Even though he had his phone number, Tom couldn’t work up the nerve to call or text Randall. Antonio’s words of warning embedded themselves in his brain.

Tom worked his shift on Thursday and didn’t say a word about Randall to Antonio or Kirsten or anyone who dared tried to ask him. He kept to himself, helped customers, and tried not to think about the Hot Mall Santa putting his mind through the wringer.

“Jesus, some woman I was helping with ottoman cushions would not shut up to me about her pap smear.” Kirsten took out her apron and tossed it in her locker. Tom stood next to her and folded his up neatly.

“What’s a pap smear?” Tom asked.

“It’s like a really invasive throat culture, and I’ll let you Google the rest.” Kirsten shut her locker. “You ready to go?”

Tom put his apron away. He hadn’t heard from Randall all day today or yesterday. He’d probably forgotten about him.

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Then let’s get the F outta here.” Kirsten led the way through the store.

Waiting up front, in non-Santa clothes, was Randall. He wore a cable-knit sweater and jeans with scuffed-up non-Santa boots.

“Hey,” Randall said. “Are we still on for dinner?”

Tom put his hand on his chest in disbelief. Kirsten was silently having an aneurysm.

“Yeah.” Tom looked at Kirsten, who was now blush central. “Yeah.”

“Is tonight still good?” Randall asked.

“It is,” Kirsten said. She gave Tom a friendly shove forward.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Tom said.

“It’s okay. I told you I’d meet you after work on Thursday.”

“Right.” Tom tried not to stare, but Randall in normal clothes made Tom’s stomach and heart do a trapeze act together. “You look nice.”

“The temperature dropped into the twenties, so walking outside in that Santa suit wouldn’t cut it anymore.”

“Right.” Any trepidation Tom had about Randall’s multiple boyfriends and fuckbuddies evaporated as if it were 120 degrees outside.

“Shall we?” Randall gestured to the door. “Good seeing you again, Kirsten.”

“You, too.” She smiled knowingly at Tom before they walked out.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” Tom asked. “There’s an Applebee’s not too far from here.”

“Do they do take out?” Randall asked. He hunched his hands in his pockets. He still didn’t have a coat.

“Even better. They have Carside to Go. You order on your phone, and they bring it out to your car.”

“Perfect.”

Tom gave him a quizzical look. “We’re eating in the car?”

“Yes, but it’s going to be worth it. Just trust me.” Randall threaded his fingers through Tom’s. It was going to be a good night.

* * *

There are no mountains in Illinois. It is one of the flattest states in the country, and Oakville is frustratingly level. The only change in elevation comes from highway overpasses or when a real estate developer artificially creates hills to build fancy houses on.

It was the latter where Randall had Tom drive them. He would rub Tom’s leg whenever he gave him another direction. The car smelled of Randall’s woodsy cologne and greasy Applebee’s burgers.

“I didn’t tell those people about our secret office,” Randall said. Tom loved that he called it theirs. “They followed me when I went on break.”

“You have fans.”

“They feel more like stalkers.” Randall turned to look out the windshield. “I’m sorry the secret is out.”

“It’s okay. It was bound to happen.” Tom glanced at him quickly. Randall told him to turn left at the light. “Speaking of, um, secrets and outs…are you, um…”

“I don’t bring it up at work. I don’t think my boss or the mall would like it for business reasons. But I am to people who care to know the real me.”

“I like the real you.” He wanted to keep peeling back the beautiful exterior of this dream guy. It was his looks that pulled Tom in originally, but he found that discovering the real Randall was what kept him coming back for more.

Randall had Tom turn right into Veronese Estates, a tony housing development located on a manmade hill at the edges of town. The nicest complexes in the area were all named after artists from the Renaissance, which immediately made them sound cosmopolitan and classy. Gated communities weren’t a thing around here, letting Tom drive in unobstructed.

“Did all your mall Santa-ing allow you to buy one of these mansions?” Tom asked.

“Not quite. Keep driving.” A smile escaped from the edges of Randall’s mouth. It sent a rush of fuzzy warmth through Tom.

Tom drove down the main road, Caravaggio Boulevard, which was lined with McMansions all modeled after Italian villas, with three-car garages natch. Detailed Christmas light arrangements swaddled the exteriors of many of the houses. Tom could’ve turned off his car’s lights and seen perfectly it was that bright.

“I should’ve brought sunglasses,” he said.

“It gets better,” Randall said. “Keep driving.”

The further they got up the hill, the more elaborate the decorations. Larger-than-life Santa and reindeer depictions on the roof, choreographed twinkling lights.

“There’s a neighborhood competition that they take very seriously,” Randall said.

“How do you know all this?”

“I overheard some of the moms in line talking about it, and then one of my elf co-workers told me about this place, that I had to see it.”

Tom had lived in Oakville his whole life and had never been to Veronese Estates.

“It’s…”

“It’s over-the-top,” Randall said. “Really tacky. That’s part of the fun.”

“Yeah.” These displays were monuments to conspicuous consumption. The artists of the Renaissance must be turning in their graves knowing their names are being associated with these bourgeois-on-steroids neighborhoods.

Tom drove to the top of the hill, which actually got high up. He parked at the end of the cul-de-sac where the road ended. The only houses up here were two that were under construction. By the looks of their wood frames, they were going to be the biggest ones in the development.

From this point, they had a view of the whole development and the swaths of flat, empty land outside Veronese. A warm, Christmas glow emanated from the houses beneath them, followed by instant darkness of the outside world. There was something quaint about the view, like they were inside of those Christmas villages people set up in their homes.

“This is really cool,” Tom said.

“The elves did not do this place justice.”

Randall took out their to-go boxes, Tom turned on the radio, and they enjoyed their dinner under the stars and above the lights. Randall picked Tom’s brain on his family’s traditions for each holiday. Tom asked him about funny stories from his travels across the U.S. and his opinion on whether Abraham Lincoln really was gay. (“Most likely. James Buchanan was definitely a big ole queen.”) After they finished eating, they continued talking and held hands on the middle console. Tom would make any bargain with the universe for control of the space-time continuum so that this night never would end.

Soon, the talking petered out. They looked out the window at the stillness of the night and let the soft notes of the radio fill the space. Tom put his head on Randall’s shoulder. Tom had been on dates before, but they had never flowed so effortlessly like tonight.

“Where are you going next?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know. I have the motel room through the first week of January. Maybe Wisconsin.”

Tom heart’s felt a jab of pain at the mention of Randall crossing state lines, probably never to return.

“I kind of don’t want to leave, you know? I like it here.” Randall’s heartbeat vibrated against Tom’s head.

“You’re the star of Oakville.”

“That’s not why I like it here so much.”

Tom could feel everything in Randall’s body. All the nerves, all the tensing, all the heart.

“I like you,” Randall said. The words hung in the air.

He was leaving. He was wanted by everyone in the Chicagoland area. He could have lovers in other states. Those were just excuses, Tom realized. It was scarier to admit the truth.

“I like you, too.”

Randall held him closer. Tom tipped his head up to glance in those gleaming eyes. He lifted himself to kiss Randall, soft kisses like the tender ones Randall gave him their first night together. They made out in his car. It all felt innocent, like they were a pair of 1950s teens at Lover’s Lane or something.

But it didn’t stay innocent for long. Want and need overtook tenderness. They craved each other.

“Do you want to go back to my apartment?” Tom asked.

Randall shook his head no and at the same time, pushed his seat all the way back. Tom looked around to double-check that it was deserted up here. Randall’s cock pushed against his jeans. That overruled any rational argument Tom was making in his head to leave. The moment was now.

He straddled Randall on the passenger seat. He held onto the handle above the door reserved for parents teaching their kids to drive. Randall met his lips. Tom dragged his fingers through Randall’s thick head of hair. He felt the thick sheet of strength pulsing under the sweater. Even wearing a cable-knit sweater Randall still had muscle definition.

The sweater came off. Tom grabbed at those pecs over his sleeveless T-shirt. He grinded into Randall’s thick cock, which pressed against his ass. He moaned into Randall’s lips at the pressure mounting between them.

Riiiiip

“Shit.” He tore the fabric at the top of Randall’s sleeveless T-shirt.

“Damn, Tom.”

A small tear. It could be sewn up, and Randall probably had plenty more. He and Randall exchanged a look of hungriness. Both were on the same page.

Tom ripped the shirt in half. The sound of fabric ripping was like its own sex noise. And there was that glorious chest, nothing between them. Randall unbuttoned Tom’s shirt as Tom’s hands figure skated across the smooth skin. Their bare chests met when they kissed again, a bolt of heat on this cold, cold night.

“I have lube,” Randall said. He patted one of his pockets under Tom’s thigh.

“And magnums?”

He patted the same pocket. “You know it.”

Tom wanted to give him an Eagle Scout badge for preparedness. Tom reached behind him to rub the huge mound in Randall’s jeans. He couldn’t wait for Randall to burrow his length inside that tight hole. Randall let out a grunt of pleasure that swelled Tom’s cock even further.

“Wait.” Tom opened the passenger door. He dismounted Randall and fell onto the road as gracefully as he could manage.

“What are you doing?”

He got on his knees outside the car and unbuttoned Randall’s jeans and pulled down his boxers. That familiar pillar of pleasure shot up in the air.

“Hello, old friend,” Tom said. He wanted to make sure that what he saw two weeks ago wasn’t a figment of his imagination, some mythical creature that had gotten bigger in his memory.

It. Was. Not.

“Oh tannenbaum, oh tannenbaum,” he said. It was not the only thing that Tom liked about Randall. It didn’t compare to Randall’s caring side, but it was still something Tom could enjoy.

“You going to rock around this Christmas tree or not?” Randall asked, just as quick with the references.

Tom’s lips slid down the fireman’s pole. Calling it a candy cane would be doing Randall’s member a disservice. Randall moaned in his seat. Tom stroked him as he sucked, his hand barely managing to get all the way around his dick.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” Randall’s cock filled his mouth completely as Tom took him all the way to the base. His thatch of pubic hair brushed against his lips. Tom came back up for air before he gagged.

“Holy shit,” Randall repeated as Tom licked his balls. “That was…holy shit.” It was a gold star for Tom. He gave the cock one more suck, for good luck, then rolled on the condom.

He got back in the car and shut the door. Tom pulled down his pants just below his ass. He realized he should’ve done this before he got back in the car, but he didn’t want to take his pants all the way off in case someone did drive by. He pulled out his cock from the mess of denim just beneath his crotch. The air of the heating vent hit his exposed ass. Randall slipped a lubed finger inside him.

“Fuck.” Tom writhed against his finger. He wished he’d stretched before getting in this position, but he was ready. Really ready. He pushed away hair that got in Randall’s eyes. The guy was beautiful, but in that moment, Tom saw a different kind of beauty, the kind that radiated from his heart and mind.

Tom rocked back and impaled himself on Randall’s thick cock. He bit his lip as it breached his tight ring of muscle. Fuck, it felt good to be filled up like this, completely taken over. He bounced on that cock, his hands pushing against Randall’s glistening chest.

“Ride it,” Randall grunted out. He slapped Tom’s pale ass.

Tom went faster and clenched around his cock. Their eyes connected over the soft light of the radio player and residual light from the houses. Tom loved falling back into Randall’s dick. Randall held his hips in place and fucked him, his animal strength in full focus. All those hours spent lifting kids had given him excellent upper arm strength. Randall didn’t wince under the weight of Tom on his lap. Another benefit to his rigorous Santa duties.

His cock pounded into Tom’s puckered hole. Tom took his hand off the handlebar, used by parents teaching their kids to drive, and stroked himself. He was already close to coming without a hand on himself. Watching Randall’s intense face as he thrust inside was such a turn on. Tom rubbed his cock across his sweaty abs for lubrication.

“Fuck.” Randall went faster, and Tom tightened around him, waiting for the finish.

“Yeah. You feel so good, Randall.”

“We made it through sex without any Christmas puns,” Randall said.

“We did.” Tom arched back. His cock was so fucking hard and red. He whipped his hand up and down as Randall went balls deep inside him.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!” Tom yelled as he sprayed Randall’s chest with streaks of come.

Randall shot him an “Anything you can do I can do better” look.

“AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE!” Randall emptied himself into his magnum condom. He pulled out of Tom.

Tom fell back against the glove compartment. He wiped his forehead with the bottom of his opened shirt. “I love the holidays.”