by Angel and Rina
Then Vic remembered his lover, his partner and his best friend. A silly
smile crept over his face as he pictured the young man as he'd left him,
sprawled out in their bed, exhausted from exam week and battling a cold.
He'd been wheezing slightly, and his side of the bed was littered with
tissues from a runny nose and lots of blowing. There was Nyquil on the
nightstand and orange juice, and Vic had spend a good half hour rubbing Vicks
VapoRub into Mac's back and chest before the young man muttered a tired thank
you and delivered a sloppy kiss as he passed out.
Mac was definitely worth a little aggravation and a lot of self-control, so
he didn't pull out his gun to clear a path to the store he needed to go to;
instead, he braved the Madding crowd and found the quickest route possible to
Birks jewelry store. Vic had already bought the majority of his gifts for
Mac. He'd got the young man CDs, clothes and an I.O.U for a shopping trip to
Priape. He'd even gone to a local body-piercing place and got his baby a
variety of tongue studs for his piercing.
Now he just needed one final gift, one that Mac couldn't know about until
Christmas morning. Actually, it really wasn't that bad: Vic had ordered the
ring months ago; all he had to do was pick it up since it had finally come
in. He knew it was kinda corny, but Vic couldn't help himself. He and Mac
had been through so much and survived it all. They'd survived their hellish
introduction, the Director and a myriad of cases their job threw at them, and
they were still together and still in love. It was as much of a sign as Vic
could ever hope to get that this was forever.
"Ah, Mr. Mansfield. You've come to pick up the ring, I see," the manager
smiled as he saw Vic finally burst through the crowds and into the peaceful
haven of the upscale store. "Please come into my office; I have it in the
safe. You can have some coffee and relax."
In short order Vic was ensconced in a comfortable wingback, coffee in hand
and a delicate shortbread cookie imported right from Scotland on a plate next
to him. The manager was opening the dial safe, and Vic couldn't help but
chuckle quietly. Mac would have been in that thing in less time than the
stuffed shirt, and the stuffed shirt knew the combination. Who said loving
Mac Ramsey would ever be dull?
The manager finally got the safe open and brought out the black velvet box.
"I hope this meets your approval, Mr. Mansfield, and may I say you have
exquisite taste. Whomever this ring is for is a very lucky person."
Well, the guy was discreet, Vic would give him that. It was obvious from the
size of the ring that it wasn't for a woman, but no comments were made, and
everything was kept civilized. Guess money really did talk.
Popping open the case, Vic examined the platinum and tanzanite claddaugh ring
with a critical eye. He smiled appreciatively then snapped the jewelry box
shut. "It's perfect. Thanks."
"It was our pleasure Mr. Mansfield."
December 20
"Baby please come home. Baby, please—"
Mac turned the key in the ignition, cutting Bono off in mid-note, then
continued humming the song to himself as he climbed out of the car, popping
the trunk as he did so. The Mazda wasn't as much fun to drive as his bike,
but given the weather, it was a necessity. Grabbing the bags from the trunk,
he slammed the hatch, then hit the alarm button, still humming as he headed
up the elevator to the condo.
Vic's truck wasn't in its space, which meant that he had some time to sort
through this stuff and get it wrapped before the older man got home. Mac
didn't think that Vic would stoop to snooping through the condo for his
gifts, but just in case, he was making them unrecognizable.
After locking the door behind him, Mac set his packages down on the dining
room table, then hit the remote that turned on the Christmas tree lights. A
small smile quirked the former thief's lips as he looked at the reflection of
the multi-colored lights in the windows. Christmas had never really been a
special day to him; when he'd been with his father, it had been a good day to
fleece the bleeding hearts, and with the Tangs, it hadn't been important.
Last year, he'd spent the day curled up in a rat-hole of a hotel, sleeping
off the effects of too much partying, but now—now he was surrounded by
tinsel, lights and trappings and loving every minute of it. Who would have
thought that Victor's middle-class values would have worn off on him like
this, not that Mac was complaining. Now that he was feeling better, he'd
cheerfully braved the holiday crowds in search of the perfect gifts for his
lover.
The antique emerald earring was perfect, and its color reminded Mac of Vic's
eyes. The half-carat emerald-cut stone was set in weathered silver, but the
jeweler had assured him that the setting was sound. That had been easy; the
other gifts had required more thought, and Mac had been at his wits' end
until the Director pulled a few strings and helped him get the tickets he'd
been trying to find.
Mac patted his pocket, and grinned. Three days of the finest jazz and blues
artists the world had to offer, and a trip to Monterey, California to boot.
He wasn't going to think of what he owed Lady D for this one, but whatever
she came up with, the expression on Vic's face when he saw the line-up was
going to be worth it.
Spilling the wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows he'd bought onto the table,
Mac turned on the stereo and got to work, wrapping his purchases with a
concentration so fierce that he didn't hear the lock turn in the door.
"Hey, Vic—" he stopped, yelled, then whirled around to block the older
man's view. "Out, out, out! I'll tell you when you can come in!"
After giving his lover the bum's rush out the door, Mac raced around the
condo, pushing boxes into shopping bags and hiding them in the extra closet.
Vic stood in the hallway for a good long moment then burst out laughing. He
laughed until tears ran down his cheeks and he had to lean against the wall
for support. Oh God, Mac's face—the way he'd scrambled around like the
proverbial headless chicken to hide his purchases and prevent Vic from
seeing. His cool as ice baby acting like, well, like he would. It had to be
love!
The elevator door pinged open, discharging Misses Robbins and Young, their
next-door neighbors, who caught one look at Vic and began to laugh
themselves. Grabbing the nearest lady, Vic spun her around and planted a
kiss on her cheek, holding the sprig of mistletoe he'd just purchased over
her head as Mac, panting from exertion, opened the door to let him back in.
"Okay, you can come in now."
Tweaking the younger man's nose as he walked by, Vic shrugged out of his
jacket and kicked off his boots then picked up the greenery again. Twirling
it above his head he took in the gorgeous man in front of him.
Crooking his finger, Vic smiled at his baby. "You know what mistletoe means,
don't you, babe? Come give 'daddy' a kiss," he teased with a sardonic quirk
of an eyebrow. "I double dog dare ya!"
Still trying to recover from his scare, Mac watched blankly as Vic played
with the little sprig of plant-life again. Plucking the twig from the older
man's hand, Mac stared at it for a moment, then eyed his lover.
"This some new kind of herb for your cooking or something you've been
smoking?" he asked, looking for all the world like he had no idea at all what
Vic was talking about. He handed the sprig of greenery back to Victor, then,
before the other man's expression could fall too much, swooped in and kissed
him hard, breathing in the chill air that still clung to his hair.
"Just tell me that you weren't carrying that around work, okay?" he begged,
squirming at the thought of what the Director would do if she saw Victor
carrying around the ancient symbol of fertility.
Vic made a retching noise before sweeping Mac back in a movie classic
ravishment pose. "Only for you do I wear silly green plants, babe; after
all, there isn't anyone else I'd even consider kissing—especially at work!"
he grinned. Bending over, he returned Mac's earlier kiss before sweeping him
back up.
"Work's done. The Dragon Lady, in a moment of unusual good humor, did a very
Christmassy thing and released us all from our enslavement—I mean work—
until the New Year. Actually Jacks says that Lady D's taken the Agency jet
and headed some place warm and tropical. Whatever the reason, we're free
until the second."
Heading into the kitchen, Vic poured himself a glass of eggnog and then
seasoned it with a little spiced rum. "Hey, babe, how would you feel about
inviting the other inmates of our cell block over for a little Christmas
cheer, say on the 23rd or so?"
Walking back into the living room, Vic stretched out on the sofa and, setting
his glass down first, pulled his lover onto his lap to nuzzle Mac's throat
seductively. "Whaddya say, baby? Shall we show them a gay man's version of
the Cleavers' Christmas?"
Mac snuggled back against Vic's chest, chuckling, as he snagged the tumbler
of eggnog and took a sip. "I'd say that was do-able," he murmured, arching
his neck and squirming against the growing bulge in Vic's jeans. "As long as
you promise not to wear an apron like the mom did."
He grinned and turned his face to nip Vic's ear. "And if you're the one to
ask Dobie and Nathan. I know how much you love both of them."
Snatching the eggnog back, Vic downed it in gulp, deciding he needed the
liquid courage. Him and his brilliant ideas! "Fine, but you can invite
Jacks and the Dragonlady if she's still around," he groused even as his hand
slid up underneath Mac's sweater to caress his taut stomach. "Enough talk
about the party, we can deal with it tomorrow. I have a sudden yen to
pretend to be Santa and watch you play with my north pole," Vic sniggered,
hands moving to undo Mac's Gap khakis.
"Thought you just said she went island-hopping..." Mac chuckled, the sound
turning into a throaty purr as Vic's hands slid under his pants and rubbed
over his growing erection.
"Mmm, don't I get to tell you what I want for Christmas first, Santa?" he
chuckled, imagining Victor dressed up in a red fur outfit, complete with
curly white beard and wig, and rosy red cheeks. Pulling Vic's hand out of his
pants, Mac swung around on his lover's lap so that he could look the older
man in the eyes. Rubbing his crotch against Vic's, he leaned in, and brushed
a kiss over his partner's lips. "You think I've been a good enough boy to get
what I want?"
"Oh, I think you've been naughty, young Mackenzie, very, very naughty. So
tell Santa what you want for Christmas, baby."
Vic quickly stripped his plaid shirt off and began to unbutton the top few
buttons of Mac's Henley, pulling it over the younger man's head enough to pin
his arms and give Vic full access to his lover's nipples. Bending, he rasped
his tongue across them, teasing the whorls of hair that got in his way.
"Mmmm—much better than milk and cookies, if I do say so. I am, however,
looking forward to some fresh 'cream'," Vic sniggered.
"My goodness, Santa," the younger man murmured, wriggling out of his shirt
and running his hands through Vic's hair, "I never knew you were a dirty old
man. It gives me a whole new appreciation for the season now."
Feeling Vic's teeth close around a nipple in response to that, Mac tugged at
his lover's hair until Vic looked up at him, then leaned in closer. "Want me
to get my list out? Or maybe I can just recite it from memory." He inched
closer, pulling Vic's body against his and nuzzling the older man's face.
"I want you. I want to be in you, under you, over you, you in me, behind, in
front of, next to. You're all I want, Vice-man, and all I need, forever."
Moaning, Vic felt blindly under the couch, looking for the tube of lubricant
they normally kept stuffed underneath. "That list," he panted as he nipped
the firm button in his mouth then laved the sting away with his tongue, "can
definitely be filled."
His hand finally latched onto the slippery tube, and as he pulled it out, he
swung himself up and off the couch, Mac still in his arms. Walking over to
the Christmas tree, he laid the younger man on the floor then stood for long
moments admiring Mac beneath the lights of the tree. "You're gorgeous. I
love you, baby," Vic smiled as he stripped off the rest of his clothes.
"Bad puns aside, sweetheart, I want our first Christmas to be memorable.
Call me a romantic old fool, but I do. And the idea of you spread naked and
glistening under the lights while the snow falls outside and a fire burns and
carols are playing, damn, it satisfies the romance and the burning need to
be buried so deep inside you that I'll never find my way out," Vic continued,
blushing slightly.
Lying down next to the younger man, Vic made quick work of Mac's clothes then
snuggled up next to his lover. "So, what does my little man want for his
first 'present'," Vic teased running a hand along Mac's lean flank to trail
up and down the younger man's cock lightly.
Mac had pushed up on his elbows, ready to pull Vic in for another kiss, when
the other man's words stopped him cold. "Little man?" he asked, biting his
lip to keep from snickering.
"Victor, can I remind you that this 'little man' is three inches taller than
you? Little man..." He gave in to his laughter and collapsed back on the
carpeting under the tree, holding his sides when they started hurting.
"Guess that means you don't want the present I got for you, hmmm?" Vic eyed
the younger man as he pulled out his pre-Christmas gift. Unwrapping the box,
he held up a mammoth candy cane for his lover. "All for you, baby, in a
manner of speaking," Vic grinned lasciviously.
The teen's eyes widened as far as possible, and he started scooting backwards
away from his lover. "Umm, just what are you thinking of doing with that
thing, Victor?"
"Trust me, love. You know I'd never do anything that wouldn't bring you
pleasure, don't you?" Vic soothed before crawling between Mac's legs once
more. "Relax, baby, close your eyes. Let me take care of you," Vic purred
as he set the treat aside.
Smiling as Mac nervously closed his eyes, Vic slithered down his lover until
the younger man's erection bobbed before his eyes. "So pretty," Vic husked as
he kissed its rosy tip, lapping the salty sweet precum that glistened.
Swallowing the younger man's cock, Vic snapped open the lid of the lube and
slicked two fingers even as he continued to use Mac's cock as a sort of
reverse pacifier, soothing and pleasuring his baby.
Swirling the now greasy fingers around the tiny pucker to Mac's body, he
worked at loosening and relaxing Mac, preparing him for the evil that Vic
envisioned. Damn, he'd have to get the Director to give him a copy of the
tape. Maybe she'd consider it a belated Christmas present, he thought to
himself. The visions dancing in his head were making him combustible.
The rocking of Mac's hips and the tiny whimpers and mews of need that were
coming from his parted lips let Vic know that his lover was beyond thought,
was totally needy. Removing his fingers, Vic picked up the two-inch-thick
candy cane and squirted some lube on it then, lifting his head from his
lover's cock so he could watch, slid the candy stick inside his baby.
"Oh sweet Jesus," Vic gasped as electric need scorched him. Mac lay impaled
on a candy cane, of all things, writhing and moaning as the sweet Christmas
treat fucked him. Vic's hand flew to his cock, and he began to pump hard and
fast; he was so turned on he was ready to burst. "Oh Mac, if you had any
idea of how you look, oh my baby, my pretty, pretty baby," Vic growled, eyes
gone black with heat.
"Vi—oh shit—God—there—don't believe—you..." Unable to form a
coherent thought let alone a complete sentence, Mac squirmed, caught between
Victor's blazing eyes and the makeshift dildo that was filling him. The
peppermint oil worked through the lube, sending his body into new contortions
as the cool burn permeated his ass, spreading up to his balls where the stick
brushed occasionally.
Reaching frantically for his own cock, brought from simple arousal to the
bone-jarring need to come in a manner of seconds, Mac traded words for
guttural moans as he jacked himself off. His hips arched against the sweet
pressure filling him, and Mac howled as the peppermint brushed his prostate.
Tightening his hand, stroking roughly, his hand moving in time with Vic's
almost brutal strokes of his own flesh, Mac wailed his lover's name. His body
clenched, and he arched up off the carpeting, his back bowing as his come
spurted out over his belly, a few droplets landing in his chest hair and
glistening in the multi-colored lights on the tree.
"Victor!" The older man's name was a raspy cry as Mac reached blindly for
Vic, his free hand twining with his lover's and stroking him to completion
even as his own body shuddered from his orgasm.
Vic's body jerked as he bellowed out his climax, both his and Mac's hands
milking him to completion. Collapsing on his lover's body, he pulled the
candy cane out and, bringing it to his lips even as Mac watched, licked it
clean.
Dropping the cane next to them, he turned to lick his cream off the younger
man's stomach and through the chest hair to sugar sweet nipples. "Mmm,
delicious baby. So did you like your Christmas present, my love?"
Mac lay there for a moment, still except for the rapid rise and fall of his
chest, spent. Once he could move again, he smiled, lifting a hand to stroke
Vic's cheek, tickling the small hoop in his ear with his pinkie.
"Is that all I get?" he asked, trying to pout but failing miserably at it.
"Or is this a twelve days of Christmas thing. You know—on the first day of
Christmas, my true love gave to me, a boffing under the tree."
Vic groaned and shook his head. "And you said my puns were bad?" he chortled
before nuzzling his lover's neck gently. "You'll have to wait for Christmas
morning for the rest, baby. I have to keep a few surprises for you."
Rolling them over, Vic reluctantly let himself push off of Mac's delicious
body and drew the younger man to his feet. "Come to bed, Mac. I want to
cuddle under the covers and watch the snow fall outside. This Christmas is
making me kinda corny, I guess, but I've never had one as perfect as this
before."
December 25th, morning
A flurry of paper and tissue littered the floor as all the smaller presents
lay around the two men. There were even gifts from Alice and Vic's mother as
well as, God help them, the Director. Vic's eyes strayed nervously towards
the last gift he had for Mac, the one he'd hidden between the branches of
their tree. Now or never, Mansfield, he ordered himself as he stood to
retrieve the last gift.
Taking the black velvet box from its hiding place, Vic took one of Mac's
hands and placed the box in it then waited impatiently for the younger man to
open it.
Feeling somewhat silly as he knew he'd been acting like a fool over each gift
but not caring in the least, Mac eyed the jewelry box before raising his eyes
to meet his lover's gaze. "Been ripping off the stores again, Vice-man?" he
teased gently before reaching under the sofa and pulling out the hand-sized,
rectangular box that held Vic's last present as well.
"Guess we should do this at the same time," he continued, trying to sound
nonchalant but failing utterly in the effort. Truth be told, Mac had gotten
just as much excitement out of watching Vic's reaction to his gifts as from
opening his own, and he somehow knew that, sooner or later, Vic was going to
tease him about it.
Waiting until Victor had carefully unwrapped the silver wrapping paper from
around his gift to open his own box, Mac peered in at the heavy ring nestled
on the lush black velvet. His time as a jewel thief made appraising the band
and its stone an easy task, but it was the implications of the design that
stole his breath away.
Carefully lifting the ring from the box, Mac stared at it, running a finger
gently over the hands, crown and the carved gemstone heart. The sound of
Victor opening his own box drew the former thief's attention, and he wrenched
his gaze away from his gift to see Vic's reaction to his present, though his
fingers closed tightly around the platinum band as if he was fearful it would
vanish when he looked away from it.
"Mac, what, how?" Vic grinned up at his lover happily as he slid the shades
on his face. "You're taking me to the Monterey Jazz festival, oh baby,
that's..."
Vic's eyes darkened as he peeled off the glasses to look at the way Mac was
holding the ring, and he dropped the box to move over to his lover. Taking
the ring out of Mac's clenched fingers, Vic slid it on the younger man's left
ring finger. "I heard about this law they just passed in Holland. It lets
same sex couples marry legally. I know it won't hold up here in Canada. but
maybe when you graduate... you'd like to take a trip?" Vic murmured, ducking
his head self-consciously and praying to whatever gods existed that he wasn't
making a complete ass out of himself.
"You—" Mac was unable to say anything else, though his gaze bounced from
Vic to the ring, then back again. "V-Victor, you're saying you..."
The fact that he couldn't see Vic's face was driving the young man nuts, and
he lifted his right hand to tilt his lover's face up and into the light.
Smiling a bit tremulously, realizing that this was another bit of uncharted
territory they were exploring together, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I'd like to
take that trip a lot."
Pushing up onto his knees, Mac cradled Vic's face between his palms, staring
into his eyes. "I love you, Victor Mansfield. Yesterday, today and tomorrow,
nothing will ever change that, but this..." he rubbed his thumb over the wide
band, then bit his lower lip. "Wow."
"I love you too, Mac Ramsey. Marry me?" Vic finally managed to get out.
Relief flooded through him, and his heartbeat was so fast he thought he'd
pass out. "I want you mine as legally as I can get you. I want to be yours
too. I love you so much, baby. You've given me a life I can be proud of,
one I want to share. I..." At a loss for words to describe all that he was
feeling, he took his lover's hand, the one now wearing the ring, and pressed
it against his heart. "You live here. Always."
"Victor..." Mac's throat clenched, and he fought the urge to swipe at his
eyes, instead, blinking furiously to clear them. "You..." His fingers
clenched, pressing against the solid warmth of Vic's chest.
"You are such a dork, but God, I love you." Pulling Vic close again, Mac
kissed him, gently pressing their lips together, the kiss almost solemn, and
a promise of what was to come.
ic Mansfield, big, bad ex-cop turned secret Agency man, nearly whimpered
with terror as he walked through the main doors to the Eaton Centre and was
inundated by a cacophony of noise, light and people—hundreds, if not
thousands of people. He nearly turned around and walked back out again.
Going shopping two weeks before Christmas was suicide; it was even worse than
squaring off against the Director.
