First Christmas

For Keeps VI – First Christmas
by elfin

Throwing the pan of sprouts in the sink and the tea towel over his shoulder, Robbie called out, "Mike? Can you get your hands out of Jackie's sweater and fetch me the brandy?"

A few seconds later, Michael appeared behind Robbie's shoulder where he was leaning over the hob, tenderly stirring the warm cranberry sauce.

"How did you know?" he asked with a smile as he reached around and put the bottle on the work surface.

"Because that new sweater you bought her is irresistible to the male hand."

Laughing, Michael wrapped one arm around Robbie's waist and lightly bit the back of his neck. "Imagine it," he murmured, flicking the tip of his tongue along the edge of his lover's ear, Jackie pressed between us wearing that baby-soft sweater, rubbing against us...."

Robbie tried to keep his groan to himself. "Will you behave yourself?" he ground out, determined that their Christmas meal wasn't going to end up like so many other meals had done over the last year.

Squirming out from Michael's embrace, he picked up the brandy and crossed to the fridge. Taking out the cream, he dug a spoon out of the drawer next to his hip. As he opened the bottle, he glanced over his shoulder and laughed. Michael was leaning against the work kitchen cupboards, expression smouldering, eyes hooded.

Robbie's dick immediately responded, and it was all he could do not to pin Michael against the work surface and take him there and then.

"Don't think you're getting around me like that either," he warned, hoping he sounded convincing.

Michael shrugged, then smiled to himself. He waited about half a minute for Robbie to pour the first shot of brandy into the cream. Then he crossed the kitchen, dunked his index finger in the tub, and once he was sure he had Robbie's curious attention, he sucked his finger into his mouth, licking the cream from it luxuriously.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Don't...." But Michael had already scooped another finger of the alcoholic cream and was touching it to Robbie's lips. He couldn't resist. Opening his mouth, he licked his tongue around the steady digit.

Michael's eyes followed each movement until he leaned in and caught his own finger between their mouths.

When Michael's tongue, sweet with cream and brandy, insinuated itself into Robbie's mouth, he gave in.

"Oh, God..." he muttered before closing his lips over Michael's and kissing him deeply.

"Hey!"

They broke the kiss abruptly, both men turning, seduction replaced by guilt.

Jackie was standing in the doorway, arms folded, tapping her foot on the tiled floor.

"Can you two not keep your hands off one another for ten minutes?!"

Robbie indicated the cream and the brandy. "It's his fault! He started it."

Michael tried for innocence and failed miserably.

Jackie nodded. "Thought so. Go and set the table, and if I find the two of you fucking on it, there'll be trouble!"

Robbie wiped the tears from his eyes, but they were only replaced by more.

He started when there was an urgent knocking on the window of his car and looked up, caught.

Seeing Jackie he sighed, relieved, and opened the door.

It was pouring with rain. She could only have been outside for thirty seconds and already she was soaked to the skin. He could feel the downpour start to soak him too, despite the relative shelter of the car.

"Robbie...."

He stared at her, knowing that the exhaustion was starting to seep through the caffeine-filled cracks of his masquerade. How he'd kept it up this long, he would never know.

"He'd wouldn't want us to be miserable," she told him, pleading.

But he shook his head, laughing at the irony of that statement. "I can't do this anymore, Jackie. If I have to laugh at one more of Burke's 'jokes' I'll punch him."

For a moment, she smiled at the imagined humour in his words. But there was no lightness in his tone. Ignoring the rain soaking through her flimsy blouse, ignoring the cold making her shiver, she said, "I thought you were okay. I thought... you got on with him."

"I thought I didn't want to bury my career by making life difficult. But now I'm not so sure. You're soaked. Go back inside."

She stepped back as he reached for the handle and pulled the door shut, gunning the engine. A few moments later, the Audi peeled off across the hotel car park, headed for the exit.

A perfect end to the worst Christmas party she'd ever been to.

Turning, she almost walked into Heather. Bright woman, Heather. She'd brought one of the hotel's courtesy umbrellas out with her.

"Jackie you're wet through!" Stating the obvious, but Jackie let it go. "Is Robbie all right?"

"Aye, he will be."

"It's Michael, isn't it?"

She'd kept her composure while talking to Robbie, but at the mention of her dead lover's name, tears sprang to her eyes too.

Heather reached for her, drawing her under the brolly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's all right." Slowly they walked back towards the hotel lobby. "I thought I was fine."

"It's Christmas Eve, we always mourn loved ones more this time of year."

Jackie nodded. Christmas Eve. She'd done nothing this year to celebrate. She hadn't bought any presents, hadn't shopped for any special meal. The only thing she had done was have a wreath made up of holly, mistletoe and snowdrop flowers for her to take to the cemetery on Christmas Day.

Michael had been murdered almost a year ago. For a while, she and Robbie had been unable to cope without one another, but as time went by, they became reminders of Michael, constantly bringing back happy memories and forcing themselves to accept what they'd lost.

"Which one of you's on my foot?"

Michael tried to pull his leg out from under his two lovers. The three of them were sprawled on the sofa, stuffed after the meal that had finally gotten prepared despite the two men not being able to keep their hands off one another for very long.

The wooden floor was covered in torn wrapping paper. The armchair and coffee table were strewn with gifts. Beside the sofa, a plate of chocolates and marzipan-filled dates was sitting as yet untouched.

One of the television channels was showing an old James Bond film now that the Queen had given her speech.

"I think it's me," Robbie answered Michael's query, lifting his ass. "Unless that's not your foot...."

Rolling her eyes, Jackie leaned down and snagged her wineglass. "It's empty."

"That'll be because you drank it all." Robbie crawled up Michael's body, stole a long kiss that tasted of coffee, and swung his legs over the cushions. "White or red?" he called back.

"White."

"It's the last bottle."

"You'd better stick the Baileys in the fridge then."

Robbie was frowning when he came back into the room, bottle in one hand, corkscrew in the other. "You are gonna feel like shite tomorrow. And you have to get up and go to your parents."

Jackie groaned. "Don't remind me." Holding out her glass as steadily as she could while lying on her front over Michael's legs and stomach, she grinned as Robbie half-filled it.

She took a mouthful, swallowed it, and then placed the glass on the carpet. Michael's arms tightened around her and he pulled her up until their mouths found one another. Robbie stayed back, filling his own glass, watching as they kissed. They were both beautiful.

Jackie had the most amazing smile he'd ever seen. She was intelligent and able to handle herself, something Robbie found a turn-on when he never thought he would. She was also an imp. She had a wicked sense of humour and in bed her nimbleness and dexterity let her keep up with both her male lovers.

Michael blew his mind each and every time Robbie so much as looked at him.

Off-duty, he was relaxed, loving and playful. He craved affection, as if very few had ever shown him any in his life and those who had had asked for a price higher than Michael could afford to pay. Robbie just loved to touch him, to be physically close, whether they were fucking or just relaxing.

At work, on duty, it never failed to amaze him how professional Michael always was, how detached and yet at the same time, never pretending that there was nothing between them. A sly smile, a brush of shoulders, a long, lingering glance.

On the rare occasion they worked for other DCIs, he and Jackie had a habit of being pains in the ass. But Michael could leash them with a gentle glance or a few quiet words. If anyone had been looking for the signs of a closer, personal relationship, surely they would have seen straight through the act.

But if anyone had, they'd never said a word.

Ending the kiss with a satisfied hum, Michael tipped his head back and smiled at Robbie; eyes large, warm mouth slightly open.

Despite the copious amounts of wine he and Jackie had consumed, Robbie's body reacted to Michael's mere expression.

They'd perfected the art of getting all three of them on the sofa at once. This time, Robbie badgered Michael until he and Jackie scooted downwards, then slid in behind his lovers.

He drew Michael back against him, one arm around his waist, and let his wineglass dangle from his other hand. Jackie was still lying over Michael, legs over the far arm of the sofa. On the television, Roger Moore was pushing the limits of yet another classic car. It was a small slice of heaven in their usually chaotic lives.

For Jackie time had healed. She still missed Michael every minute of every day. But the pain, which had been unbearable at the start, had dulled to a constant ache that made her happy to have had so much of Michael's time and love.

For Robbie, it seemed the opposite was true.

She'd accused him, only weeks after Michael's death, of sucking up to the new boss, of forgetting so soon how it had been to work for the man they'd both loved. He'd told her then that he was simply making life easy for them all. Being friendly and having a couple of drinks at lunchtime with Burke didn't mean that he loved or missed Michael any less.

And over time she'd come to agree with him. Burke, despite his almost ritualistic mannerisms, his reliance on procedure and not instinct to solve cases, cared for them; she, Robbie and Stuart. He never forgot that they'd been Jardine's team before his, that they often hurt when something suddenly reminded them of their beloved boss, and he seemed to be able to drop Michael's name into conversations with ease, just to let them know that he'd never be forgotten.

It became easier to hear his name. To have him talked about now and again made it feel like he was still with them, just around the corner, off doing his own investigating.

But she found herself working more and more overtime. Robbie too had thrown himself into the job, pulling away from her when she'd hoped they'd grow closer, maybe even carry on the relationship of which Michael had been the centre for so long.

On the rare evenings she found herself at home, she'd bury herself in a book or lie awake wondering why her life was falling apart.

Then a couple of weeks ago, an old friend had called. She and Lisa had been at college together, and having spent most of her adult life in London, Lisa had moved back to Glasgow. It would be lovely to see Jackie again, would she want to go out one night for drinks?

They'd had a wonderful evening reminiscing about old times and old friends. After the bars had closed, they'd gone back to Lisa's flat and over a bottle of wine Jackie had spilt everything about the intimate threesome she'd been a part of for so long she wasn't sure she'd ever love another man again.

Since then she'd seen Lisa almost every week. Films at the local cinema, meals out, drinks, even a club one Friday night where they'd attracted the interest of two very nice men, one of which Lisa had taken home with her.

That night, she'd called around to Robbie's on her way home. They'd had a flaming row and she'd left.

Nothing had been the same since.

And now, finally, she knew why.

"I miss him too," Heather told her as Jackie tried her best to dry off under the hot-air blowers in the Ladies toilets.

"Robbie, Michael and I were close. For me, having so many memories of him makes it easier to deal with. But for Robbie, it just seems to make it harder."

Heather smiled gently. "I guess," she started carefully, "when you love someone, when they fill such a special place in your life, it's almost impossible to let them go." Jackie stared at her. And after a few seconds, Heather shrugged. "That's Michael's signet ring he's wearing. I just put two and two together and came up with three. Don't worry, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone. I'm glad he was happy, glad you both loved him."

Jackie smiled too. "We did. Very much. In a way, however much I loved him and still do love him, I think he and Robbie gave one another something neither could get from anywhere else."

*

"Will you two please go to bed!"

Jackie, standing just inside the bedroom, and Robbie, peering around the bathroom door, were both giggling like kids.

Robbie wished he had a camera. But he wasn't sure that photos of one of Glasgow's senior detectives, wearing nothing but a Santa hat, a single sock (not on either of his feet) and holding two other, longer socks stuffed with fruit, nuts and small presents, would look great in the headlines.

Not that Michael didn't look absolutely gorgeous standing there on the landing.

"You're doing nothing for my belief in Santa Claus, Mike."

He couldn't resist. "If you go to bed, I'll try harder."

"Now that's an offer I can't resist."

Grabbing Jackie as he went passed, Robbie dropped them both on to the bed in a sprawling heap.

"Better." Head held high, white furry bobble bouncing against his nose, Michael followed them into the bedroom and wrapped the top of each of the two present-filled socks around the bed posts. His two lovers watched him with hungry eyes.

"Can we have the contents of the other sock tonight?" Jackie asked as innocently as possible. It was dangling unceremoniously off Michael's rampant erection.

Robbie laughed out loud. "I want everything below the hat."

Coming around the bed, hands on his hips, Michael admired the view. "What if I just want to watch?"

"Depends what you're gonna do in my sock!"

Reaching out, Jackie and Robbie both grabbed an arm and hauled Michael down to join them.

*

Robbie crouched down next to the grave, setting the white roses, wrapped in Christmas-patterned tissue paper, onto the new grass in front of the headstone.

"Merry Christmas, Mike," he murmured through his tears.

Whenever he came here, the crushing pain of loss was tempered by a peace he'd never understood. Whenever he left, he felt like he just might be able to cope.

But the feeling only lasted a few hours. Because here was an end. But it wasn't his end.

"Ah, Mike...." Letting his tears fall to the grass, Robbie just cried.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there for when Jackie's arms reached around his neck and she hugged him from behind, her chin on his shoulder.

"Hey," he greeted softly, reaching one hand up to squeeze her arm gently.

"Hi. Happy Christmas."

'Not really.' But Robbie kept the words to himself, turned his head and smiled. "Happy Christmas to you too."

Leaning against his back, she put her wreath onto the grave. "Merry Christmas, Michael." And for a few minutes, they just sat silently.

"Stuart hasn't been up yet," she murmured after a while.

"He and Jamie are spending the day at his parents. He'll come this evening."

Jackie smiled at him. "I'm impressed."

"Aye well," he shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Stuart and I have had a lot more in common recently."

Pressing a kiss to Robbie's neck, Jackie ran her hands down his arms. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly, "about everything."

"Nah, it's me, Jackie. You've been trying to get on with life and I've been clinging to the past. It's been almost a year, I should be able to... to let go." But his self-berating words were choked off by his tears.

"There are no rules about grieving, Robbie. You're gonna miss him for the rest of your life."

"There's a 'but' in there, Jackie."

"No there isn't. I know Michael loved you more than anythin' in the world. And I love you too."

"And you're still here."

She recognised the tone of his voice and just hugged him tighter.

Mobile phones and bleepers sitting on the coffee table, Michael and Robbie sat on the floor being stared down by a Sony AIBO.

"Congratulations of buying your new pet, the Sony AIBO, ERS-210A series."

"Rover."

Michael dropped the manual. "Rover?"

"What else are you goin'a call it?"

"Him."

"Him."

"Rover?"

"Aye. He looks like a Rover."

Michael shrugged. "Okay - Rover it is."

The expensive robotic dog had been their Christmas present from Jackie. Apparently they'd saved her so much in heating and food bills, since she'd been living two-thirds of her life in their flats, that she'd been able to afford something special.

None of them had the time to look after a real pet. They could only hope that it would get used to having three homes. And three owners.

"Okay. Press your finger up against the sensor pad under the chin for three seconds and then say the name you've chosen for your AIBO. The AIBO will then remember it's own name and react to it as a real dog would."

Reaching out to the squatting robot, Robbie pressed his finger up under its chin and waited, counting quietly, before saying, "Rover."

The dog barked once. A pause, and then it stood up on all fours and walked over to Robbie, wagging its tail.

"Awww!" Robbie patted its head. "That's so sweet!"

Michael grinned. "Would you look at yourself!"

"Heartless bastard," Robbie muttered, smiling adoringly at his lover.

Michael hummed softly. He stretched out, lying on the floor of Robbie's lounge on his back, one arm folded behind his head.

Attention removed from their new ward, Robbie let his eyes drift over Michael's prone form. Taking a few moments to admire his lover, he crawled over on all fours and leaned down, touching his lips to Michael's.

He felt fingers wrap around his neck and sighed softly. "What are the odds of us being called out on Boxing Day?"

"Substantial. And that increases exponentially with every item of clothing you or I take off."

Sweeping the tip of his tongue over Michael's bottom lip, he grinned.

"So... if you were naked, fucking me, and I was naked beneath you... we'd almost certainly be disturbed."

Michael's cock leapt at the suggestion. "Aye."

"Wanna chance it?"

....

"Oh Jesus...."

Robbie dropped his head back to the rug as Michael inched further inside him.

Lips tickled the back of his knee, teeth nibbled the sensitive skin there.

Breathing deeply, the pain was slowly replaced with the exquisite pleasure of Michael's steel cock stroking lovingly over his prostate.

Robbie scraped his nails over Michael's shoulders. He wanted to beg, to plead, to scream. But it was all he could do just to keep breathing.

Another half an inch of Michael's thick erection slid inside him with aching slowness.

Leaning over Robbie, Michael covered his mouth with his own and their tongues danced.

Holding himself up on strong, sure arms, palms flat on the floor, fingers spread, Michael thrust forward slowly until he was buried to the balls.

It was the most intimate they could be. The most intimate either of them had ever been with anyone. The tops of Michael's thighs were pressed against the underneath of Robbie's. His testicles were trapped between his own perineum and Robbie's. His lover's cock was pushing up against Michael's stomach, asking, begging for attention.

Slowly, Michael arched his back, sliding out of Robbie's body only to take his time thrusting back inside.

Robbie's groan was nothing but a single breath released from deep inside him.

"Love you."

Either of them could have said it. Both of them were thinking it.

Unable to hold back any longer, Michael's movements became more urgent. He started to thrust, eyes locked with Robbie's.

Fingers clawed at Michael's back, each scratch followed by a soothing caress. Robbie lifted his head, lips suckling at Michael's neck for a few scant seconds before he collapsed back, yelling his lover's name as he came hard, coating his own and Michael's stomach.

The shudder of Robbie's body around and under him fired Michael's orgasm. He pushed into Robbie's ass, cock pulsing, nerves exploding.

His arms gave way, and Michael collapsed half-on, half-off Robbie's body. Robbie's hand - the one that wasn't trapped beneath him - was stroking his sweat-covered back. Tilting his head up, Michael stole a kiss before sliding from Robbie's shoulder to the rug.

"Mike.... That was.... You're...." Robbie could feel Michael shaking his head back and forth against the top of his arm. "I know. Shut up."

"It's not the same, Jackie," Robbie stated after a long time. "I love you. But Michael...."

"I know what he gave you."

"You don't." Brushing the tips of his fingers over the grass in front of them, Robbie sighed. "Stuart'll tell you how hard it is to be in this job when you have a thing for guys. But to find Michael... oh God, Jackie...."

"Is that why you're shutting me out? I know he was the heart of us, Rob, but he'd want us to go on, you know he would."

"I don't know how much of me I have to share anymore."

Hugging him tighter, Jackie dropped a kiss to his hair. "I'm not asking you to share. I just want you to live. It's Christmas Day, Robbie. Let's go find a turkey and some cranberry sauce and make sandwiches."

Squeezing her hands, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

As they started back down the slope of the cemetery, it began to snow.

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