Cold, injured, and afraid his ex-boyfriend will come find him, Oliver chooses instead to run away from the hospital and hide in his cabin on Christmas Day. Little does he know that Santa Claus and the Big Boss will drop a surprise for him through his fireplace. The surprise's name is Derek.
He froze. The voice behind his back sounded clipped, but not without a tinge of fear. He raised his hands a little to show—
“I said don't move!”
“Look. I just want to turn around, okay? I don't have a gun or anything with me.”
It took a beat before the voice spoke again.
He moved around slowly until he faced the voice's owner, stared at the face not too far from his own, and offered a silent “Thank You” to the supervisor who sent him here—or rather, flown him, slid him through the chimney, and literally dumped him into this man's fireplace—the man who stood before him was fucking gorgeous, and sweet like no rainbow colored lollipops or bubbly melting chocolate he’d ever tasted.
He thanked his boss again, hushed, as his eyes roamed over the Adonis’ bare chest—he knew it was improper but what the heck. His eyes took in the freckled skin, resting briefly at the dismaying sight of a sling across the broad shoulder supporting a broken arm. That was when it registered on him that the man in front of him was a wreck: besides the arm sling, the poor guy’s other hand holding a gun pointed at him shook visibly, and his ankle was bandaged, too, but thankfully not in plaster. Once the brief once-over was over, the brazen intruder let his gaze trail back up to his involuntary host’s face and found a pair of lush lips pressed together into a thin line.
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