The tiger padded slowly through the snow-shrouded forest.
There was no need for stealth, not yet anyway. A small flock of
crows flew upward into the trees with a squawking, angry protest, and the tiger paused, testing the
air. His nostrils flared as he took in the scents around him: the rich, loamy smell of dead leaves and
earth beneath the light covering of snow, the crisp promise of more snow to come on the wind from
the west. When the wind shifted, he could smell wood smoke and the scent of a small group of deer
moving along the top of the ridge.
He lifted his head in that direction, tracking the slight movement of brown bodies against brown
foliage along the hillside. The deer tracked single file in a stately manner—they hadn’t scented him
yet. He eyed the distance, knowing it was too far. Tigers were built for stealth, not speed.
Besides, he had different prey in mind.
He turned back to the track he was following, placing each massive paw carefully along the trail
as he moved. When he reached the clearing, he paused again.
Below him was a small pond, frozen over now and dusted with snow. The air was still with that
hushed expectation that precedes more snowfall, and the skies were leaden and gray. Behind him,
large paw prints clearly marked the course of his passage, showing up as dark patches of mud
where the weight of his body churned up the thin layer of snow. That was all right, too. It would
snow again soon and obliterate any signs that he’d been there.
He was patient. He could wait.
He made his way down the small slope to the pond and chose his hiding place with care.
***
Alex was angry. Angry with Tate, but more angry with himself. He seldom got angry, so it pissed
him off even further. Which lead him back to thinking this was all Tate’s fault.
A big, beautiful, green
eyed tiger stares into the
camera. Several palm
leaves lay shadows
across his face.
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
242
After stewing in the hours since Tate stormed out, saying he needed ‘some air’, Alex decided that
he, too, needed to clear his head. He slipped on the navy wool coat he’d been using since the
weather turned colder and wrapped his dark muffler around his neck. Even though he could hear
Tate’s voice in his head, telling him he’d stay warmer if he wore a hat, Alex chose to remain
bareheaded. Unless it was a fedora, hats made him crazy and, unfortunately, fedoras were no
longer in style.
That was a shame, he thought. Everyone looked good in a fedora.
Alex stepped out onto the back porch and paused to retrieve leather gloves from his pockets and
put them on. It had been snowing for the last several hours now; this, on top of last night’s snow,
left everything looking deceptively clean and pristine. He debated for a moment as to which
direction to take and then decided to head into the woods toward the pond.
The image of Tate, his bright, auburn hair covered with a sexy, Indiana Jones style fedora, flashed
into his mind. It would so work on Tate, who was the outdoors type anyway. While Alex enjoyed
the occasional casual walk in the woods, Tate was always trying to get him to go rock-climbing,
spelunking, or some equally athletic pursuit. Thank goodness, Tate also liked hanging around the
fireplace in the evenings, reading a book or listening to music. Otherwise, Alex might start to
wonder what the two of them had in common.
Case in point: the disagreement this morning.
“What do you mean, you don’t do Christmas?” Tate had been adorably incredulous. Alex had
been both irritated and charmed at the same time. The very fact that Tate treated him as just
another person was part of his attraction, Alex was sure.
“I’m a vampire, remember? According to most religions, that makes me the bad guy. Sort of the
antithesis of Christmas, don’t you think?”
“I’m guessing this means you don’t celebrate Hanukkah instead?” Tate, as usual, had been quick
to turn things into a joke.
Alex hadn’t been in the mood. Sometimes, Tate’s relentless <I>cheerfulness</I> got on his
nerves.
Tate had been persistent, however. “You mean to tell me there’s some kind of vampire ban on
celebrating holidays?”
He hadn’t been willing to accept Alex's “it’s just not us” as an answer.
“Come on,” he’d wheedled. “Holidays aren’t just about religious observances, you know. Or
giving gifts, or stuffing yourself silly with food. It’s about getting together with your family and
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
243
friends and showing them how much you care about them. Let’s throw a party. We can invite Nick
and his pack. Hell, we can even invite Julie.”
Alex had blinked at that. Peter’s sister had made herself somewhat scarce, ever since the big
showdown with Alex’s ex-lover Victor a few months ago. Alex had assumed that Julie had gone
back to the suburbs to pretend that her brother wasn’t really a werewolf and that he didn’t
associate with vampires either.
“Why don’t I dress up as Santa as well? That makes about as much sense.”
“Wrong holiday special.” Tate’s comeback, as always, had been swift. “You’re Scrooge through
and through.”
That had stung a bit, he had to admit as he walked deeper into the woods.
With his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the wind, Alex
crossed the border of the yard into the woods. A small deer path was distinguishable through the
trees and he followed it, knowing it would eventually lead him to the pond. The air around him
seemed muted with the falling snow. He felt the cold dampness on his face and thought it unfair
that he, among all his friends, was the only one who felt the cold.
His words to Tate came back to him. The conversation had ended abruptly with Tate leaving the
house—not so much as in a huff, but definitely not pleased with Alex. He’d been left wondering if
they’d had their first fight.
The thought depressed him. Though they hadn’t known each other all that long, it was amazing
how important Tate had become to Alex. He couldn’t imagine a day in which Tate didn’t drop by at
some point, and he’d gone from being relieved that Tate wanted to maintain separate living
arrangements to being bored and lonely whenever Tate was off doing his own thing.
How had Tate managed to worm his way under Alex’s skin when no one else had done so in
centuries of living?
He’d reached the pond almost without being aware of it, so deep was he in his own thoughts. He
looked down the slope toward the water. It had a little dock and a bench for fishing. He and Tate
had talked about restocking it in the spring. He couldn’t see the appeal of fishing himself, but when
Tate spoke of it, something about it made him want to share that experience with Tate. It certainly
seemed to entail less effort than rock climbing, that was for sure.
He paused for a moment to look up at the dull, pewter-colored sky. Snowflakes continued to
drift down lazily, but no further accumulation had been predicted. Below him, the surface of the
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
244
pond had been blown clean of most of the snow. His breath plumed in a vapor before him and an
unaccustomed sense of peace came over him.
What difference did it make if Tate wanted to celebrate the holidays anyway? It was no skin off
his nose either way. Maybe he <I>was</I> just being a Scrooge.
Having achieved what he’d come out for in the first place, he debated returning to the house, but
decided that since he’d come this far, he might as well go down to the pond. He carefully made his
way down the slope, conscious that his shoes weren’t really the best for this sort of activity; if he
wanted to keep up with Tate, he might need to invest in some hiking boots. <i>One thing at a
time</I>, he thought to himself with a smile.
***
The tiger lifted his head at the sound of the approach of his prey. He shifted his weight slightly,
so as to bunch his feet up underneath him, his muscles ready at long last to hurl himself forward at
his target. His tail flicked at the tip as his prey came into sight.
<I>Wait for it. Wait for it</I>.
***
Alex's superior sense of hearing alerted him at the last second to the sibilant sound of movement
off to his left. He turned his head in time to see the unbelievable: a full-grown Siberian tiger
suddenly lifted itself up from the snow-covered foliage surrounding it. Its dense fur, coated with a
light layer of snow, spoke of how long it had lain in wait. The large cat exploded out of the
underbrush with frightening speed; Alex had just a second in which to turn and throw one arm in
front of his face before the big cat ploughed into him, pinning him to the ground.
Eight hundred pounds of jungle cat flattened him into the snow-covered earth. Had he been
human and not vampire, ribs would have broken. As it was, the tiger settled on top of him and he
was having trouble breathing.
He lifted his head from where it rested on his forearm and glanced to the side at the enormous
paw that had his shoulder pinned to the ground. Long claws extended, sinking into the thick wool
of his coat and all the way through to his skin. At the back of his neck, he could feel the warm
breath of the tiger as it nosed under his muffler, seeking his flesh. He could hear the soft chuffing
sound as he felt the test bite of the tiger on his shoulder. The massive hindquarters thrust up
against him suddenly, and he felt the claws dig in reflexively at his shoulders.
There weren’t many things that could kill a vampire, but Alex hadn’t been living the Life and was
more vulnerable than most. The knowledge that he could die here, under the tiger’s paws, caused
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
245
the adrenaline to pump through his body. Unbelievably, he felt both excited and in fear of his life—
he was even starting to get hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive.
Just when breathing was becoming a bit of an issue, the tiger got to its feet and moved off him.
Cautiously, Alex lifted his head and looked around for the big cat. Seeing that it stood a few feet
away from him, Alex rolled over onto his back and let out his breath with a rush.
The tiger watched him, tail flicking slowly.
Alex got to his feet slowly, brushing off leaf litter and snow, inspecting his coat before speaking
to the tiger.
“If you’ve ruined another coat,” he warned, “I will turn you into a hearth-rug.”
The tiger yawned widely, showing its long fangs.
“Oh, very impressed, I’m sure.” Alex straightened his coat and ran a gloved hand through his
hair. “Can we go home now?”
For an answer, the tiger began to trot off toward the house. Grumbling under his breath, Alex
followed.
***
There was no sign of the tiger when Alex mounted the back porch stairs. There were giant paw
prints on the porch where the snow had blown in, but all was silent when he opened the screen
door and entered the house.
Alex removed his muffler and gloves, and hung his coat up in the hall closet. In the living room, a
fire glowed in the hearth, the bright orange flames just starting to lick at the edges of the logs. An
open bottle of merlot sat on the side table, along with two wine glasses.
Amused, Alex crossed over to the wine, lifting a glass and taking a sip. “I’m willing to hear what
you have to say,” he said aloud to the empty room. “You don’t have to butter me up.”
“Pity.” Tate’s voice came from behind him. “I like buttering you up.”
Alex turned with a smile on his face, only to let his mouth fall open at the sight of Tate standing
there.
Tate had made good use of his time in getting back to the house first. Not only had he lit the fire
and decanted the wine, but he’d also removed his wet clothing. He was still wearing the blue and
black flannel shirt from that morning, but that was <I>all</I> he was wearing.
The soft flannel shirt hung open to reveal Tate’s toned chest and abdomen, lightly dusted with
reddish hair, and the rolled up sleeves showed off Tate’s muscular forearms. Alex was immediately
captivated by the sight of Tate’s strong thighs, pale skin, and the way his cock jutted forward from a
thatch of rusty-brown hair.
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
246
“Butter,” Alex said decisively, “goes with everything.”
Tate laughed. “I just can’t carry off seductive, can I?”
“No, no!” Alex took a hasty swallow of the wine and set it down. “Seduce me, I beg you.”
Tate got a speculative look in his eye and took a step closer. “Really?” he asked.
Alex nodded. “You know that moment in the woods? When you had me pinned and you could
have killed me at any moment? That was… hot.”
Tate moved forward another stealthy step. The gaze he fixed on Alex was that of a predator.
Alex could feel the tension simmering in the air between them, and his cock shifted and thrummed
in his jeans.
“Yeah,” Alex breathed, never taking his eyes off Tate. “The whole time you had me pinned down,
I knew you could kill me if you wanted. At the same time, I was incredibly turned on. I could feel
your breath on my neck. I wanted to feel your teeth on my skin.”
Tate closed the remaining distance between them with purpose, his cock bouncing a little with
every step. He took Alex by either side of his face and kissed him hard, the coarse hairs of his
weekend beard rasping against Alex’s skin. “Suck me,” he demanded with a smile against Alex’s
lips.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Alex quickly unzipped his jeans and freed his cock, grateful for the
decision not to wear any briefs this morning. Weekends with Tate seemed to make him think in
these terms.
He began working his cock, bringing it to full hardness, as Tate dropped his head to watch. They
were standing so close now that the heads of their cocks could brush each other, and Alex
deliberately brought them into contact.
Taking hold of Tate’s cock in his left hand, he rubbed their heads together, mingling precome
until the two cockheads were slick with it. Then he began pushing his foreskin forward until he had
covered the head of Tate’s cock as well.
Docking was one of his favorite things to do with Tate. He’d fantasized about before they’d ever
started sleeping together. Tate’s cock slide alongside his own, up under his foreskin, and he clasped
the two together and began to jack them off simultaneously.
Tate’s hands gripped his shoulders. Alex could make out the sheen of sweat that had appeared
on his chest, and he marveled with inner smugness at the way Tate half-closed his eyes and let his
mouth drop open. It was too good an invitation to resist.
Alex leaned in, claiming Tate’s mouth and his generous, full lips, even as he continued to
maintain the rhythm between them. The slip of tongues against each other was no different from
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
247
the slide of their cocks together. Alex swallowed Tate’s moan as he kept working the connection
between them. He began to thrust with his pelvis, adding a heartfelt groan as he felt the mounting
arc of pleasure.
Tate broke the kiss first, fingers digging into Alex’s sweater as though he were still the tiger, his
head tipping back and the muscles on his neck cording as he came. Warm fluid surrounded Alex’s
cock and he felt the pulsing tremors as Tate emptied himself into his foreskin. It was all he could do
to keep standing, to keep from sinking his teeth into Tate’s neck. His own orgasm was close and yet
seemed just out of reach.
Tate gave him a sleepy-lidded smile and leaned into his shoulder, turning his nose into Alex’s
neck. Without warning, he bit down hard.
The flash of pleasure-pain arched through Alex and straight to his cock. His spine went rigid as
he tensed, his ass muscles clenching as he shuddered and came.
They held each other up afterward.
“Damn,” Tate breathed into his ear at last. “You always know how to get to me.”
“What about you?” Alex gave a breathless laugh. “I thought biting was my line.”
“Can’t let you have all the fun.” He made a noise of regret when Alex released his grip on the two
of them and they slipped apart.
“You can bite me any time,” Alex said, watching as Tate’s pupils dilated at his words and feeling
the corresponding twitch in his cock.
They continued to provide each other support. Tate rested his hand on Alex’s hips while Alex
rested his forearms on Tate’s shoulders.
“So, when do you want to hold this party?” Alex asked.
Tate lifted his head in surprise. “Really? You want to go through with it? Alex, you won’t regret
it, I promise.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Alex warned, as he nuzzled the side of Tate’s neck and
smelled the blood thrumming there, just underneath the skin. “This is just round one of
negotiations. Give me an hour or two to recover and we can discuss the guest list.”
Tate gave a soft laugh, not unlike his tiger’s chuff. He pulled Alex in for a kiss. “Promises,
promises,” he said with a smile.
There was no need for stealth, not yet anyway. A small flock of
crows flew upward into the trees with a squawking, angry protest, and the tiger paused, testing the
air. His nostrils flared as he took in the scents around him: the rich, loamy smell of dead leaves and
earth beneath the light covering of snow, the crisp promise of more snow to come on the wind from
the west. When the wind shifted, he could smell wood smoke and the scent of a small group of deer
moving along the top of the ridge.
He lifted his head in that direction, tracking the slight movement of brown bodies against brown
foliage along the hillside. The deer tracked single file in a stately manner—they hadn’t scented him
yet. He eyed the distance, knowing it was too far. Tigers were built for stealth, not speed.
Besides, he had different prey in mind.
He turned back to the track he was following, placing each massive paw carefully along the trail
as he moved. When he reached the clearing, he paused again.
Below him was a small pond, frozen over now and dusted with snow. The air was still with that
hushed expectation that precedes more snowfall, and the skies were leaden and gray. Behind him,
large paw prints clearly marked the course of his passage, showing up as dark patches of mud
where the weight of his body churned up the thin layer of snow. That was all right, too. It would
snow again soon and obliterate any signs that he’d been there.
He was patient. He could wait.
He made his way down the small slope to the pond and chose his hiding place with care.
***
Alex was angry. Angry with Tate, but more angry with himself. He seldom got angry, so it pissed
him off even further. Which lead him back to thinking this was all Tate’s fault.
A big, beautiful, green
eyed tiger stares into the
camera. Several palm
leaves lay shadows
across his face.
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
242
After stewing in the hours since Tate stormed out, saying he needed ‘some air’, Alex decided that
he, too, needed to clear his head. He slipped on the navy wool coat he’d been using since the
weather turned colder and wrapped his dark muffler around his neck. Even though he could hear
Tate’s voice in his head, telling him he’d stay warmer if he wore a hat, Alex chose to remain
bareheaded. Unless it was a fedora, hats made him crazy and, unfortunately, fedoras were no
longer in style.
That was a shame, he thought. Everyone looked good in a fedora.
Alex stepped out onto the back porch and paused to retrieve leather gloves from his pockets and
put them on. It had been snowing for the last several hours now; this, on top of last night’s snow,
left everything looking deceptively clean and pristine. He debated for a moment as to which
direction to take and then decided to head into the woods toward the pond.
The image of Tate, his bright, auburn hair covered with a sexy, Indiana Jones style fedora, flashed
into his mind. It would so work on Tate, who was the outdoors type anyway. While Alex enjoyed
the occasional casual walk in the woods, Tate was always trying to get him to go rock-climbing,
spelunking, or some equally athletic pursuit. Thank goodness, Tate also liked hanging around the
fireplace in the evenings, reading a book or listening to music. Otherwise, Alex might start to
wonder what the two of them had in common.
Case in point: the disagreement this morning.
“What do you mean, you don’t do Christmas?” Tate had been adorably incredulous. Alex had
been both irritated and charmed at the same time. The very fact that Tate treated him as just
another person was part of his attraction, Alex was sure.
“I’m a vampire, remember? According to most religions, that makes me the bad guy. Sort of the
antithesis of Christmas, don’t you think?”
“I’m guessing this means you don’t celebrate Hanukkah instead?” Tate, as usual, had been quick
to turn things into a joke.
Alex hadn’t been in the mood. Sometimes, Tate’s relentless <I>cheerfulness</I> got on his
nerves.
Tate had been persistent, however. “You mean to tell me there’s some kind of vampire ban on
celebrating holidays?”
He hadn’t been willing to accept Alex's “it’s just not us” as an answer.
“Come on,” he’d wheedled. “Holidays aren’t just about religious observances, you know. Or
giving gifts, or stuffing yourself silly with food. It’s about getting together with your family and
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
243
friends and showing them how much you care about them. Let’s throw a party. We can invite Nick
and his pack. Hell, we can even invite Julie.”
Alex had blinked at that. Peter’s sister had made herself somewhat scarce, ever since the big
showdown with Alex’s ex-lover Victor a few months ago. Alex had assumed that Julie had gone
back to the suburbs to pretend that her brother wasn’t really a werewolf and that he didn’t
associate with vampires either.
“Why don’t I dress up as Santa as well? That makes about as much sense.”
“Wrong holiday special.” Tate’s comeback, as always, had been swift. “You’re Scrooge through
and through.”
That had stung a bit, he had to admit as he walked deeper into the woods.
With his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the wind, Alex
crossed the border of the yard into the woods. A small deer path was distinguishable through the
trees and he followed it, knowing it would eventually lead him to the pond. The air around him
seemed muted with the falling snow. He felt the cold dampness on his face and thought it unfair
that he, among all his friends, was the only one who felt the cold.
His words to Tate came back to him. The conversation had ended abruptly with Tate leaving the
house—not so much as in a huff, but definitely not pleased with Alex. He’d been left wondering if
they’d had their first fight.
The thought depressed him. Though they hadn’t known each other all that long, it was amazing
how important Tate had become to Alex. He couldn’t imagine a day in which Tate didn’t drop by at
some point, and he’d gone from being relieved that Tate wanted to maintain separate living
arrangements to being bored and lonely whenever Tate was off doing his own thing.
How had Tate managed to worm his way under Alex’s skin when no one else had done so in
centuries of living?
He’d reached the pond almost without being aware of it, so deep was he in his own thoughts. He
looked down the slope toward the water. It had a little dock and a bench for fishing. He and Tate
had talked about restocking it in the spring. He couldn’t see the appeal of fishing himself, but when
Tate spoke of it, something about it made him want to share that experience with Tate. It certainly
seemed to entail less effort than rock climbing, that was for sure.
He paused for a moment to look up at the dull, pewter-colored sky. Snowflakes continued to
drift down lazily, but no further accumulation had been predicted. Below him, the surface of the
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
244
pond had been blown clean of most of the snow. His breath plumed in a vapor before him and an
unaccustomed sense of peace came over him.
What difference did it make if Tate wanted to celebrate the holidays anyway? It was no skin off
his nose either way. Maybe he <I>was</I> just being a Scrooge.
Having achieved what he’d come out for in the first place, he debated returning to the house, but
decided that since he’d come this far, he might as well go down to the pond. He carefully made his
way down the slope, conscious that his shoes weren’t really the best for this sort of activity; if he
wanted to keep up with Tate, he might need to invest in some hiking boots. <i>One thing at a
time</I>, he thought to himself with a smile.
***
The tiger lifted his head at the sound of the approach of his prey. He shifted his weight slightly,
so as to bunch his feet up underneath him, his muscles ready at long last to hurl himself forward at
his target. His tail flicked at the tip as his prey came into sight.
<I>Wait for it. Wait for it</I>.
***
Alex's superior sense of hearing alerted him at the last second to the sibilant sound of movement
off to his left. He turned his head in time to see the unbelievable: a full-grown Siberian tiger
suddenly lifted itself up from the snow-covered foliage surrounding it. Its dense fur, coated with a
light layer of snow, spoke of how long it had lain in wait. The large cat exploded out of the
underbrush with frightening speed; Alex had just a second in which to turn and throw one arm in
front of his face before the big cat ploughed into him, pinning him to the ground.
Eight hundred pounds of jungle cat flattened him into the snow-covered earth. Had he been
human and not vampire, ribs would have broken. As it was, the tiger settled on top of him and he
was having trouble breathing.
He lifted his head from where it rested on his forearm and glanced to the side at the enormous
paw that had his shoulder pinned to the ground. Long claws extended, sinking into the thick wool
of his coat and all the way through to his skin. At the back of his neck, he could feel the warm
breath of the tiger as it nosed under his muffler, seeking his flesh. He could hear the soft chuffing
sound as he felt the test bite of the tiger on his shoulder. The massive hindquarters thrust up
against him suddenly, and he felt the claws dig in reflexively at his shoulders.
There weren’t many things that could kill a vampire, but Alex hadn’t been living the Life and was
more vulnerable than most. The knowledge that he could die here, under the tiger’s paws, caused
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
245
the adrenaline to pump through his body. Unbelievably, he felt both excited and in fear of his life—
he was even starting to get hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive.
Just when breathing was becoming a bit of an issue, the tiger got to its feet and moved off him.
Cautiously, Alex lifted his head and looked around for the big cat. Seeing that it stood a few feet
away from him, Alex rolled over onto his back and let out his breath with a rush.
The tiger watched him, tail flicking slowly.
Alex got to his feet slowly, brushing off leaf litter and snow, inspecting his coat before speaking
to the tiger.
“If you’ve ruined another coat,” he warned, “I will turn you into a hearth-rug.”
The tiger yawned widely, showing its long fangs.
“Oh, very impressed, I’m sure.” Alex straightened his coat and ran a gloved hand through his
hair. “Can we go home now?”
For an answer, the tiger began to trot off toward the house. Grumbling under his breath, Alex
followed.
***
There was no sign of the tiger when Alex mounted the back porch stairs. There were giant paw
prints on the porch where the snow had blown in, but all was silent when he opened the screen
door and entered the house.
Alex removed his muffler and gloves, and hung his coat up in the hall closet. In the living room, a
fire glowed in the hearth, the bright orange flames just starting to lick at the edges of the logs. An
open bottle of merlot sat on the side table, along with two wine glasses.
Amused, Alex crossed over to the wine, lifting a glass and taking a sip. “I’m willing to hear what
you have to say,” he said aloud to the empty room. “You don’t have to butter me up.”
“Pity.” Tate’s voice came from behind him. “I like buttering you up.”
Alex turned with a smile on his face, only to let his mouth fall open at the sight of Tate standing
there.
Tate had made good use of his time in getting back to the house first. Not only had he lit the fire
and decanted the wine, but he’d also removed his wet clothing. He was still wearing the blue and
black flannel shirt from that morning, but that was <I>all</I> he was wearing.
The soft flannel shirt hung open to reveal Tate’s toned chest and abdomen, lightly dusted with
reddish hair, and the rolled up sleeves showed off Tate’s muscular forearms. Alex was immediately
captivated by the sight of Tate’s strong thighs, pale skin, and the way his cock jutted forward from a
thatch of rusty-brown hair.
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
246
“Butter,” Alex said decisively, “goes with everything.”
Tate laughed. “I just can’t carry off seductive, can I?”
“No, no!” Alex took a hasty swallow of the wine and set it down. “Seduce me, I beg you.”
Tate got a speculative look in his eye and took a step closer. “Really?” he asked.
Alex nodded. “You know that moment in the woods? When you had me pinned and you could
have killed me at any moment? That was… hot.”
Tate moved forward another stealthy step. The gaze he fixed on Alex was that of a predator.
Alex could feel the tension simmering in the air between them, and his cock shifted and thrummed
in his jeans.
“Yeah,” Alex breathed, never taking his eyes off Tate. “The whole time you had me pinned down,
I knew you could kill me if you wanted. At the same time, I was incredibly turned on. I could feel
your breath on my neck. I wanted to feel your teeth on my skin.”
Tate closed the remaining distance between them with purpose, his cock bouncing a little with
every step. He took Alex by either side of his face and kissed him hard, the coarse hairs of his
weekend beard rasping against Alex’s skin. “Suck me,” he demanded with a smile against Alex’s
lips.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Alex quickly unzipped his jeans and freed his cock, grateful for the
decision not to wear any briefs this morning. Weekends with Tate seemed to make him think in
these terms.
He began working his cock, bringing it to full hardness, as Tate dropped his head to watch. They
were standing so close now that the heads of their cocks could brush each other, and Alex
deliberately brought them into contact.
Taking hold of Tate’s cock in his left hand, he rubbed their heads together, mingling precome
until the two cockheads were slick with it. Then he began pushing his foreskin forward until he had
covered the head of Tate’s cock as well.
Docking was one of his favorite things to do with Tate. He’d fantasized about before they’d ever
started sleeping together. Tate’s cock slide alongside his own, up under his foreskin, and he clasped
the two together and began to jack them off simultaneously.
Tate’s hands gripped his shoulders. Alex could make out the sheen of sweat that had appeared
on his chest, and he marveled with inner smugness at the way Tate half-closed his eyes and let his
mouth drop open. It was too good an invitation to resist.
Alex leaned in, claiming Tate’s mouth and his generous, full lips, even as he continued to
maintain the rhythm between them. The slip of tongues against each other was no different from
Stuff My Stocking: M/M Romance Stories that are Nice and… Naughty
247
the slide of their cocks together. Alex swallowed Tate’s moan as he kept working the connection
between them. He began to thrust with his pelvis, adding a heartfelt groan as he felt the mounting
arc of pleasure.
Tate broke the kiss first, fingers digging into Alex’s sweater as though he were still the tiger, his
head tipping back and the muscles on his neck cording as he came. Warm fluid surrounded Alex’s
cock and he felt the pulsing tremors as Tate emptied himself into his foreskin. It was all he could do
to keep standing, to keep from sinking his teeth into Tate’s neck. His own orgasm was close and yet
seemed just out of reach.
Tate gave him a sleepy-lidded smile and leaned into his shoulder, turning his nose into Alex’s
neck. Without warning, he bit down hard.
The flash of pleasure-pain arched through Alex and straight to his cock. His spine went rigid as
he tensed, his ass muscles clenching as he shuddered and came.
They held each other up afterward.
“Damn,” Tate breathed into his ear at last. “You always know how to get to me.”
“What about you?” Alex gave a breathless laugh. “I thought biting was my line.”
“Can’t let you have all the fun.” He made a noise of regret when Alex released his grip on the two
of them and they slipped apart.
“You can bite me any time,” Alex said, watching as Tate’s pupils dilated at his words and feeling
the corresponding twitch in his cock.
They continued to provide each other support. Tate rested his hand on Alex’s hips while Alex
rested his forearms on Tate’s shoulders.
“So, when do you want to hold this party?” Alex asked.
Tate lifted his head in surprise. “Really? You want to go through with it? Alex, you won’t regret
it, I promise.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Alex warned, as he nuzzled the side of Tate’s neck and
smelled the blood thrumming there, just underneath the skin. “This is just round one of
negotiations. Give me an hour or two to recover and we can discuss the guest list.”
Tate gave a soft laugh, not unlike his tiger’s chuff. He pulled Alex in for a kiss. “Promises,
promises,” he said with a smile.
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