This was originally intended to be a one-shot, then a shorter story. It's now grown in scope as they have more and more baggage to unpack. So this is going to be a much longer story than anticipated and I hope you're willing to stay with me for the long haul.
The story is based on the song 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. Parts of this chapter were also inspired by her songs: peace and the 1.
Luckily, I arrived at my parents' house without crashing the rental car. I'd gone a year without wrecking a vehicle and if it happened while I was back here in Trenton, I would lose my shit. I was crying hard, but there was no one else out on the roads at this hour, and I drove at a snail's pace. I should have pulled over until I could get myself together, but I was deathly afraid of Ranger coming after me to continue our discussion. Knowing him, he'd want to lay out ground rules for our friendship, just like he did for what he swore was an arrangement. Whatever. I never got a say in setting the ground rules for it, so I didn't figure he needed my input now, nor did I plan to maintain a friendship with him anyway. If he pushed me on it tonight, I might rip into him, saying things I couldn't take back. I'd used up my full allotment of calm, cool, and collected and was afraid I might turn completely feral on him. I'd taken advantage of his state of shock, from me agreeing so quickly to his asinine request, and just walked away from him. Thankfully, I didn't see him in my rearview mirror, but I was driving so slowly I feared he'd drive ahead, beating me to the house. When I didn't find him parked out front I sighed in relief.
Mercifully, everyone inside was in bed and no one witnessed the snotty, sobbing mess I was when I arrived. Completely drained, my muscles were taut and my head was starting to throb. I knew sleep wouldn't come easily, so I took advantage of being the only one awake and took a long, hot shower. The crying didn't ease up, but at least by this point the tears just streamed silently down my face while I sat on the shower floor, arms wrapped around my knees, waiting for the exhaustion to give way to numbness. It never came, but the end of the hot water did and that's what forced me out of the shower and into bed. It was no surprise that sleep was elusive. Even though I was completely wrung out emotionally and physically, the racing thoughts wouldn't stop. What if I hadn't left in the first place? What if I'd had the courage of my convictions and turned him away all those times he came to me? What if I'd stood up for myself then, and valued myself more? If one thing had been different, would everything be different today? My mind was running in high gear, thinking and overthinking, reflecting on every detail of what Ranger had said, what I'd said, and what his face and body told me. If this was happening while I was awake, I was petrified of what my brain would torture me with when I finally fell asleep. Eventually, my body lost the battle and I drifted off into a fitful sleep sometime just before dawn.
While I was awake unusually early the day before, this morning it was after 9:00 am when my mom knocked on the bedroom door. I was still in bed, tired and emotional, my stomach so twisted with anxiety it was causing me physical pain. "Steph honey, are you up?" My mom called from the other side of the door.
"Ugh," I grunted, my head ached, my eyes felt like someone had poured an entire sandbox in them, and my throat was scratchy. She asked if she could come in. I grunted in the affirmative, words still eluding me. It felt like I'd only fallen asleep five minutes ago. I heard the door open and the sound of her sensible shoes on the floor as she approached the bed. I peeled one, and then both eyes open to look at her.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked, looking worried, leaning over to place her hand on my forehead like she did when I was a kid.
"Yeah, just tired," I managed, my voice rough.
She made that clucking sound with her tongue like all mothers did, smoothing my hair away from my face. "Probably jet lag," she diagnosed me. "You were up early yesterday and your body is still adjusting to the time difference." Oh, that was a great excuse! Why didn't I think of that? In my mind, jet lag was a choice, and this time I was choosing it. I just needed time to give myself a chance to shore up the walls I'd built around the pain. For over a year I'd kept the real reason for leaving from my family and I wasn't interested in trauma dumping on them today, but I was feeling too exhausted to put up much of a front. I was going to sleep half the day for old time's sake and prepare myself for the craziness of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
"That must be it." I agreed, grateful for the excuse she'd given me. I tried to look as pathetic as I did when I was in middle school, trying to fake an illness to get out of having to take a test I'd failed to study for. It wasn't too difficult with my crying hangover. Plus I had already failed miserably, this time I'd failed to recognize I'd been in denial about having a chance at a relationship with Ranger for over a year.
"Well, you should get some rest." If only it were that easy, I thought to myself. "Valerie, your grandma, and I can deliver all the cookies and your dad is leaving to pick up a few fares. The house will be quiet so you can get some sleep." The house would be quiet, I hoped my mind would be the same.
"Thanks mom, I'll rest up and be ready for tonight." My mom kissed my forehead and told me to try and get some sleep before heading downstairs.
In the small house, the sounds of my family carried up the stairs easily as everyone got ready to leave. The door opened and closed several times as my dad hauled load after load of cookie boxes to the cars. My mom and Grandma were bickering, over who would make the delivery to Widow Szabó, the crazy old Hungarian woman who lived on the corner. She was an 80-something-year-old self-proclaimed Gypsy who inspired fear in the Burg that rivaled Joe's Grandma Bella. While they argued, I could hear the din as Valerie tried to corral her girls, had they all gone to the bathroom, washed their faces, and kept their sticky fingers out of the leftover cookies and candy? The energy she expended every time she had to get them out the door exhausted me. In my mind, it was like the third circle of Hell. My sister believed in what she called gentle parenting. I didn't know what that was, but to my untrained eye, it appeared to be asking her kids to do something a thousand times in a sweet sing-songy voice. Then after asking them one additional time she'd completely lose her shit on them and feel guilty about it later.
My mom tried to help or make suggestions but Val always declined, refusing to be more firm with them, citing their trauma. The girls had walked in on their dad boinking the babysitter as she was bent over the kitchen counter, ending their parents' marriage. Shockingly, I agreed with my mom for once, but what did I know? I only parented a hamster. He'd witnessed plenty of trauma in my shithole of an apartment but I'd never seen it affect him. I mean he never thought he was a horse or that if he did everything right and was a perfect child his dad would come back and mom wouldn't be sad and mad all the time. He just ate, ran on a wheel going nowhere, and hid in a soup can. Now that I thought about it, none of that sounded very well adjusted either. Did Rex get his denial tendencies from me? Maybe I should have tried Val's methods. Well, it didn't matter now. Rex passed away at Thanksgiving last year and was buried in the backyard. His death was just another thing that got added to the pro side of the pros and cons list made before deciding to leave Trenton.
After thirty minutes of chaos, it was blissfully silent as the front door slammed for the last time. I slept for a little while, but only in half-hour increments, disturbing dreams plaguing me. As soon as I'd hit REM sleep, my reeling thoughts took over, creating bizarre scenarios. After the fifth time, my mind conjuring up visits by the Ghosts of my Christmas Past, Present, and Future, I gave up. I needed help. I got out of bed and headed to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, there had to be something to help me sleep: melatonin, Tylenol PM, something. Nope, none of that, but there was a bottle of lorazepam. Yes. The prescription was my mom's. A couple of years ago her drinking got a little out of control, the stress of hearing about my disasters, grandma's outrageous behaviors, and the gossip around Val's pregnancy sending her over the edge. A divorced single mom in the Burg was scandalous. Dad finally convinced her to see a therapist. She stopped drinking almost entirely. They prescribed lorazepam to help with occasional panic attacks or racing thoughts. It was a small dose and not a medicine you had take every day, but only when needed, she called it a PRN.
I'd been prescribed it myself on a few occasions after some of my scarier episodes while bounty hunting: Stiva, the Slayers, and when Ranger was shot. Scrog. It was more for the nightmare of Ranger being shot than anything else. My doctor prescribed therapy each time as well, but I always refused. I grew up in a family who liked to ignore our problems. If we don't talk about it, it will go away. No wonder I was so good at living in denial. But the lorazepam stopped the panic attacks and my racing thoughts so I could sleep. They tried giving me Ambien for sleeping but stopped after I received packages in the mail from random companies in Asia. I had no memory of ordering anything, but checking my banking app, I found charges for things in the wee hours of the morning. After taking a pill, I'd find an ad on social media for some gadget and decided I needed it. I'd also found half-empty pints of Ben & Jerry's in the fridge instead of the freezer, but the remote for the TV in the freezer. I didn't mind the remote so much, but wasting perfectly good ice cream was criminal so no more Ambien.
I took one of Mom's pills, knowing it would work and be safe. After counting sheep, I only got to 87 or 89 before I was out. While the lorazepam didn't make me shop online or ruin high-quality ice cream, it did make me dream. They weren't nightmares, but vivid and sometimes sexy dreams that generally starred one Ricardo Carlos Manoso. While I wasn't really happy with him right now, if I was dreaming, my mind was in control of his behavior and he owed me for his dumbass friend request. I drifted off into dreamland hoping for a silent and naked Ranger. If he wasn't talking, he couldn't say anything to fuck it up like he usually does. Or maybe, I could go back far enough in time to when things were good between us, one could only hope.
I was being held upside down over Ranger's shoulder. He had one arm wrapped around the back of my thighs to hold me in place, and with every powerful step he took, my body was jostled against his. While at somewhat of a disadvantage, my position was not without perks. For one, I had a perfect view of a very fine, tight Cuban ass, and a free hand. Not one to waste an opportunity, I helped myself to a generous handful. He twitched slightly at my unapologetic groping and growled, "Babe," as a warning. I just giggled, careful not to spill the half-full bottle of expensive champagne I clutched in the other hand. He came to a stop and I heard the click of an electronic lock opening. Continuing into the hotel room, he paused only to throw the locks. I guess he didn't want to be disturbed.
Once the room was secure, he brought his free hand up and under my short skirt to give my ass the same treatment I'd given his. I wriggled against him to get him to put me down, but the movement had the unintended benefit of grinding my pubic bone into his shoulder and I moaned at the sensation. Ranger landed a smack on my ass that was intended to get me to stop my movements, instead, it had the opposite effect. My hips jerked at the sting of his blow, pressing my clit into his collarbone. I shuddered and moaned at the feeling. Ranger groaned, the placement of his hand leaving no doubt of how warm, wet, and ready I was for him. He let me slide down his front, ensuring every part of my body rubbed against every part of his on the way. I grinned at him and tipped up the bottle of champagne to take a long drink before offering it to him. He took a pull before walking me backward until we were in the sitting area, setting the bottle on the side table, next to the oversized chair.
Rangeman just finished a takedown in one of the banquet rooms downstairs and had rented the suite as a base of operations. It had gone so well that Ranger invited me to stay and celebrate with him. I'd used the room to get ready before playing my part in the distraction, not wanting to traipse around town in this get-up. I thought it was ridiculous, but the look in Ranger's eyes told me he was enjoying it immensely. Having to lure a CEO out of his holiday party required a certain look. Edward McLaughlin was a creep who liked to dress as Santa for the occasion, allowing him to grope and sexually harass his female employees. That was an unrelated character flaw, his larger crime being embezzlement. He'd skipped bail, and Rangeman was tasked with bringing him in. Ranger was dressed in one of his custom-tailored Armani suits to fit in with the partygoers. But not me, I was dressed as a Christmas Elf to match McLaughlin's Santa Claus. I was sporting an emerald green, stretch velvet mini dress. It had an empire waist with a low scoop neck, causing my breasts to nearly spill out. Both the skirt and the sleeves flared out and were trimmed in white fur. The skirt only came to about four inches below my ass, which was two inches above the tops of the red and white candy cane striped thigh highs that encased my legs. Emerald green suede booties complete with a curled toe and spiked heel finished off the look. My curls were pinned up, and a tiny red and green hat with a gold bell sat atop my head.
Since I was feeling the champagne, I decided to pull on the tiger's tail and tease Ranger a bit. Licking my glossy red lips, I batted my false eyelashes at him, "Do you think I look the part? I gave myself an elf name to get into character." He raised an eyebrow in question. Giving him a sexy smile, I told him, "Sugarplum." He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. Running his hands up my sides, he leaned in and kissed me, a slow, hot kiss that promised there was much more to come.
Moving from my mouth, he kissed his way along my jaw to my ear, "Fitting, you're very sweet." He nipped at my ear as he ran his hands down to cup my ass, pulling my body into his. His voice dropped as he added, "But maybe it should have been Vixen." I moaned and tilted my head, giving him more access. He took the hint, kissing, licking, and nipping the skin along my neck and down to my collarbone.
"Mmm," I hummed in appreciation, "Yeah, but I wouldn't have wanted to give McLaughlin the wrong idea," Ranger growled and ground his hips into mine. I let out a throaty laugh, "Is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
"Babe, it's a lot thicker than a candy cane." Don't I know it? He pulled back and looked at me. "I wanted to break every finger on that fucker's hand on the spot when he pinched your ass."
I ran my hands up and over his shoulders, tangling my fingers in his dark silky hair. I tilted my head up and kissed his neck. "You poor baby, you had to wait until you had him out of the ballroom to do it." I pulled back to look at him, and he smirked, he didn't think I'd seen him give in to the impulse. "I don't know why you're complaining anyway. It was my ass that got pinched." I pouted, "And that old man has bony fingers. It hurt." Ranger slid his hands under the hem of my skirt and into my panties, gently caressing my ass.
"I'm sorry Babe, do you want me to kiss it and make it better?" I moaned at the thought.
"Maybe later. I worked very hard to get that dirty Santa away from the party. Now, I want to sit on your lap." I pulled back, trailing my fingers down his arms. Taking his hand in mine, I led him to the chair. Moving my hands back up to his shoulders, he allowed me to push him down until he was seated in front of me. Keeping my hands in place for balance, I climbed into his lap, straddling him. Leaning over I grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck, taking a long pull. I lifted the bottle, silently asking Ranger if he wanted a drink. Rather than take the bottle from me, he simply opened his mouth in invitation. Fuck, that was sexy. I raised the bottle for him, settling the rim on his lower lip. I slowly tipped it, allowing the liquid to flow into his mouth. I lowered the bottle as he swallowed, but not quick enough. A trickle of champagne dribbled out. Quickly catching the droplet with my tongue, I then traced his lower lip to be sure no more had escaped. Ranger took the bottle from my hand and placed it back on the side table. He began running his hands up and down my sides, teasing me.
"So Sugarplum, have you been a good girl this year?" His hands moved higher and he used his thumbs to tease my nipples through the dress.
"Hmm?" I was lost in the sensation and failed to answer. He leaned in and nipped my earlobe, "Have you been a good girl?" his voice was low and husky. I shuddered and rocked my hips against his.
I moaned, "That depends, on which answer gets you to stuff my stocking." That made him laugh, and the way it vibrated through his body and into mine made me moan. His mouth moved down the column of my neck, while his fingers came up to trace the neckline of my dress and the generous cleavage it revealed. He began pulling the neckline down under my breasts, revealing the red lacy bra underneath, his fingers lightly trailing over the fabric, teasing me. It only lasted a moment, before he hooked his fingers in the cups and pulled them down as well. His lips sought out my nipple, licking and sucking on the right one, keeping the left from feeling neglected by rolling it between his thumb and finger, then brushing this thumb lightly over it while cupping my whole breast. When he switched sides, my head fell back at the feeling and I rocked my hips against him. As his hands left my breasts, I let out a murmur of disappointment, but the feeling was short-lived. He slid one hand down, under the hem of my dress to palm my ass, positioning the other just under my shoulder blades, supporting me as I arched backward. Rocking my hips forward, I groaned as he used the hand on my ass to pull me harder into him as his hips thrust up into mine. The friction of my center rubbing against his cock and his mouth sucking hard on my nipple sent a tremor through me, every part of me tightening almost to the point of pain before shattering me into a million pieces. I clung to him, my hands gripping his biceps as he held me while I rode out my orgasm. I leaned into him until our foreheads touched.
My voice was rough, "If that's what being on the nice list gets me, what do I get if I promise to be very, very naughty?" He barked out a laugh, the sensation sending another shockwave through me.
He groaned in response, and in a low, sexy voice told me, "Oh, don't worry, either way, I've got a big present for you." Rocking his hips he emphasized just how big it was. Lucky me! Sliding both hands under my ass, he held me tight to him as he stood effortlessly and moved us towards the bed. He tossed me onto the middle of the bed where I landed with a bounce. This fun, sexy, and even silly Ranger was one of my favorite sides of him. It felt extra special because I was pretty sure I was the only one he shared it with. He kept his eyes on me as he started stripping, first his jacket followed by his dress shirt. Seeing he had my full attention, he started to make a show of it, slowly working each button. I was afraid I'd be drooling by the time he was done.
My eyes dropped below his belt, his arousal obvious. I licked my lips, "Hmm, your stocking is hung." He gave me a smug look, a wicked grin on his face. I didn't begrudge him the look, I knew as well as he did that what lay behind his zipper was impressive, as was what he could do with it. While he was unbuckling his belt, I moved to pull off my dress. but stopped when a sound came from deep in his throat. I glanced at him, he shook his head slightly. I raised both brows in question. "You want me to leave it on?" He nodded and I laughed, "I never knew you had a Christmas kink."
His eyes turned dark, "Not going to turn down an opportunity to eat out an elf." My whole body flushed with his words and the image they created. Emboldened by his obvious desire for me, I got to my hands and knees, and crawled over to him, taking over the task of getting him naked.
"Come on, show me your North Pole." I teased. When I took too long, he batted my hands away, wasting no time stripping out of the rest of his clothes. He pulled me to him, kissing me before moving us both to the center of the bed. Pausing only to slide my red lace boy shorts off, he indulged his fantasy, licking and sucking my clit into his mouth, while filling me with his fingers before reversing tactics, rubbing my clit with his fingers and penetrating me with his talented tongue. After making me come twice, he crawled up my body and finally settled himself between my legs. He kissed me hard as he slid into me with one long thrust. We both moaned, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Nothing compared to the weight of his body on mine and the way he filled me so completely. Pulling back, he paused, his eyes raking over me before flexing his hips and thrusting deep. The pace he set was neither frantic, nor slow and sensual, but fell somewhere in the middle, playful and fun. Rolling us so he was on his back and I was straddling him, he gave me free rein.
There was something incredibly erotic in him being completely naked while I was still fully clothed, even beyond the Elf Factor. It always turned me on when he couldn't even wait to get our clothes off before he had to be inside me. His impatience was so out of character and it gave me a thrill knowing I could bring it out in him. Not one to miss an opportunity to drive him crazy, I moved my hips in a circular motion while I brought my hands up to my breasts to tweak my nipples. His eyes darkened and his hip bucked in reaction. "Do you like what you see?" I asked him, feeling naughty, the costume adding to both of our enjoyment, my alter ego giving me a boost of confidence.
"Fuck yeah," he gritted out as I changed my movements, now bouncing up and down on his cock. My hands left my breasts as I braced my hands on his chest. He gripped my hips, to help stabilize me, "Good, hold on because I'm going to ride you like a reindeer." And I did, using my body to drive us both to the finish line.
We laid together afterward, not feeling the need to talk, just enjoying the closeness. After a while, he sat up pulling me with him, and began stripping me out of my clothes until I was as naked as he was. When he finished, he pulled out the bobby pins that held the hat in place and then those that held my hair up. Threading his fingers into my curls he gave me a long slow sensual kiss. He held my eyes as he leaned back to lay his head on the pillow. Tucking one arm under his head, he crooked his finger at me, motioning for me to join him. I pretended to not understand. Pointing to myself I asked, "Me?"
He grinned at me like he was the Big Bad Wolf. "Yes, you. I gave you your present, now do I get to eat your milk and cookies?" He licked his lips to emphasize his request. His playful request sent a shiver through me. I pretended to think about it for a minute, but he must have been impatient because before I could move he grabbed me around the waist and laid back down, settling me above his face.
He gave me a long lick, making me shudder. Not willing to give in so easily, I tried to keep my voice steady adding my condition, "Fine, but then I get to lick your candy cane." He groaned, sending the vibrations through my body. I moaned and rocked my hips against his tongue, pleased I could have my dessert and eat it too.
I awoke with a start, my body tingling, right on the edge of orgasm. I only hesitated a moment at the thought of taking care of my needs in my childhood bedroom, but rationalized I'd done it in high school, so what did it matter now? My moral dilemma solved, I gave myself some much-needed relief, reliving the night Ranger and I had shared two Christmases ago. The vivid images and intense memories combined with my fingers sending me over the edge, allowed me to find a sense of relief I hadn't had since I stepped off the plane.
Holy hell. I hadn't thought of that night in a long time. I'd nearly forgotten how things had been between us, how easy it was to be together, back when things were uncomplicated and we brought each other joy instead of pain. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how it had all gotten so fucked up between us.
Just now, I recognized Ranger and I always gravitated towards each other at the holidays. Every year, Joe and I broke up right before or immediately after Thanksgiving. The stress of family expectations and pressure to move things along, get engaged, married, and pregnant by this time next year proving to be too much. I'd also suspected it had something to do with him not having to buy me a present and a get-out-of-jail-free card to do whatever or whoever he wanted on New Year's Eve. That left an opening for Ranger and he always took it. The first few years we knew each other he'd stop by with a gift and hang out with me at my apartment, and if I didn't have plans, invite me to spend time with him and the Merry Men. But as we grew closer, things changed. He'd ask me to help out in the control room watching monitors or riding along with him on patrols, as he took on more work himself allowing as many of his men as possible time off to spend with their families. Inevitably we'd work the late shift and fall into bed together, neither of us getting any sleep or being bothered by it. It was almost as if we had a little honeymoon the last week of December every year without ever having the hassle of a wedding.
Then after the first of the year, he would head off to visit the other Rangeman branches, and to spend some time with Julie. By the time he return, Joe and I had reconciled. Our friendship would return to the way it had been before the holidays. Now that I thought about it, it had never bothered me and I'd never thought to wonder why. I also hadn't recognized how the pattern might be influencing how both of us were feeling this year with the distance between us. Why hadn't it bothered me back then? The time we'd spent in that hotel room indulging Ranger's enthusiasm for elves was only six months before we'd gotten more seriously involved and eventually ended our friendship. Reflecting on the time we shared every Christmas was special, it was like a precious gift, but we knew there was an expiration date. We got to indulge in our own Winter Wonderland before returning to reality. He hadn't promised me anything more and I hadn't expected it. So what changed?
Me. I changed. When I ended things with Joe for good I let myself hope for more. Even though Ranger never promised me anything different, the longer we were together, I began to want more from him while he still saw our relationship in the same way. He considered us friends, friends with benefits, friends who fucked. I don't know how he categorized it. He thought we were friends. Best friends. And now he's told me he wanted his best friend back? Well if that was what he expected our friendship to return to, he could go elf himself.