waiting a while if they held out for one.

“It’ll be fine.” The light from the streetlamp reflected off Matthew’s dark chocolate-brown eyes, making them shine, and Gavin’s heart melt. “I don’t want to risk a stinky cab messing up the beauty of this night.”

Getting mugged on the walk home would screw it up even more, but Gavin glanced down the street. With plenty of people still out and about, that outcome was unlikely, and he kept that pessimistic thought to himself. He needed to stop letting his military background affect everyday decisions here in the real world.

“Okay.” Gavin lifted Matthew’s gloved hand to his lips for a brief kiss. Matthew’s eyes glimmered merrily from the twinkling lights around the movie posters they passed. Romantic gestures like that always brought a smile to Matthews’s lips, and Gavin loved nothing better than to make the love of his life smile.

The thud of their steady steps, sounding heavy with their solid thick-soled boots, blended with the general background clamor of footsteps and cars buzzing by. None stood out until they’d traveled several blocks, and the traffic—both foot and vehicular—thinned.

Even then, none of the noises stood out as exceptional or disquieting in any way, only now Gavin could distinguish the individual sounds. He listened out of habit rather than because he felt any undue concern.

Matthew’s movements remained buoyant even with the solidity of his strides. A pair of footsteps behind them took a right turn, and others replaced them, merging from a side street to join the handful of others still there.

Halfway home, foot traffic dropped to a trickle, and a streetlamp ahead of them winked out. The alley behind it lay pitch black.

Likely, the timing was coincidental. Lights went out, and odds were someone would be around to see it when it happened. Just because Gavin and Matthew were the people to see this one shine its last lumen didn’t mean there was anything nefarious about the timing.

Nonetheless, no sense in inviting trouble when there were easy options to avoid it. Gavin slowed and checked over his shoulder to make sure the street was clear, then steered Matthew across the expanse of pavement. They would pass an alley on that side, too, but the streetlamp at its end shone brightly, and nothing—or rather nobody—was visible from their vantage point.

“You know—” Matthew sounded droll “—if somebody with the ability to turn off a single streetlamp at will is after us, they’re going to get us eventually anyway.”

Gavin wasn’t that paranoid. Nobody was after them in particular. Why would they be? Well, gay-bashers might single them out, but not to the point of planning ahead and lying in wait. It was possible someone with that kind of technology might target random passersby, though. Most likely it was a legit blown light, but even then, someone who happened to be lurking in the alley might take advantage of it.

“I know. Just humor me, darling.”

Better safe than sorry, that was Gavin’s motto. But when that second light went dark just as they passed under it, Gavin realized it was possible to be both—doing the seemingly safe thing, but still ending up sorry.

In the fraction of a second that he had to consider their situation, the thought that he hadn’t been paranoid enough passed through his mind. But surely the idea that someone could and would turn off one streetlamp to lure them across the street before turning off the second flirted with the edges of extreme conspiracy theories. Didn’t it?

Gavin gasped when the first light, now across the wide street, came back on, doing them only a little good at this distance. But further noise caught in his throat as Matthew was ripped away from him. Or rather, Gavin’s scream choked at his larynx, because a hand, far stronger than it should be, wrapped around his neck, squeezing relentlessly.

Someone yanked him effortlessly into the inky blackness of the alley. Something clattered against a Dumpster—sounds consistent with a man kicking, struggling for his life—much like Gavin was thrashing his legs, only without finding any purchase.

No vocalizations came from any of the alley’s occupants. Matthew was probably being held the same way as Gavin.

Gavin’s eyes widened as he struggled to see something, anything, that could be used to help. His arms flailed, hitting nothing. He had to get free…had to help Matthew. He couldn’t let his husband die like this, terrified and alone.

Matthew must have been hauled away from that Dumpster. The clanging stopped, replaced by erratic thumps of his boots on the hard surface pavement. Until it stopped, the same instant a viscous liquid, unnaturally warm in the cold winter air, spurted across Gavin’s face.

“Nooooo!” Gavin’s mind screamed the word unable to escape him, no matter how much he wanted to drown out the slurping sounds coming from that same direction.

He kicked out helplessly as a mouth with dagger-sharp and astonishingly long teeth opened in front of him. The faint glow of the distant streetlight reflected off those brilliantly white fangs…and the very human-looking eyes above them.

 All Gavin could think was that Matthew was gone. He’d failed his love, the man who made life worth living. He’d fallen into the trap that these—vampires?—had set, and Matthew was dead, or about to be, because Gavin could do absolutely nothing to prevent it.

A chill that went far beyond the December night air penetrated to his bones. No tears ran down his cheeks. He was too dead inside to feel anymore. He didn’t flatter himself with the thought they’d been specifically targeted. No. They’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Gavin went limp as the fangs descended toward his neck. He didn’t even care.

* * * *

Victor

“What on Earth?”

Victor jumped at the unexpected words, not to mention the shocked tone embedded in them. He hadn’t heard Bryan approach. “Nothing.” Victor sat straighter and managed to say the single word without adding a questioning inflection, but it still sounded guilty. As hell.

“You can’t do that!” Bryan continued to read over his shoulder. “Can you? Seriously, you’re not going to kill off Gavin and Matthew, are you? I mean, that’s your most popular series.”

Victor sighed and shrugged but didn’t give a verbal reply.

Bryan squatted, then peered up at him with narrowed eyes. “It’s a romance, for goodness’ sake. Can you really just throw in a vampire death scene five books into a contemporary romance series? You’re not going to turn them into killer vampires, are you?”

A clatter of falling—something—came from the living room.

Bryan’s head turned toward the sound. “Shit,” he muttered, then glanced at Victor and groaned as he stood. “Felix must be climbing the tree again. Hold that thought. I mean, they’re your characters, you can do what you want, or what your publisher will let you do, I guess, but do you really want to do this to your readers? Even if you want to end the series, is this the best way to do it?”

“Probably not,” Victor muttered. Although thoroughly sick of writing the pair of characters, he recognized that he’d been only letting off steam as his fingers had flown across the keyboard typing. He glanced at his watch and followed meekly as Bryan rushed to the living room.

“I wonder which ornament bit the dust this time?” Bryan faced Victor. The concern lines on his forehead smoothed, and one side of his mouth twitched. Funny that the destruction of an ornament rated less concern than Victor killing off fictional characters.

“Dunno.” Because no ornament was safe from their kitten, Felix, no matter the placement. Victor shuddered as a long-ago vision of a Christmas tree falling on his young self filtered to the surface. Hopefully, the kitten would outgrow the burning need to explore the tree, same as he had done.

Bryan stooped to pick up the broken pieces of a basic metallic ball. “You know those interlocking foam floor tiles they make for kids’ rooms? We should get some to put under the tree. Nothing has a chance when it hits this granite flooring.”

“Good idea.” Victor gently pried Felix from where he’d hunkered down about two-thirds up the tree. When Bryan turned questioning eyes that carried a hint of sadness toward him, Victor put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not really planning to kill them off like that.”

When Bryan had asked whether or not Victor wanted to do that to his readers, he’d put himself at the top of that pile. Bryan was his biggest fan and supporter.

“Just venting?” Bryan raised a hopeful eyebrow.

Victor nodded. He gave the kitten a scratch behind his ears and let him down. Victor wasn’t sure of the source of the frustration he had been letting loose—or maybe he just hated consciously acknowledging it—but yeah, definitely venting.

“I hope you don’t continue a series just because you know I love it. You write in your free time because you enjoy that creative outlet, and if you aren’t having fun with it, it’s time to stop.”

“I still love writing.” Victor shrugged. “I’m on the fence whether or not to end the Gavin and Matthew series, but not writing overall. I just…I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

If anyone understood Victor’s annual holiday blahs, it was Bryan. Much as Victor tried to suppress the undesirable feelings, they managed to push through and cast a pall over everything, even his writing. Bryan had been through it with Victor for enough years now. Victor wobbled his head as if trying to literally shake off the blues and pasted a smile on his face. “How about dinner out tonight?”

“You’re a mind reader. That’s why I went into the office…to suggest that.”

“Chinese?” There was a place they liked just five blocks away.

Bryan grinned and grabbed their coats. He pointed an index finger at Felix. “We’ll be gone only a couple hours. Behave yourself.” As if that would work. But Victor couldn’t stop a corner of his mouth from quirking up at Bryan’s lightheartedness.

Out on the street, it was darker than expected. Clouds covered the anticipated light from the full moon. Victor shivered and pulled up his collar against the chill.

Bryan nudged him. “Figure there are vampires lying in wait for us in one of the alleys?”

Victor snorted a laugh. “Doubtful.” And as many people as were out on the streets, they shouldn’t need to worry about an armed mugging either.

The not-quite-but-almost-last-minute shoppers milled about, laughing and chattering as they left one store and entered another. Jingle bells tinkled as each door opened to let people in or out.

That was the kind of thing that used to bring an easy smile to Victor’s face. Now it felt more forced. Each December as the city came to life with holiday decorations and good cheer, he deeply regretted having chosen Christmas Day to come out to his family. Needless to say, their horrific response to the news had not been tempered by holiday spirit as he’d hoped.

Why, oh, why couldn’t he have simply chosen a random summer day?

Victor sighed and took Bryan’s hand. Bryan gave it a squeeze and softly hummed along with Mariah Carey as “All I Want for Christmas Is You” drifted out from of one of the shops.

Worth it. Bryan was totally worth it. Five years ago, Victor had known in his heart that he would have to choose between his family and the man he loved, and he’d never wavered in his decision. Nor had he ever regretted it.

Still, knowing he’d made the only choice he could live with didn’t take away the pain of knowing his family now thought he was an immoral, sinful person that revolted them. It bothered him even though he was an adult, and all apron strings had been cut for years.

He’d long ago figured out that his personal value system veered sharply from theirs. If they’d been random people he’d met in his life, they wouldn’t have become friends. And it wasn’t as if he’d traveled to Iowa to see them more than once or twice a year anyway, so it wasn’t so much that he missed them in his life as that he hated having people who’d once meant everything to him—and that should support him in life regardless of something as immutable as his sexuality—thinking he was some sort of cretin.

Bryan added a jaunty little swing to their handhold, swaying their joined arms back and forth to the beat of the music. Until it stopped short—not the music, but the arm-rocking—when the streetlamp ahead of them winked out.

“O-kay.” Victor’s eyes widened, and he steered them into a lighted doorway.

Bryan tittered a nervous laugh. “It’s just a weird coincidence.” His tone sounded like he wanted to add a reassurance-seeking, “right?” to the end of his sentence, although he didn’t.

“Yeah. Still freaking me out.” Even Victor’s voice shook. He darted a glance toward the darkened expanse ahead of them.

Bryan puffed out an uneasy breath. “Okay, generally speaking, crossing the street would be the smart move, especially since we eventually need to cross it to get to the restaurant anyway.”

“Right. This is stupid.” Victor glanced around the doorway in which they huddled and rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He clutched Bryan’s hand with more vigor than was standard, and they stepped onto the sidewalk, feigning a confidence Victor didn’t feel. His head swiveled as he checked the traffic. “We’re going to have to backtrack a bit to cross at an intersection. Traffic’s too heavy for jaywalking.”

It took them only a couple minutes to get back to the same point, but across the street. Victor kept peeking at the lamp over the alley. It remained steadily on, illuminating the street, sidewalk, and into the passageway between the two buildings where it stood.

Victor slowed their pace so they’d cross that stretch of pavement at the same time as another group coming toward them. Bryan’s body vibrated with suppressed laughter as Victor steered them to the outer edge of the sidewalk, as far from the alleyway as they could get without stepping into the street, then sped up to pass the opening as quickly as possible without looking too obviously paranoid.

People on the opposite side of the street also continued through the dimmer section without incident. Because of course they did. Even knowing he’d fallen down a rabbit hole of abnormal anxiety, Victor couldn’t help but notice how jumpy he’d become once that tension drained from his shoulders after they’d cleared the alley.

Bryan pressed his elbow into Victor’s side and grinned. “That’ll teach you to write such a horrific ending to beloved characters.”

“Smart ass.”

Bryan snickered. “Serves you right.”

“Yeah, I know.” Victor didn’t want Gavin and Matthew to end that way any more than Bryan or the vast majority of his readers would. He’d rework the scene in the morning. Bittersweet was still on the table. Maybe. But a gruesome mauling by vampires was off.

Chapter 2: Déjà Vu

Gavin

Matthew’s movements seemed buoyant even with the solidity of his strides. The footsteps behind them varied as people turned on and off from side streets.

Halfway home, foot traffic thinned to a trickle, and a streetlamp ahead of them winked out. The alley behind it lay pitch black.

Likely, the timing was coincidental. Lights went out, and odds were someone would be around to see it when it happened. Just because Gavin and Matthew were the people to see this one shine its last lumen didn’t mean there was anything nefarious about the timing.

But a persistent feeling of déjà vu nagged at Gavin, and he brought them to a stop. “I don’t like this.”

“You know”—Matthew sounded droll—”if somebody with the ability to turn off a single streetlamp at will is after us, they’re going to get us eventually anyway.”

“I know. I’ve just got a really weird feeling.” Gavin shivered and shook his head. “It’s stupid, but…” He turned and lifted an arm. “Taxi!” he yelled.

A cab pulled over. “Ugh,” Matthew said. “It’s really not that far. We can cross the street to avoid the dark stretch.”

“No. I’m sorry, I can’t explain it. Please just humor me.”

“Fine.”

Gavin’s stomach fluttered, and he blew out a heavy sigh as he slid across the back seat of the cab. He flashed Matthew a wide grin and got a smirk in return as his husband slipped in beside him. Gavin gave the address, and the cabbie rolled his eyes—probably because it was such a short distance—but took off.

Matthew planted a quick kiss on the corner of Gavin’s mouth. “On the plus side, we’ll be home that much faster.”

They both rocked forward, then thumped back in their seats as the taxi slammed to a stop. They’d barely gone twenty yards. “Out!” the cabbie shouted as he turned his mottled red face to them. “Outta my cab!”

Matthew stiffened. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It was a peck, not a make-out session. Get over it.”

“The only thing I’m gettin’ over is your dead body after I kick the livin’ shit out of you if you don’t get outta my cab, pronto!”

“Come on.” Gavin took note of the cab’s identification number and elbowed Matthew. “Let’s go.”

Matthew huffed, but opened the door. On the sidewalk, Gavin rushed them past the dark opening to the alley and breathed a sigh of relief once they were clear.

“That was somewhat worse than a mere stinky cab.” Matthew’s jaw looked tight as he bit out the words.

“Sorry. I…damn.” Gavin sighed. There wasn’t anything he could say to fix it. What could he do, repeat that he’d had a “weird feeling” over and over? That wasn’t going to make up for their ruined mood. Especially since it had been all for naught. They were past the dark alleyway, and nothing had happened. He’d put them through that ordeal for nothing. “I made note of the cab’s ID number. We’ll report him, because that was bullshit.”

Matthew matched Gavin’s sigh with one of his own. “Don’t worry about it. Yeah, I want to report him, but it’s cool. I’ll be fine.”

The next intersection was well-lit. Gavin turned to Matthew. “I love you, and I’m not going to let that jerk spoil our happy night.”

“You’re right.” Matthew nodded decisively. “He’s not worth it. We won’t let him win.”

Darned right. The cabbie and his ilk were in an ever-shrinking minority. They were on the wrong side of history, and all those other catchphrases that were nonetheless true.

Gavin glanced at the pedestrian crosswalk signal as the lighted red hand switched to a clear white walking figure. “Come on.”

Strains of Bobby Helms singing “Jingle Bell Rock” drifted from a coffee shop entryway as someone exited, and Gavin and Matthew stepped into the street.

Gavin wondered idly what the procedure was for reporting discrimination by a cab driver. Report it to the taxi service? Was there a government site for making reports?

Four steps in, they didn’t even see the cement mixer, whose driver apparently didn’t see his red light. By the time people on the street screamed in horror, Gavin and Matthew were beyond hearing.

* * * *

Victor

Victor smirked as he wrote those last two sentences.

Bryan snorted behind him. “You knew I was standing here, didn’t you?” Bryan gently thumped his shoulder.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” Victor looked up with a sheepish grin.

“Because really…a cement mixer? Isn’t it like nine at night in the story? And close to Christmas? Maybe it’s not impossible, but still…”

“I wrote it only because I knew you were reading over my shoulder.”

“Don’t make me sic Amelia on you.”

Victor laughed but executed a phony pearl-clutch maneuver. “Never that!” He could always sic Felix on Amelia in retaliation next time she visited, but then again, Bryan’s sister would probably think that was fun.

Amelia was Bryan’s only rival for the distinction of being named Victor’s biggest fan. She gushed over the Gavin and Matthew series. Victor was almost certain part of the appeal was because he’d described the pair to look like Victor and Bryan.

“I’ll tell you what, since it’s Christmas Eve, I won’t introduce the topic with her, but I’m not gonna lie if she brings up the story.”

Victor just rolled his eyes, because that promise wasn’t worth much. Oh, Bryan would keep his word, but Amelia could absolutely be counted on to ask about his progress on the current manuscript.

“Speaking of Amelia, is it time to go?” She hosted a big pot-luck dinner party for Bryan’s whole extended family on Christmas Eve, including their parents, all four siblings and their spouses, and a few young nieces and nephews.

“It is.”

Victor saved his file and followed Bryan like the devoted husband he was. He shrugged into his coat and picked up the chafing dish loaded with ham balls. Bryan grabbed the shopping bag full of gifts and ushered them out the door.

In their cab, Victor gave Bryan a sidelong glance, and Bryan gave him a knowing grin. As in, knowing exactly what Victor was thinking.

Bryan gave a cocky double-eyebrow waggle and feinted a lean toward him. Victor’s eyes widened, and he returned a small but jerky head shake. Bryan’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as he turned to watch the snow-covered buildings go by out the side window. But he did snake over a hand to grasp Victor’s, and Victor held it and gently rubbed his thumb across his husband’s wrist all the way to Amelia’s.

The upbeat holiday rhythm of “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes rolled out the door when Amelia threw it open. The red bulbs dangling from her pierced ears flashed merrily, and she beamed at them. “Did you wear them?”

“Of course!” Victor said. “Is Simon wearing his?”

“Darned right!”

Victor snickered. Not that she’d have needed to twist her husband’s arm to get him to put it on. Amelia and Simon were well-suited. In fact, he’d probably helped pick out the holiday sweaters they’d given to everyone in the family last year with the plea that they all wear them to the Christmas Eve party this year.

Amelia wore hers. At first glance, it looked like an innocuous white sweater with a wide red band that had rows of demure diamonds trimming the top and bottom edges. Until you took a double-take at the three white reindeer in that field of red and saw what they were doing, which was…each other.

Bryan and Amelia’s parents approached with wide smiles and open arms. “Merry Christmas!” they sing-songed.

Amelia rescued the chafing dish from Victor’s hands, and Bryan dropped their shopping bag of gifts while they went through the hug gauntlet. Those embraces and accompanying murmurs of “So glad you’re here,” and “Come in and take your coats off,” were so warm, accepting, and genuine, that if Victor had had any remaining holiday blues smothering his usual cheer, that would have pulled him out the rest of the way.

Bryan’s mother rotated side to side, showing off her sweater. It was fairly tame, depicting Santa leaning over to place gifts under a Christmas tree with the top of his thong peeking out of his droopy pants. “What do you think?”

Bryan laughed. “It’s you.”

Shaking his head at Bryan’s father’s “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” sweater that had Santa warming his junk in front of a fireplace, Victor added with a wink, “I think it’s a good thing the grandkids are a bit too young to pick up on our humor.” Although a “half-moon” was all they actually saw of Santa’s nether regions.

Victor and Bryan had gotten off easy with their matching green and white sweaters, differing only by the phrases appliquéd across the front. There was nothing remotely offensive about them either. Oh, some would express their indignation at the messages—some like Victor’s family—but Victor had seen many different sweaters all season long while he was out and about that had the same phrases emblazoned across them. People having dogmatic viewpoints that flew in the face of established science and the consensus of the medical and psychological communities did not render the slant given to the statements on their sweaters objectively distasteful.

Victor joined Bryan at the coat closet to hang up their outerwear. He smiled at the rainbow-colored lettering on Bryan’s sweater, proclaiming, “Don We Now Our Gay Apparel.” Victor’s mood had lifted as soon as he’d pulled on his own sweater earlier in the afternoon. His decreed they should “Make the Yuletide Gay…AF” with equally colorful lettering.

It felt a bit like a big “in your face” to the family that had rejected him. He’d been wrong thinking that his melancholy had stemmed from hating the thought that the family that had once meant everything to him now thought he was some kind of reprobate. Or maybe that had been the root of it, but his feelings had since evolved.

Ever since putting on the sweater earlier, a voice in the back of his head had whispered “right on…make the yuletide gay in every sense of the word.” Because why not? Why should he let anyone’s baseless opinion affect him? His family by choice had given him this validating gift that his family by birth would have scoffed at.

He now recognized that his sadness had stemmed from mourning the loss of the people he’d placed on a pedestal in his childhood memories. Except, the parents he’d once looked up to as moral guides hadn’t actually changed, it was his perception of them that had changed.

They didn’t deserve the honor of being mourned anymore. The people he’d been grieving didn’t actually exist outside of his mind.

Victor turned to Bryan as raucous laugher erupted across the room. “Come on, I’ve got to see Simon in that godawful sweater Amelia gave him.” His was a long sweater displaying a snowman standing on its head. The snowman wore a knitted hat with “tassels” that were two shiny blue ornaments attached to the sweater, and sported a plastic orange carrot nose projecting out, and drooping down over the balls.

Amelia announced, “Hey, the food’s all here now. Feel free to grab a plate.” Their Christmas Eve dinner was not a formal sit-down affair, but more of a free-for-all. Go through the line and sit wherever.

“Is that all we are to you, bearers of food?” Bryan threw out his arms in a mock affront.

Simon swayed suggestively to make his carrot and blue balls swing back and forth. “Don’t make me come over there and show you what you mean to me.”

“Promise?” Victor waggled his eyebrows suggestively and pointed at his sweater. “Because I’m under orders to make the yuletide gay.” He silently mouthed, “As fuck.”

Amelia snickered. “Bryan can have a go at Simon if he wants, but your butt’s going to be parked next to mine while I grill you on what you’re doing with Gavin and Matthew.”

Victor groaned in defeat as Bryan guffawed.

Chapter 3: Merry Christmas to All!

Victor

Victor stretched in the dim early morning light. He turned on his side and lay watching Bryan’s chest expand and contract with the long slow breaths of sleep. The inhalations were steady and dependable, just like the man. Always there, always supportive, always loving. Always.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled in a lungful of Bryan’s warm scent. He resisted the yearning to draw the man into his arms, and instead settled for stopping the kitten mid-pounce from waking Bryan, and planting a light kiss on his husband’s forehead before slipping out of bed.

After feeding Felix, there was something Victor had to make right, and he wouldn’t be able to relish the joy of a cozy Christmas morning with Bryan until he’d taken care of it.

* * * *

Gavin

Matthew scowled as he stood at the window, staring out at the heavy snow drifting down. “It’s not supposed to let up.” He glanced at the weather app open on the tablet. “Four or five inches are expected to accumulate over the next few hours, and about eight overnight.”

Gavin pushed aside his laptop. He’d been finishing the latest story in his Victor and Bryan series, which was just as well. He’d had a really strange dream last night, and it had given him an idea for a paranormal story. He wanted to concentrate on fleshing out that concept in his mind while the impression was fresh.

“But you wanted some Christmas snow.” He came up behind Matthew and rested a chin on his shoulder, and felt some of the tension drain.

Matthew turned his head to brush a light kiss on Gavin’s lips. “I know. And it is pretty. I just wish we weren’t going to have to miss the It’s a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story double feature. It’s tradition for us to go see it.”

“So we’ll buy digital copies and stream them at home this year.”

“Yeah?” Matthew’s expression brightened.

“Sure, why not? We can even make popcorn.”

“Well, yeah, that goes without saying. And you know, since we’re not limited by what the theater is offering, we can add Bad Santa to our movie marathon.”

“Now you’re talking!”

“Walking in the snow would have been nice, though.” Matthew planted another kiss on Victor’s cheek. “We could’ve seen who could catch more flakes on their tongue.”

Gavin shivered, but he shook off the disturbing dream. “Yeah, it would’ve been fun.”

“On the other hand, we can snuggle on the couch if we’re watching the movies at home.”

Gavin grinned and quirked an eyebrow. “And maybe Bad Santa will inspire a few…shenanigans on the couch?”

Matthew matched Gavin’s grin and pulled him toward the couch. “I think maybe we need to start a new Christmas Eve tradition!”

* * * *

Victor

Victor turned when Bryan padded into the office, rubbing his eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” Bryan muttered. “You’re up early.”

“Merry Christmas! I had to make this right.” Victor shrugged and petted Felix, cuddled on his lap. “I woke up anyway, so I figured I’d get this out of the way before you got up, too.”

Bryan bent down, planted a kiss on Victor’s forehead, and read. He quirked an eyebrow at one point, then tittered. “You’re weird.”

“But you like it?”

“Love it. And love you.” He pulled on Victor’s arm. “Come back to bed and I’ll show you how much.”

Victor grinned much like the Grinch, put the kitten on the floor to freely wreak destruction in their absence, and followed like the lovestruck Bryan-devotee that he was.

THE END

ABOUT ADDISON ALBRIGHT

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

For more information, visit authoraddisonalbright.com.

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!