Husband for the Holidays

Husband for the Holidays
Ups and Downs

The next day Preston decided to take the boys out. He hadn’t left the condo, except to go to the corner store since the boys had come to stay and he thought perhaps that one of the causes of his break down yesterday was that he was going a little stir-crazy.

It was too cold outside to do something outdoors with the boys – that narrowed down his options considerably. He decided on the mall. Luckily, Carter had given him access to his car and driver if he ever wanted too. It was too overwhelming to even think of trying to juggle the babies and their things on the bus.

He called for the car and when it arrived he bundled the boys inside.

The driver asked, “Where to Mr. McCall?”

He started to say the mall, but what came out was “The Forum.”

He would just stop by and see if Carter needed him to pick something up while he was out. He wouldn’t go just because he wanted to see the other man.

He wasn’t.

XoX XXX XoX

“Oh, aren’t they just adorable!”

Preston awkwardly maneuvered into the club. He had both babies in their carriers. In the middle the day, the club wasn’t open to the public yet. Some of the staff was setting up for the night and a few of the boys were on the stage practicing new choreography.

Cora sashayed up to him, she was wearing a peach silk dressing gown, her make-up was on, but no wig yet – her real, short hair spiked in the front.

“Married is one thing, but now you’re showing up with babies in tow? You sure don’t do things half-measure, Sugar.”

Preston hefted the carriers onto the bar top. “Hey, Cora. These are my nephews.” He didn’t explain more than that.

Cora leaned over one carrier and blew a raspberry on a chubby cheek, leaving lipstick marks. Cameron grasped for the sparkly pendent than hung down from her neck. Too late, Preston realized it was a rhinestone phallus. Oh well, it’s not like the baby would know what it was. Soon they were surrounded by a small crown of leather and lace clad admirers.

Preston looked around the club, no sign of Carter. He laid a hand on Cora’s back. “I need to the talk to the boss, Cora, do you mind watching them for a few minutes?”

Behind the bar, Julian let out a low whistle. “Came all the way out here to ‘talk’ did you? I’m all for it. I’ve been thinkin’ about asking the big man for a raise and I bet he’d be more receptive after a midday ‘talk’ with his husband.” Julian winked theatrically.

The others laughed. Preston felt his ears turn an unattractive red. He was well aware that they thought he had stopped in for a quickie with Carter, and why wouldn’t they think that? The staff all knew they’d married recently.

“You just ignore them, and go on back, Sugar.” Cora clucked, shooing him off. “Mama Cora has this under control.”

Timothy didn’t even try to stop him or bat an eye as he walked by into the office. As he entered, he could see several of the younger dancers had followed him and were conspicuously hanging out around the corner, clearly looking to listen in on whatever went on in the office.

Carter looked up when he came through the door. “Preston.”

“Carter.”

Carter gave him a once over and then asked, “Where are the boys?”

“Out on the floor with Cora and the others.”

“Good choice, perhaps I can add nanny to her job description.” Carter leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles. “So what do I owe this visit?”

“I was actually going to try to brave the mall. Is there anything I can pick up for you? I was thinking maybe I could pick up a few little things for the boys, you know, for them to open on Christmas morning. I could put your name on them too, not that they’d even really know…”

“I already got the boys something.”

Preston looked slightly taken aback. “You did?”

“Yes. But go ahead, and get a few more things. They should have a few things from ‘Santa’, too, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Not that Preston had even considered that before now.

“Why don’t you take one of the guys with you?” Carter suggested, referring to the bouncers.

It was a tempting offer, another pair of hands would be incredible, but Preston didn’t want to become reliant on others. Not when he would have to get used to doing all this on his own after the divorce. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks though.”

“Suit yourself. Have a good time.” With a nod of his head, Carter turned back to his work.

“Will do.” Preston lingered on the carpet at the door.

After a moment, Carter looked back up. “Forget something?”

“Nope, just protecting our reputations.” It really wouldn’t do for the guys to think their quickie was only 5 minutes. He had some pride.

“Excuse me?” Carter looked at his quizzically.

“Don’t worry about it. Just concentrate on your work.”

Carter’s brow furrowed a little but he shrugged and went back to his computer.

Preston wandered around a little, looking at the trinkets and art pieces Carter had on his office wall. A naughty idea dawned on him.

“Mmmmm, yes, baby.” Preston groaned loudly, pushing his back into the wall to make a thumping sound. “Oooooooh!”

Carter’s head snapped up. “What in the world are you doing?”

Preston pressed a finger to his mouth; a sign Carter should be quiet. Then he whispered, “They’re all listening outside the door. I’m just giving them what they want.” He raised his voice, “Oh, baby, yes, take that cock. Mmmmm!”

Carter’s dark eyebrow lifted. “No one is going to believe you’re topping me.”

“Hey!” Preston scowled, offended.

“It’s not an insult, just a fact. I top and everyone knows it.”

Preston smiled cockily, “Maybe I’m just that good.” He rose his voice again, “Ooh yeah, you’re so hot, take it all!” Preston butted his shoulder against the wall again, making the door rattle. “Mmmm, Carter, take my big, hard di –”

Preston was cut off by Carter’s hand pressing over his mouth; the other man had gotten up and moved across the room unbelievably fast.

Preston wasn’t alarmed and just stared up at Carter, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You’re only embarrassing yourself.” Carter smirked without lifting his hand. He kept his voice low and rumbling so it wouldn’t be heard in the hall, “They won’t believe it, because they know how I operate.”

Preston twisted his head a little, to dislodge Carter’s hand. “And how’s that?”

“Well, first of all. I use the desk, not the wall.” Carter spun Preston around, grabbing him behind and frog-marching him to the desk. When Preston’s legs knocked the desk, there was a muffled bang. “The desk is very study, so I can get more leverage.”

Preston’s playful attitude evaporated, he could feel the heat of Carter’s body all along his back, the ends of his nerves seemed to spark from the contact.

“Then I clear the desk.” He reached around Preston and brushed everything but the computer onto the floor with a clatter. “And bend them down over it.” Again Carter demonstrated, taking a hold of Preston’s shoulder and pushing down until his chest touched the desktop. The position put Preston’s ass in direct contact with the front of Carter’s suit pants.

Preston’s breath came quicker, the air felt so thick. He froze to avoid brushing up against something he shouldn’t.

“I always face them in this direction,” Carter continued to explain, a hand grabbing the back of Preston’s hair and tugging gently so his chin came up to look forward. “So they can see the door. So they know at any second someone could come and see them splayed over my desk. See how gorgeous and slutty and used they are while I pound them.”

Preston shivered at the words, eyes flashing over the door.

“It takes a second to prepare them. I have lube in the drawer.” Carter opened the drawer in the back of the desk and then slammed it shut so the audience could hear. Carter’s hand then grabbed the desk by Preston’s hip and started lifting the edge a little and dropping it down, so it started making a dull, creaking, rocking noise. “Then I go to town. Giving them a good…hard…fuck.” He punctuated each husky word with loud bang of the desk, the legs scraping slightly on the floor.

Preston pushed an elbow back, half-heartedly trying to dislodge Carter from his back. He groaned in exasperation, “Carter!”

There was a low, dark chuckle against his ear, “Yup, that’s what they usually start yelling.”

Preston could well imagine. He could feel his prick approved whole-heartedly, immediately starting to fill. Each word Carter whispered made it push a little more insistently behind his fly and the edge of the desk Carter had him pressed against. He fisted his hands on the desk, making a conscious effort not to rock his hips back against Carter and press his ass to the bulge he could feel there.

Fortunately (or in his cock’s uncalled-for opinion, unfortunately), Carter pulled back after a few moments.

Feeling his ears burning, Preston straightened up. “You’re an ass.”

Carter grinned and raised his voice, so it would carry through the door, “What’s that about your ass, baby?”

Unwillingly, Preston found himself smiling back, but still made an obscene gesture with his middle finger. Then, hoping Carter wouldn’t notice, he tugged his jacket closed in the front to hide his ridiculously eager hard-on.

He inched towards the door, “Are you sure, there’s nothing I can pick up for you?”

“Nothing.” Carter confirmed, “Have fun, and call if you run into trouble or need anything.”

In a little bit of a daze, Preston started towards the door.

Carter smirked and settled back in his desk chair, calling after Preston, “Do me a favour; walk bow-legged until you get out of the club. Just to really sell it.”

XoX XXX XoX

Preston woke in the middle of the night to the sound of crying. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence these days. Pulling on Carter’s housecoat, he stumbled across the hall to the nursery.

Unsurprisingly, the cries were coming from Beckett. He was red in the face and leaning up against the bars of the crib.

Preston lifted him up to check if he needed to be changed. The moment his hands grabbed under the baby’s arms, he knew something wasn’t right. Beckett was warmer than usual.

“Are you sick, B.? Is that why you’re crying?” Tucking Beckett against one arm, he touched his forehead. Definitely hot.

Preston reviewed everything he knew about a fever. That damned book had mentioned it only briefly. Fever. Cool water. High fever. Doctor. Well, that certain wasn’t much. And what exactly was the difference between a fever and a high fever?

Beckett started to cry pitifully, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, okay…” He walked over to the other crib and felt Cameron’s sleeping brow. Thankfully the other baby seemed to be fine. “We’ll try cool water first…We can see if that helps.”

He carried Beckett into the guest bathroom, turning on the cold water faucet once he got there. Beckett’s cries turned shattering, distraught. In the face of the baby’s obvious distress, Preston became extremely flustered and thrust him right under the water. Preston was so flustered that he never even thought of just wiping the baby off with a damp washcloth.

Beckett started crying harder: It was bad enough being woken up by the fever but now his uncle was drowning him in the sink.

“Alright, I get it, bad idea. I’m sorry.” He pulled Beckett to his chest.

The baby just screamed.

“Would a clinic even be open in the middle of the night?” Preston wondered out loud. “Or I could call a taxi and try to take you to the hospital….”

He looked down at Beckett; he was flushed with fever and dripping wet. His fierce crying was making it harder for him to breath. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Carter.

Carter might know. Preston walked Beckett down the hall. The door from the master bedroom swung open even before he got around to knocking. A rumpled looking Carter was revealed, his hair in disarray, bare-chested with just his boxers on.

His dark eyes swept over Preston and Beckett once, twice – all traces of sleep gone. “What’s wrong?”

“I think he’s sick. A fever…I’m not sure what to do…”

Carter took the baby from Preston’s arms. “Why is he dripping wet?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Istuckhimunderthefaucet.”

“You what?” Carter his fingers to brush some of water off Beckett’s face and hair.

“I stuck him under the faucet. I was trying to bring his fever down.” Preston bit out defensively.

“There’s a thermometer in the bathroom cabinet. Get it for me.”

Preston nodded and took off.

Carter walked back down the hall to the living room, he placed Beckett on the sofa and then unbuttoned and pulled off the little, snowman-themed sleeper he wore. He checked the baby’s temperature with his hand.

Preston hurried back with the small thermometer, handing it to Carter and then watching the older man take over. “Is it a fever or a high fever? The book said there was a difference, but I’m not sure which is which.”

Carter used the thermometer and then inspected it, answering. “It’s just a plain, old fever.”

“So, he’ll be okay?” Preston pressed.

“He’ll be fine. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard in my office. Get it for me.”

“Seriously? Now? No.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Just get it, McCall.”

Reluctantly, Preston walked away and went into the home office, finding the bottle and bringing it back.

After opening it up, Carter poured a little into his palm, rubbed it into Beckett’s tiny, bare feet.

Preston sank into the other end of the sofa, watching protectively, “What are you doing?”

“Alcohol evaporates quickly, it’ll cool him down.”

Preston continued to observe as Carter smoothed the liquid over the baby’s kicking feet and slowly Beckett’s crying stopped, though he still looked upset.

“You’re sure he’s going to be okay? You think I should call someone else?”

“No, not unless the fever gets worse. He’s just a little warm right now.”

Panic ebbing, Preston’s expression turned apologetic. “Sorry for waking you. I over reacted.”

“It’s fine.”

Preston leaned into the back of the sofa, trying to stifle a yawn.

Carter noticed and offered, “You can go back to bed if you want.”

Preston’s gaze dropped down between them to Beckett who was staring up between Preston and Carter with wide, limpid eyes. “His fever hasn’t broken.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Carter offered, “You can go back to bed.”

“He might need me.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “You’re too tired to be help anyways.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Preston murmured stubbornly, yawning again.

“Suit yourself.”

Preston made a soft, drowsy sound of agreement, eyes drifting closed. “Mrr…”

For the next few minutes, Carter watched Preston slump down farther, slowly falling asleep. After Preston was out, he lifted Beckett up in his arms, standing and leaving the sleeping young man on the sofa. Carter took Beckett into the kitchen to fix him a bottle of cold, watered downed formula. He rocked him lightly as Beckett drank the whole thing.

“Feeling better, buddy? Time to go back to bed?”

The tears came to the babies eyes immediately.

“You wouldn’t…”

He most certainly would. The tears started to fall, the wailing soon after.

“Hush. You’re tired, I know you are. Sleeping will make you feel better,” Carter tried to reason with the baby.

It didn’t work and Beckett’s fussing continued, clearly cranky.

Carter remembered what Preston had said the other day singing helping the babies sleep. He looked down at the baby sternly. “If you think I’m going to sing to you, you have another thing coming, buddy.”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Carter rocked him and talked to him soothingly, but no amount of coddling would put Beckett to sleep. And, he tried for a good half hour. If he hadn’t been sure about it before, he was now – the little boy had stubbornness in spades.

“Preston?” he called softly.

There was no response. The tousled blond hair he could see over the back of the sofa didn’t even move.

“Preston?” he called a little louder.

Still no reaction. Carter walked towards the window, as far from the sofa he could get without leaving the room.

Rocking Beckett lightly, Carter’ eyes scanned lights of the city below, it was snowing softly, and the white flakes danced in the street lights and car head lights.

Beckett’s pitiful mewling continued unabated.

Finally Carter had had enough; he lifted Beckett up to eye level and threatened, “Just this once, you understand? And if anyone, especially your uncle, finds out you’re in big trouble.”

Carter’ singing voice was low and quiet - and off key. “Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh…”

Carter was a terrible singer, Preston reflected groggily, shifting into the sofa cushions. His last thought as he drifted into a deep sleep was that, despite his terrible pitch, Carter was pretty damn perfect.

XoX XXX XoX

The next day, Beckett was feeling much better, much to Preston’s relief.

Carter had brought home some more financial assessments and convinced Preston to work through them with him they worked at the desk in Carter’s home office while the boys played on a blanket between them, babbling mostly in their incomprehensible baby talk and every once in a while coming out with an understandable word, mostly, ‘up’, ‘bye’, and ‘baba’ for bottle.

The twins were also becoming very mobile. They had perfected the crawl - but not yet the walk, as was obvious when Beckett tottered gawkily across the blanket toward Carter’s chair. Excited be closing in on his destination, Beckett lunged forward with his body but forgot to move his legs and so smacked his face on the ground. Immediately, he began to cry.

“Ma…ma! MAMA!”

Both Preston and Carter looked at each other. Preston’s heart stopped.

Carter was the first to take action. He leaned down scooped Beckett up, patting his back soothingly. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, buddy.”

Preston watched still a little shell shocked. He and Carter could pick the boys up when they fall or sooth boo-boos, but give them back their real mama and daddy?

That was something they’d never be able to do.

XoX XXX XoX

When Carter came home from the club that night, he saw a light on in the nursery. Curious, he crept closer. Through a crack in the door, he saw Preston in the rocking chair, Beckett crawled on his arms.

“I love you.” Preston was whispering to the baby. “I know that that’ll never make up for the fact you lost your real mama and daddy, but I want you to know that. I will love you every day of your life. Even when you scream bloody murder, or piss all over. Even when you get older and refuse to clean your room. Or when you get your first failing grade. Or the first time I catch you smoking or fighting at school. Even though I’ll ground you for a year, I’ll still you love you. Just like Peter and Sophie would have.”

Carter backed away from the door, uncomfortably aware he had overheard something that should have been private.

XoX XXX XoX

Thursdays had traditionally been a boys’ night for Carter and Stephen St. Novell. Usually, they would hang out at the club, play poker with some of their other friends, or just go out for dinner and conversation. With Preston and the babies suddenly occupying so much of Carter’s, they had missed a few Thursdays. To try and remedy the situation, Carter had invited Stephen over for the evening and they were watching old hockey highlights on the big screen and drinking insanely expensive scotch.

Though Preston hadn’t been asked to, he had made himself and the babies scarce to give the other men privacy. That had worked well for a few hours, but a little after ten one the babies was having trouble sleeping and his needy cry could be heard in the background under the hockey game.

Carter and Stephen both looked up and then heard Preston slipped out of his bedroom. The younger man was half-dressed and crossed to the nursery. A moment later he reappeared with Beckett on in his arms.

For a brief moment, Carter weakened, allowing himself to stare at the blond holding the fussing baby boy. Preston was wearing low-slung sweat pants, barefoot, with his glasses on. Beckett was on his hip, wearing only a diaper, babbling softly and reaching up to grab at Preston’s already-messy hair. It was an intensely domestic image - one that caused that strange piercing sensation in the vicinity of his heart.

He tore his eyes off Preston and found himself looking at Stephen. Who was looking at Preston. He had never considered himself a very jealous man. He enjoyed dating handsome men in the past and took some satisfaction in showing them off, seeing others appreciate that beauty.

But not with Preston. He had the ridiculous urge to bundle the younger man up in a blanket until Stephen left.

“Why aren’t you wearing clothes, Preston?” he snapped almost grouchily.

Preston arched an eyebrow in disbelief. He wandered a little closer, bouncing the baby lightly. “Come on. I’m wearing pants, and Dr. Brinks says skin to skin contact is good for babies. That book is sort of your bible. And if you’re worrying about offending St. Novell, well, frankly he spends more time in Forum watching the dancers than you do, and you own the place. I doubt my bare chest is going to shock him.”

Stephen gave Preston’s bare, defined torso a slow, appreciative look. “Trust me, I don’t mind at all.”

Preston preened a little, “Thank you, Stephen.”

“You,” Carter spoke to them each in turn, “Go, put Beckett and to bad and put a shirt on when there are guests over. And you, get your eyes back on the TV.”

Both men did what they were told. Once Preston disappeared in the nursery, Stephen smirked, bringing his glass to his lips for a sip. “Becoming rather possessive, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Carter griped, fingers tightening around his own glass. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

“What happened to just getting him out of your system? That not working? Is the sex really that good?”

Carter didn’t answer.

Stephen, who had been teasing, waited for Carter respond in kind. When he remained tight-lipped, Stephen knew something was up. “Oh, Jesus, you haven’t even fucked him yet? It’s been weeks. Losing your touch, old man?”

“We’ve just been busy with other things. Problem?”

Even though Stephen had known Carter forever and they were close friends, he had no intention of taking the teasing too far, especially not with that dangerous glint in Carter’s eye. “Nope, not at all.”

“Good.”

XoX XXX XoX

Preston sat on the ground, playing with the babies. Carter had had an afternoon business meeting but had mentioned he would be coming after and even offered to bring some take-out with him. Preston was hoping he’d be home soon, so they could double team the babies to get the feedings and baths over with before they themselves ate.

Cameron was lying on the play mat, sucking on a plastic ring. Beckett had been playing with a collection of big, colourful blocks, but now he had discarded them and crawled towards Preston on his tummy, commando style.

Beckett grabbed a handful of Preston’s pant leg and demanded. “Car!”

Preston leaned over, searching the toy box to retrieve a yellow plastic car and placed it within Beckett’s reach.

Beckett’s drool covered fist slapped the floor. “Car!”

“I just gave you the car.” Preston picked it up and waved it a little before putting it back down.

“Carcarcar!” Beckett chanted, ignoring the plastic toy mutinously.

Preston frowned a little with a spark of frustration. “That’s the car. You’ve got the car.” He placed a hand on it again and dragged it over the floor making the wheels spin, “See? Vrooom, vroooooom. Car.”

Beckett started to cry; horribly sorrowful sobs that ought to be reserved for life-threatening situations. “Caaaaaaaar!”

The elevator doors opened up with a swish.

Beckett’s cries quieted almost at once. When Carter came into view he stretched his arms up, “Car!”

Carter set down his briefcase and laptop bag and picked Beckett up, bouncing him lightly on his hip. “Hey, buddy, what’s with the tears?”

Beckett clung to him, wiping his snotty nose on Carter’s lapel.

Ooh, now it made a little more sense. Preston realized, “Oh, Carter.”

“Hmm?” Carter looked over at him questioningly.

“Nothing, just figured something out.” He tossed the toy back in the box.

Preston watched at Carter walked around the room, bouncing Beckett as the little boy excitedly babbled unrecognizable words.

He really hoped that the boys weren’t becoming too attached to Carter. What would happen then, when the charade was over? The last thing he wanted was for them to lose another important parental figure in their lives.

God, who was he kidding? There was a good chance he himself was getting too attached to Carter. If he wasn’t careful he was going to be hurting even worse than the boys when it came time to leave.

There was a tiny crash. Cameron had crawled over and knocked Beckett’s little block tower over. The baby looked up at Preston with wide eyes and chirped, “Uh-oh!”

Preston glanced back over at Carter, “Uh-oh is right.”

XoX XXX XoX


This was the last purely fluffy, baby-centric chapter. Next chapter we’re going to back to focusing on Carter and Preston’s relationship and more adult themes. Still plenty fun though, I hope. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it’s very motivating, and I’m going to need that motivation to get this finished for Christmas :P