Under the Mistletoe!byEvil Alpaca©
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The following story involves graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. If such things offend you, please read no further. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story. Please do not reproduce or redistribute this story without the author's consent.
"No, that's o.k. No . . . no I mean it. You and dad have fun in Europe. I've got a lot of homework to do anyway." That was how Vic's conversation with his mother had ended. She and his father were jetting off to France for Christmas. She had at least taken the time to pretend to feel bad about it this time. Last year, he didn't find out until he had arrived at the front door only to be told by the maid that they were vacationing in Mexico.
Vic was in his second year at school. He had got here on a football scholarship. His dad had pushed him into the sport, probably so his father could relive his "glory days" through his son. He loved the game, but not as much as his dad did. Majoring in business so he could go work for his dad someday was also not Vic's idea. All his life, he had done what his parent's had wanted. He wondered what they would do if they knew how he really felt.
Back in high school, Vic began undergoing long streaks of depression. He hid it well, though. He worked out, trained hard in both football and martial arts (the one thing that was actually Vic's idea that his father didn't object too), was class president and had taken a position on the high school yearbook. His parents thought he was just trying to pad his college applications. In actuality, he just wanted time away from them.
Vic realized he was actually pretty lucky. He had the nice clothes, a convertible as soon as he was old enough to drive, a nice house to live in, and he wasn't a bad looking kid. He was 6 ft. 4 in. tall, with a muscular build, short blonde hair and blue eyes. He was the most sought after boy, from a dating perspective, in his class. And while he had already had a wealth of sexual experiences with the girls in his school, he had never really felt anything deeper. That was one of the causes of his depression.
On more than one occasion, he had found himself fantasizing about other guys. While out on the field, he would check out the cheerleaders and his own wide receivers, and would be equally aroused by both. But he knew what would happen if he ever even discussed his problems with anyone, it would get out. He knew how things operated in his little corner of America. He would somehow get kicked off the team and become a social outcast. His parents would send him off to military school at best, and disown him at worst. All the luxuries he had become accustomed to would vanish. It wasn't even that his school was more narrow-minded than other places. There were gay men and women who attended and while not necessarily put on pedestals, not many people really seemed to care. But he knew he wouldn't be allowed any leeway. It just wasn't something the quarterback did. He didn't see a way out, so he kept his mouth shut, threw the football, and did what he was told.
After graduation, he was accepted into a prestigious school, which was thankfully far away from his parents and his life. His third semester had just ended. His last class had actually been his photography class. He had told his parents he was just filling out one of his electives. Actually it was the third photography class he had taken; one every semester. Taking pictures, like he had done when on the yearbook staff, was one of the only things he had truly enjoyed. It was the concept of capturing a moment in time, which no one else in the world would be able to see if it weren't for him, that was so appealing. He would rather try and make a living doing that than going into his father's corporate world. He was going to try and take as many classes as possible, maybe getting a double-major. It might mean taking a while longer than originally anticipated, but he didn't mind the idea at all. It would mean more time away from his parents, and more time to figure out what he really wanted to do.
So he sat in the nice two-bedroom apartment that his parents so generously paid for, deciding what to do with his Christmas vacation. All his "friends" had taken off to be with their families. It was amazing how quiet the area around the university became this time of year. Where once there were parties in the streets, now there was only snow. He was skimming through the paper when he came upon a request in the classifieds for volunteers to help out at a homeless shelter not too far from where he lived. Maybe it was having watched too many versions of "A Christmas Carol" recently, but he felt the need to go do something productive with his time. If he wasn't going to be happy, maybe he could give someone else a hand. He called the number, found out where he was supposed to go and what he was supposed to do, and hung up. He found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. He read for a little while before falling asleep on the couch.
The next morning he got up, showered, and headed to the shelter. He decided to walk, as it wasn't far and there was something really magical about wandering the snowy streets when no one else was around. He was going to be going around town to drop-off points and gathering donations that had been left there; things like coats, blankets, and other non-perishables. He arrived at the shelter where an elderly woman introduced him to the people he would be working with.
All three of his fellow volunteers were also college students. The first was Dawn, a small girl who seemed to want to avoid making eye contact with anyone whenever possible. She wore baggy green overalls over a baggy, multi-colored sweater and a heavy wool cap was pulled down to her eyebrows. She had a trace of an accent that Vic believed to be Irish. Her face was dirty, as she had shown up earlier than anyone else and had helped moved some stuff around in one of the dusty back rooms.
The next girl was Angela, a black girl who looked like she would have been more at home in a library than a shelter. She was dressed very primly in a gray sweatshirt and matching sweat pants. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she even had the little, round librarian glasses. She was very well spoken and almost radiated intelligence. Though the nature of her clothes hid her body, she seemed to be in good shape. She was also quite beautiful, in a stern sort of way.
The last member of their little crew was Jack. Jack was strikingly handsome. He had long, jet-black hair that even when in a ponytail dipped all the way to the small of his back. He had pale-blue eyes, a very pale complexion, and high cheekbones that gave him a slightly elfish look. Before putting his coat on to go outside, Vic saw that he was ripped, like those guys used in body-spray commercials. While not quite as muscular as Vic, Jack had strong shoulders and a narrow waist. He was dressed all in black, including combat boots, leather pants and a leather jacket. He also had a pierced tongue, which made Vic cringe a little when he saw it. That had to have been painful. The four of them were given a map, a list of destinations around town, and the keys to a (very) old Ford F-150 four door truck, whose color had become something of a mystery, and they were sent on their way.
That first day was awkward. There was some idle chitchat, mostly about the weather or other obvious things. They were from different worlds, and they all knew it. Only a possibly fleeting sense of altruism had brought them together that day, and none of them seemed bold enough to start up a more involved conversation. It took them the entire day to hit all their targets, having to head back to the shelter several times to unload. By the time quitting time rolled around, they were all exhausted, sore, and as dirty as Dawn had been. But Vic still felt kind of good. He hadn't thought about how sad he had been recently at all that day.
On their last haul, they arrived back at the shelter to find some kind commotion going on. Four drunken, bored, middle-aged men were screaming at an elderly man dressed in rags trying to make his way up the steps. They were yelling things like "get a job" or "ya lousy bum!" The people who worked at the shelter didn't know what to do. Vic found himself feeling something else he hadn't felt in a while. He was angry. But he knew he had to keep his cool. He was more than capable of hurting these guys, but doing so would make him no better than them. He moved quickly over to the steps.
"What seems to be the problem guys?"
They looked him over with glazed eyes. They saw his football letter-jacket and his imposing frame. Unfortunately, the bottom of a bottle can make you do rash things.
"We was just telling these fuckin' bums to get jobs. We . . . we is tired of workin' hard day in and day out just so these free-loaders can get themselves fed at the taxpayers expense."
Vic looked around. The old man who was the subjects of their taunts had finally made it to the top of the stairs, partially through the assistance of Dawn and Angela. Dawn actually looked furious, or so it would seem through the layers of soot on her face. The man was shivering and moving slowly, as if he had arthritis or something in his knees. His clothes were in shambles and he was obviously freezing. Yeah, a 'free-loader'. The guy really had it SO easy. As the girls ushered the man in the door to safety, Vic noticed Jack was standing nearby. He was being quiet and unobtrusive, but his eyes were alert. Vic thought he was planning what to do if this got ugly, and he suddenly felt glad to have this pseudo-goth young man on his side.
"Taxpayers? You do realize this shelter is run entirely on donations? And they can barely manage to feed everybody as it is." Vic noticed that the use of logic, while often lost on people, did manage to take a lot of wind out of their sails. A few of them dispersed, still grumbling about the way things worked, but a two of them were a little more stubborn. With their intended target out of sight, they turned their taunts toward him.
"Oh, look at Mr. College-Boy, think he knows everything. Probably born with a silver spoon in his friggin' mouth. Never had to work a day in his life."
"Yeah. You think you're better than us? Just 'cause you're helping this trash? I've got a mind to . . ."
The guy took a swing at Vic. Vic saw it coming a mile away. He almost openly sighed. He was trying to avoid this. Faster than most people could blink, he grabbed the guy's hand twisted it slightly in one direction then hard and fast in the other, causing the other man to flip over, landing face-first in the snow and in no small amount of pain. His friend grabbed a 2 x 4 from a pile that was going to be used for an addition to the shelter. Vic was getting ready to move forward and take the board away when the man dropped like a rock. Jack had quietly moved into position behind the guy and chop-blocked him in the back of the knee when things started getting out of hand. Jack sat on the guy's back, grinned at Vic and said, "So would please explain what is going to happen to them if they don't take a hike right now."
Vic grinned back. "O.k. gentlemen. I realize you are unhappy with the general economy, prevailing social policy and the sorry state of you lots in life. That man you were insulting isn't responsible for your sad lives. Neither am I," he said while twisting his man's hand to remind him who was in control, "and neither is my friend over there. Now we can do this two ways. We can call the cops and your families can come visit you in jail for Christmas or . . ."
"No cops . . . All right we'll go." Vic and Jack let them up, slowly so as to be ready for a sudden change of heart. The two men backed away slowly at first, then more quickly. "You got lucky this time. We won't forget this."
As the two men disappeared around a corner, Vic muttered, "Yeah right. You'll be lucky if you remember your names, you drunken sots."
Jack stifled a chuckle. "You really could have hurt them couldn't you?"
Vic glanced down. He didn't like having to fight, and pushing around a couple of drunks wasn't exactly something to be proud of. "Yeah, but that wouldn't have proved anything, and would have just validated their stupidity."
Jack grasped his shoulder in a proud sort of way, and the two headed up the steps. The two girls were waiting for them. Angela looked pleased at the way the whole incident had been handled, while Dawn was holding a crowbar and was apparently looking for a fight.
"Easy there tiger," said Jack. "Vic handled everything, so no need for you to go medieval on their asses."
Dawn broke out in a smile that stretched from ear to ear. At least her teeth were clean, as her smile broke the remaining tension. Even Angela started to chuckle as the four of them went inside to help get ready for the evening meal.
Once the evening crew arrived, they picked up their assignments for the next day and headed out to the parking lot. Jack was climbing into his beat-up old Jeep Wrangler, when he turned and asked, "You guys wanna go grab some coffee or something? Figure we earned it after today."
The two girls glanced at each other then at the boys. Angela was the first to respond. "Actually, that sounds great. I'm freezing and sore and really need to get off my feet. Note to self; tomorrow, wear sensible shoes."
"Sure, that sounds nice." This came ever-so-quietly from Dawn, who finally met Vic's gaze. She had the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Even if it weren't for the accent, she definitely had a stereotypical Irish feel to her. She had never taken her cap off, so he could be sure but he would bet money her hair was red, too.
"I'm up for it, but I have to go get my car. I don't live too far . . ."
"Don't worry about it. I'll give you a lift and drop you off afterward."
Vic's throat felt dry. He really wanted some company right then, but this guy was bring up all sorts of feeling he had tried to keep buried. Oh what the hell, he thought. It's only coffee. "Sure, that'll work." Vic hopped in the passenger side and they headed to an all-night restaurant.
While the day had been somewhat awkward, the evening proved to be delightful. They talked and laughed until some ungodly hour of the morning. They turned out to be quite a collection of characters.
Angela was majoring in Criminal Justice and hoped to be a lawyer. Her dad was a cop in Brooklyn and she had originally wanted to follow in his footsteps. He didn't want her getting involved in such a dangerous profession, so this was their compromise. She would fight the bad guys in the courts rather than on the streets.
Jack was double-majoring in (of all things) business and accounting. The business department was large, so it wasn't surprising he and Vic and never crossed paths before, especially since Jack had been there a year longer. Vic commented that Jack didn't seem like a number-cruncher, which caused Jack to look a little sheepish. "Yeah, the whole wearing-black-thing started as a random form of rebellion in high school. Turns out my parents didn't care what I wore. As long as I was happy, they were happy. It was frustrating! Now I've got a closet full of black clothes. Sigh."
Dawn still talked less than the others, but she began to open up a bit. She was a Psychology major. She had seen a lot about human nature she couldn't understand, and Vic was under the distinct impression that she had been the recipient of some unpleasant behavior. She was third generation Irish-American and yes, she had red hair (as well as one hell of a temper).
Eventually, Jack dropped Vic off at his apartment. The whole trip back, he kept glancing over at his new friend, and occasionally caught Jack looking back. He found himself wondering just how "alternative" Jack really was, but quickly tried to stifle such thoughts. 'Tried' was the key word, as Jack was a really attractive guy.
The next several days flew by. The foursome got along famously, to the point where their errands didn't even seem like work. Each day, Vic felt better and better about himself; certainly better than he had in years. Every day, the all hung out together after afterward, and Jack would give Vic a ride home. The two of them would sit around his apartment. They talked about their lives, their parents and their plans for the future. Jack probably knew more about Vic than anyone else had been allowed to find out. In one of their many conversations regarding sex, Vic even acknowledged that he had questioned his sexuality. Just saying that felt cathartic, like a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders. Jack didn't even bat one of those beautiful eyes or seem bothered at all.
"I understand all too well. There are still a lot of feelings I have and things I would like to try someday. But I have one philosophy: Don't do anything you're unable to live with in the morning."
The conversation drifted to more light and fluffy topics after that, but those words lingered in Vic's head all evening. Eventually it was so late that Vic let Jack crash in his spare bedroom. Early the next morning, Vic woke up first. He peeked in to check on his guest. Jack was still very much asleep. The covers had crept down past his waist. Vic was almost awestruck by the guy's body. His skin was smooth, pale, and taut. He was lying on his stomach, but Vic could tell he didn't have much by way of excess body fat. He was sleeping in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers which rested loosely and what appeared to be a rock-hard ass. Vic closed the door and jumped in the shower. For the first time in a while, he jerked off while thinking of another guy. When he shot his load, he was amazed by the sheer volume of his stuff. He realized then just how turned on he had been. He also realized how badly he wanted to have sex with Jack.
When he got out of the shower, Jack was awake and sitting in the living room. He was still shirtless (hot damn, this guy was sexy) but had put his pants on.
"My turn," he said. "Got a spare towel?"
"Yeah, I put one next to the sink." As Vic started to turn towards the kitchen, he could have sworn Jack was checking him out. It was probably just his imagination, which was particularly active at that moment.
At the end of their shift that day, they had convened at their favorite late-night dive. Dawn, in a rare burst of initiative, suggested that they get together for Christmas.
"I'm available," piped in Angela.
"Me too," was Jack's response.
"We can have it at my place. I've got room."
Dawn meekly volunteered to cook, while Angela would bring the beer. She knew a good micro-brewery that was on the way to Vic's house. They would have to do all their shopping in one day, but they would manage. Angela and Dawn would hook up Christmas Eve and get half the stuff, while Jack and Vic would get the other half.
The next evening, the two groups went their separate ways for the evening, with a plan to get festivities started early the next morning.
It was well into the dark hours of Christmas Eve when Jack and Vic found there way back into Vic's apartment. They set about decorating the place and setting up the tree. The tree wasn't much to look at, as it was the last straggler in the lot. That was one of the reasons Vic bought it instead of continuing to look. It didn't seem to be wanted by anyone else, kind of like his motley crew.
They had food in the fridge and there were blinking lights all over the place. Jack was perched precariously on a stepladder trying to hang mistletoe from the ceiling. The ladder didn't seem too stable, so Vic moved forward to brace his friend. He put his hands on Jack's hips, and found himself face-to crotch with Jack. He found himself staring. Jack was wearing sweat pants, and Vic saw the movement of his dick brushing against the fabric. And it seemed to be stiffening up.