His announcement rang out cheers from the crowd, confirming once and for all that he was passing the reins to my stepbrother Nick, also not a surprise.

From the time I set foot in the village, everyone hailed Nick as the future of Christmas, the pride of our family.

With my heavy metal tunes blaring and my carefree attitude, I stood out as the outsider, dampening the Christmas cheer. The village’s very own Scrooge.

The people in the village meticulously planned and cultivated everything. Children followed their parents into family run careers and everything kept rotating like a never ending wheel of doom.

I was a wrench in the cog of their uniformity. I didn’t fit. Since Nick would follow in our parents’ footsteps, what job could they possibly assign to me?

That is how I landed in the garage. Well, almost.

At seventeen, I had taken it upon myself to offer the village some redecorating in the form of a new mural painted on the side of the sleigh garage.

I was standing back, admiring my handiwork, taking in the scene of a female elf being spit roasted by two reindeer. The garage door suddenly swung open and Arthur, the current sleigh mechanic, emerged.

I froze, waiting for the backlash, but Arthur just assessed my painting skills and chuckled to himself before clasping me on the back, inviting me into his workshop.

The tools were mesmerizing, and I had found a purpose in being able to make something useful again with my hands.

When the sleigh wasn’t in need of maintenance, we ensured all the village machines and transportation were up and running.

My first job, after repainting the garage wall before anyone could see it, was to touch up the paint on the sleigh decals. The gold swirls were intricate and detailed, and I found myself entranced.

From then on I had spent every moment I wasn’t required at school or with my family locked in this shed, fixing, building, painting.

I couldn’t stop my mind from slipping back to Nick. Despite his inevitable path following his father, I had no genuine issues with him.

The only thing that bothered me was the way my chest tightened and ached whenever he was close to me, and the fact my dick never forgot to remind me of his existence.

An insatiable, constant, gnawing sensation that never went away. 

I had fucked my way through half of the elves my age, men and women alike, but there was something about the stupid fucking twinkle in Nick’s eye whenever he caught me looking at him, that had my fists clenching with the sudden need to throw him over my knee and spank the shit out of his ass till it was as red as the tip of Rudolph’s nose.

My thoughts snapped back to reality as the door swung back open with a crash and Arthur entered, lugging in a bunch of unknown sleigh parts.

“I just saw Teddy tearing through the middle of the village,” he said with a chuckle, “that wouldn’t have anything to do with a visit to you now would it?”

I shrug, and huffing out a laugh, took one last drag on my smoke and put it out in the empty beer can on my bench. “Teddy seems to have his panties in a twist that we won’t finish in time.”

Grabbing one of the new air filters from Arthur’s cart, I lay myself back on the creeper and push myself back under the sleigh. The four-foot elf stops my gliding and drags me back out, now peering down at me in grease stained overalls.

“You called him Theodore, didn’t you?” The shit-eating grin that split my face makes his shoulders bounce with his contained laughter and he shakes his head.

“You’re an asshole, you know that.”

“Hey! I’ll stop calling him Theodore when he stops calling me Kristopher.” Arthur’s smile softens as he looks me over and I move to push myself back under the sleigh, to avoid this touchy feely moment but I’m once again pulled back out.

“Sorry son, but you’ve been summoned to join everyone up at the house.” His pitying look has me turning away. He, more than anyone, knew how uncomfortable I felt in that house.

Though I was still required to live there, Arthur was always the first to provide me with cover to get out of as many things as I could as a teen, but now at twenty-nine there was no escaping.

Fucking great. Nothing like dinner with the family.

This is going to be a long fucking Christmas.

Chapter twoNick

December 20th

“Can you take those potatoes to the table, love?” Carol, my stepmother, hands me an enormous bowl of butter drenched mashed potatoes.

“Sure.” With a gentle kiss on the cheek, she hands me the hot bowl, and I can feel the heat radiating through my fingers.

She cups my cheek and thanks me, her eyes lingering on the stubble that’s appearing. “You’re becoming more and more like your father.” Making a humming noise, she runs her hand over the rough salt and pepper hairs that are  sadly looking more salt than pepper. A family trait or so I’ve been told.

Whenever I hear the comparison, my heart constricts with a mix of emotions. In the lineage of Santa Claus, my father holds the record for being the youngest Santa Claus ever, while I, at thirty-one, am poised to become the oldest Santa Claus in history.

When his father suddenly died on his way back to the North Pole on Christmas Day, my father was forced to take over the role at barely eighteen.

Although this time of year is what we spent the entire year working towards, it is tainted with an incredible amount of sadness for my father. The loss he experienced only grew worse when we tragically lost my mother in a sledding accident during the week leading up to Christmas, when I was just ten-years-old.

Losing two of the most important people in his life had made him feel bitter about the whole thing. I even remembered a time when he debated quitting and letting another family take over the role.

That was the year he met Carol. Their whirlwind romance had blown us all away, and after more than a decade, they were still so utterly in love. I guess when you meet the right person, you just know.

I often found myself jealous of their love, having a person to come home to and share your life with. I had assumed I would just find somebody. By my age, my father had already settled down with my mother, who lived in a nearby village, and I was on my way into the world.

I had zero prospects.

My future title, as Santa Claus, intimidated everyone too much to even attempt anything romantic with me. Sure, everyone wanted to fuck the future Santa, but in reality, no one wanted to stick around and love him.

I made my way through the kitchen to the dining room table. My thoughts spinning about my future came to a crashing halt when the front door flew open and my stepbrother Kris walks in.

As he enters the dining room, my jaw drops open involuntarily. I’m captivated by the sight of him, bare chested with his overalls tied loosely around his waist. My eyes lock on his tight pecs, which almost seem to flex under my scrutiny.

My eyes betray me as they continue their inspection, lowering to the smooth muscles of his abs that cut sharply in. A path for my eyes to follow, leading directly to the spot I was aching for but forbidden to touch.

I wasn’t sure if my brain had imagined the light dusting of dark hair at the end of that v, or if his overalls were tied so low that it could be seen.

The smear of grease that traveled from his collarbone over to one nipple made me lick my lips. I could imagine his calloused hands marking my body, making me as dirty as he is.

Tripping, I stumble into the dining chair before not so casually catching myself and placing the potatoes into the middle of the table. Thanking every God that I didn’t throw a bowl of steaming mash all over myself.

Looking up, I gave Kris a quick nod, trying my best to ignore the smirk tugging at the  corner of his lips, and the way his gaze traveled down my body before stopping on the bulge now growing in my suit pants.

“Kris,” Carol exclaimed as she came through the large entryway into the dining room, causing me to jump. Carrying a roast chicken on a large platter, which she hands to me so she can properly greet her son. I take the distraction to gather my incredibly stupid thoughts as I place it on the table next to the mash.

“Hey Ma.” The husky timbre of his voice has me gripping the back of the chair to stop myself from drifting towards him. I don’t know what it was about Kris, but he had always pulled these reactions from my body.