“Try again.”
“You… I…” I want to fuck you. Phin gulped. Just as well that hadn’t come out of his mouth.
“You and I. That’ll do.” Maric pulled down the red trousers.
He was wearing nothing underneath.
Two
Oops. Maric had hoped for a better reaction to being seen naked, but Phin swivelled the other way and strode off. “I’ll get you a dressing gown.”
Obviously, this wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Bloody Olan. He’d wanted Maric to fuck this up. The sensible thing to do was leave, except Phin wasn’t going to let him just walk out of here because he felt responsible for knocking him over. The best thing to do would be to wait until the guy was asleep, then sneak off. Except, it was late to be arriving anywhere now, so maybe it would be better to wait until morning. He still had plenty of time.
Maric pushed open the door on his left and gasped. Oh no, this is terrible!
*
Phin’s lust flicked to irritation in an instant. Is the guy all there? He was wearing nothing under that outfit. Who set off in this weather wearing so little? He had to be on his way to a fancy-dress party. Or maybe he was a strippergram. Did people do that anymore? Phin went into his bedroom, pushed his bag under the bed, then pushed it a little further, before he grabbed his blue robe from the back of the door. When he returned to the hall, Maric had gone.
Except he wasn’t that lucky. The door to the sitting room was open and the naked Santa stood with his back to him in front of the wood burning stove which was currently not burning anything. Maric was long and lean with a perfectly formed, tight, lickable, beautiful, smooth arse. Shit, fuck and blast. But the large red mark on his hip dampened Phin’s libido. Oh God, I did that to him. And I’ve been a dickhead.
Try to be fucking nice! He draped the robe over Maric’s back and stepped away before he did more than that. The guy turned, then smiled as he pulled on the robe and tied it. But the smile faded. Oh God, what did I do now?
“What happened to Christmas?” Maric whispered.
“What do you mean?” Phin bent to open the door of the stove and lit the fire he’d laid that morning.
“No tree, lights, cards, decorations, festive scents, half-eaten boxes of chocolates, bowls of nuts or piles of presents.”
“Christmas is over.”
Maric widened his eyes. “No, it’s not.”
How hard had he hit his head? “It’s New Year’s Eve, not Christmas Eve. You do know that, right?”
“I know what day it is. It’s still Christmas until the fifth of January. Twelve days of Christmas. You must have heard the carol.”
“Yet strangely enough I’ve seen no sign today of seven swans a swimming.”
“Just because you’ve not seen them, doesn’t mean they’re not there, paddling away. Why have you taken all your decorations down so early?”
“They were never up.”
Maric’s mouth fell open. His shock looked genuine. “But…but…but…”
“I’ll dry your clothes. Would you like a drink?”
Phin stalked out of the room without waiting for an answer. He scooped up the red jacket, hat and trousers from the floor in the hall and carried them to the washing machine and drier which were in a room off the kitchen. The outfit was nowhere near as sodden as he’d expected it to be. The trousers had looked wet, but they weren’t, which was…odd.
Nothing needed to go in the drier which was just as well because Phin had a sudden image of him taking them out of the drier to find he’d shrunk them to half the size. Best to just put them somewhere warm, so he hung everything by the boiler. He also checked the pockets, but they were empty. He was surprised to find no phone. Maybe it was in the sack.
When he walked back into the kitchen, Maric was sitting on the couch next to the French doors, his feet curled under him, his hands tucked into the sleeves of the robe. Phin remembered the last time someone other than him had worn that robe and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
“Why don’t you like Christmas?” Maric asked in a tone of voice that suggested Phin had kicked his puppy.
Phin picked a reason from a long list, but not the actual reason. “Too commercialised.”
“You’re religious?”
“No, but the real meaning of Christmas has been hijacked by business.”
“Shops are selling a good time. What’s wrong with that?”
Phin was finding it tricky to fight on a side on which he didn’t really sit. Maybe Christmas was too commercialised but—
“Christmas is what you make it,” Maric said quietly. “If you see it in terms of what you want out of it, then maybe yes, it is too commercialised, but it’s also a time to focus on giving to those who’re in need—and not just in need of material things. Christmas is a happy time.”
Not always. Phin glanced at the window. The conditions were terrible. He couldn’t drive this moralising Santa anywhere, nor could he expect a cab to come and get him. The local farmer might be able to take him to Harrogate in his tractor, but it was hardly fair to ask Frank to do it in these conditions, especially on New Year’s Eve. Maric would have to stay overnight. Fuck it. And fuck my cock for twitching.
“Don’t you ever celebrate Christmas?” Maric asked.
“It’s for kids.” Reason two.
Maric looked so disappointed, as if Phin had kicked two puppies, that he felt a pang of guilt. He had loved Christmas until everything had gone wrong.
“It’s not just for kids,” Maric muttered.
No, it wasn’t. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Phin swallowed hard. “I think you’re going to be stuck here for the night. Is there anyone you want to call? Tell them what’s happened and where you are? Maybe they’d like to fetch you.” Please!
Maric shook his head.
“What? No one? No one’s expecting you on New Year’s Eve?”
“Nor you?” Maric looked at him and Phin turned away. “I don’t need to stay. I’ll go when the snow stops falling. Someone will come along and pick me up.”
Is he crazy? “Is your head aching?”
“I’m okay.”
No, you’re not. The chances of anyone being on the lane to pick him up were close to zero. Christ. What if he had mental health problems?
“The only vehicle that’s likely to be out is a snowplough. And that’s not guaranteed. Not on a road like this. You can’t go out in these conditions.”
Even as Phin spoke, the wind picked up and seemed to howl its agreement. “I have two bedrooms, but I’m in the middle of decorating one of them, and the bed’s wrapped up, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch in the sitting room. In the morning, I’ll take you where you need to go.” As long as it wasn’t too far away. “Within reason. Or to Harrogate station.”
Maric curled up even tighter. “Thank you.”
He looked small and vulnerable, and Phin felt guilty. It would cost him little to be nice. His mother would have been ashamed of him.
“Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Wine?”
“What are you going to have?”