Patchouli For Christmas (9 page)

Michael freed one hand to reach up and brush it away. “You can’t hide from me.”

Jude blinked and tried to turn away so Michael wouldn’t see the shine in his eyes, but Michael took his chin and lifted his face. He wiped the wetness away with a thumb.

Then Michael reached for the bottle again. “Do you want me to open it so you can wear it tonight?”

Jude caught his hand before he could pick it up. He entwined their fingers and then held their clasped hands to his chest. Michael could feel the beat of his heart right through the soft material. Michael smiled a little to himself as he brought his other arm around Jude and stroked the solid line of his back through the cotton. Fair trade and organic, no doubt.

Jude still hadn’t said anything. Maybe he thought Michael didn’t mean it? “Jude? Yes. Your grandmother told me your father wore patchouli and that sometimes it makes you feel better to wear it. Are you sure you don’t want to open it?”

“No. Not now.” He smiled even though his eyes were still wet. “I don’t need it tonight.”

But Christmas was the time he felt most down. Why wouldn’t he need…?

Jude rolled his eyes in that
you’re an idiot
way of his. Then he kissed him.

Oh. Feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, Michael returned the kiss with everything he had.

The patio door opened, discharging a trio of young women in black party dresses far too skimpy to be any protection from the chill night air. The girls looked at them and giggled before heading to a far corner of the patio to sneak a smoke.

But Michael barely noticed them. Unsure of what he’d glimpsed through the doorway, he kept his grip on Jude’s hand and dragged him to the glass so he could peer into the living room.

Next to him, Jude also peeked in. “What are we looking at?”

“There. By the fireplace.”

“Is that your brother? He looks like a bigger you.”

“Yes. And that’s Lauren standing next to him.” True, they didn’t seem comfortable, and they weren’t actually speaking at the moment. But they held champagne glasses, and they were there. Together.

Michael’s knees went weak with relief. “Thank God.” He ducked away from the glass and leaned against the wall next to the door.

A smiling Jude stepped into his arms. Michael pulled him close. “Thank you for making the appointment.”

“You’re the one who called and talked them into it.”

Michael shook his head. “I didn’t say much. Just told each of them the time and place and left it up to them. I guess they still cared enough to try.”

Jude seemed to be trying to decide if he should speak. “Michael—” he started hesitantly.

“I know,” Michael interrupted. “It’s not guaranteed that everything will work out. But I’m so damned relieved right now, it’s embarrassing.”

Jude smiled at him. “You were scared. That’s natural. They’re your family.”

On impulse, Michael asked, “Will you come with me tomorrow to their house? I want you to meet my nephews.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

Jude brightened for a moment, but then his expression faded to doubt. “I don’t know. I always spend Christmas alone at my place. Although Grandma says that my parents wouldn’t want that, and I know she’s right.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because I don’t want to see anyone. She doesn’t understand that I don’t feel like doing anything else.”

“And what about this year? Do you really feel like spending Christmas alone?”

“No. I guess not.” But he still looked hesitant, as if trying to adjust to some novel idea.

“We can keep the kids busy with the presents I got them. That will give Doug and Lauren some time to talk. You’d be doing me a favor.” Michael figured an appeal to the do-gooder in Jude might work. It did.

Jude grinned. “When you put it like that…okay.” Then a look of dismay came over Jude’s face. “But I didn’t get you a gift. I should have gotten you something.”

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t expect anything.” But Jude still looked upset, so Michael added, “There is one thing I want.”

“What is it?”

Smiling, Michael leaned forward and whispered into his ear. Jude’s mouth dropped open. Michael continued to speak in a low voice as he watched a deep blush slowly work its way up Jude’s neck.

“Really?” He sounded breathless. “That’s what you want?”

Michael ran a thumb along Jude’s cheekbone. “Really.” Their lips met again, and Michael sighed into Jude’s mouth, gradually letting go of the tension that had tied his stomach into knots the last few days.

But just as his hands started to wander down to that marvelous ass, they were interrupted by a rather querulous, “There you are!”

Michael jerked his hands away and jumped back as if burned. Rather, he tried to. But Jude had his arms around him and didn’t seem to want to let go, even though his grandmother was standing
right there
, frowning at them.

“Uh, Jude.” Michael tried to wriggle free, but the grip around his waist was like an iron vise.

Michael looked at Jude’s frowning grandmother helplessly.
It’s not my fault. He won’t let go
. He thought it at her with all his concentration. He couldn’t say it out loud. Jude might get mad.

Either she wasn’t receiving, or she didn’t care. Her frown darkened into a scowl.

Jude rested his cheek against Michael’s shoulder for a moment. Then he lifted his head and smiled at his grandmother. “Thank you, Grandma. He’s just what I wanted.”

The scowl melted away to be replaced by a rather smug grin. “Merry Christmas, boy.”

Michael froze.
What the hell?

Mrs. Kendrick looked at Michael and rolled her eyes just like—
Oh. That’s where he gets it
. “What would you have done,” she asked, “if I had told you I wanted to fix you up with my grandson?”

A setup? Michael felt too stunned to be angry.

She answered her own question before he could form any words. “You would have run screaming in the other direction.”

Michael heard a warm chuckle in his ear. “She’s right, you know.”

Bewildered, he transferred his stare from her to Jude. “But you didn’t even want me in your apartment when we first met. You couldn’t have planned this. Could you?”

Jude stiffened. “No! I swear I had no idea.”

Mrs. Kendrick spoke sharply. “Don’t be silly, Michael. Jude would have locked himself in his loft and sulked all through the holidays if I had suggested he go out and have some fun, never mind tried to fix him up on a blind date.”

Michael didn’t know if he should be angry or grateful.
Manipulative old woman.

Her expression turned soft. “Don’t be upset, dear. I knew you two would be good together. You need a reason to slow down. Someone to care for—someone waiting for you to come home at night. And Jude? Well, Jude just doesn’t need to spend another Christmas alone.”

Any inclination toward anger melted away at her gentle and heartfelt words. Michael simply decided to consider himself lucky and not think about the way she had played him.

But he still felt puzzled about one thing. He glanced back at Jude. “But you knew. You figured it out?”

“I couldn’t understand why she sent you to my place on a Thursday afternoon. She knows that’s always my yoga practice.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Now I think she wanted you to see me doing all those poses.”

The old lady chuckled. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Jude glared at her. “I started to wonder then, but I figured, well, she’s pretty old, maybe her mind is going.”

The cane thumped on the floor. “Watch it, boy. I can still return him.” With a harrumph, she turned and went back inside, leaving them alone.

Jude still appeared a little anxious, as if worried that Michael might think he’d been in on the plan. “I promise I didn’t know what she was up to until you said she told you about the patchouli and my father. She would never tell that to anyone unless she had a good reason. You’re not mad, are you?”

Michael looked into Jude’s eyes. Anxiety, doubt…hope for the future? The expressions chased themselves across his face until Michael ended his worry with a long kiss, banishing all conflicting emotions until only hope remained—a hope that Michael now shared.

Epilogue

Michael’s Present

Michael settled back onto the couch in Jude’s loft. The lube packet and condom in his pocket made a little crinkling noise. He’d already turned off his phone and left it on the kitchen table. There would be no interruptions and no distractions while he enjoyed his Christmas present.

His jeans had already become uncomfortably tight as his swelling cock pushed against the zipper in anticipation. Cupping his balls, he ran one thumb along his shaft, but didn’t free himself. He wanted his present from Jude to last as long as possible. But he also wanted to get the show on the road.

“What’s taking so long?” he called impatiently.

“I’m coming!” Jude pulled the beaded curtain aside and stepped out of the bedroom.

“Not yet, I hope.”

“Oh, you’re such a funny guy.”

“Come on,” Michael urged. “What are you waiting for?”

“I feel silly.” Jude looked down at himself. The old too-large Greenpeace T-shirt fell off one shoulder. Under it, he wore nothing at all. The shirt only partially covered his erection.

Michael smiled a bit smugly. Jude must not feel that embarrassed, or he wouldn’t have such a pretty hard-on. “You look fucking hot.”

“And you’re fucking weird.”

“You asked me what I wanted,” Michael reminded him. And, as Michael recalled, Jude had been rather turned on by the idea, despite his blush.

“So I did.”

“I’m ready when you are.” Michael let his knees fall open. Maybe Jude needed a little encouragement. Slowly unzipping, he pulled out his now raging erection and ran his palm up and down the shaft while staring at Jude as if he wanted to eat him alive.

His eyes glued to Michael’s stroking fist, Jude pulled the T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he put his palms together and stretched his arms over his head.

Michael sat on the couch and fondled himself as he watched Jude move through his routine. The athletic body reached, bent, and twisted until Michael let out little moans in time with his now rapidly moving hand.

Finally Jude bent forward and pressed his palms flat on the floor, and that was that. Michael rose and positioned himself behind Jude. He grasped those sweet hips and grinned to himself.

Oh yeah. Fantasy fulfilled.

Loose Id Titles by Bren Christopher

Big Cypress Crossroads

Friday Night Jamie

Patchouli for Christmas

Bren Christopher

I’ve lived in Florida most of my life and have a hard time imagining living anywhere it actually gets below freezing and
stays
there, even during the day! Of course, I have two cuddly cats and an even cuddlier husband to keep me warm at night. Not to mention the steamy romances I’ve always enjoyed reading so much that sometimes the stories would continue in my head long after the book was finished. When I finally decided to start writing down my own stories, I discovered that writing is just as much work as I always suspected it would be, but I also discovered I enjoy it more than I ever thought I would. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.