Ho Ho Homicidal Maniac (Murder and Mistletoe #2)

Chapter 16

Nico

I have many fond memories from my grandpa's cabin. Learning to hunt, knit, make simple meals over the fire. Even hard days of training when he put me through my paces ended up feeling rewarding when he praised me for my endurance. He knew that if I were to succeed at becoming the next Christmas Killer and remain anonymous, I needed to be disciplined, strong, smart, and decisive. And then, if all else failed, the survival skills he taught me were supposed to save me if I needed to go off-grid.

The cabin is where we brought the decapitated body of my first kill. It’s hard to imagine only seven years have passed since that cold evening. Some days it feels as if it were yesterday, while at other times, I don’t know where the years have gone. I was so excited that night I almost left behind a glove, but Grandpa was there to pick it up.

I miss him .

My grandpa’s old cabin isn’t all that far from my hometown, but we’d originally headed in a different direction, so between the snow and the narrow roads, it took another few hours to reach it. But once the atmosphere between Blake and me cleared, the drive passed with silly games, trying to find a Christmas song Blake likes (yet to be determined) and easy conversation. I’m still upset over his betrayal, but I’ve found it in my heart to forgive him. Now that we’ve learned about his brother’s intentions, he seems more inclined to put his trust in me, the one man ready to be there for him.

He opened up about how he was raised, and how his brother resented him even before their parents died. Carl is fifteen years older than Blake, and in hindsight, Blake can see that his brother’s jealousy has never extinguished. He just learned to hide it better, and since kind words and gifts kept coming, Blake attached himself to his only remaining family member and was unable to view their relationship critically.

That’s now over, and as he reminisced about his life, I could see his facade crack whenever we returned to his brother in one way or another. He even recalled a conversation from a few months ago which now seems so ominous.

His brother took him out to the movies, and treated him to dinner after, which was unusual in itself, but Blake was just happy to hear about Carl’s escapades in the Maldives. At the restaurant, Carl nonchalantly mentioned Blake’s inheritance, and suggested that maybe nothing would need to change once Blake came of age. In that scenario, Carl would remain in control of both their money and continue managing all of Blake’s finances. When Blake pushed back against that idea, they had what felt like a minor disagreement at the time, and the topic never came up again. But in light of the facts we’ve discovered, Blake’s wondering if that evening wasn’t the trigger for Carl’s plan.

If Blake had died before his eighteenth birthday, his inheritance would have gone to charity. But now that he’s stepped into adulthood, the money will be Carl’s in the event of his brother’s death. How awfully convenient.

And if he died as a result of hooking up with a stranger, their departure captured by cameras inside a gay club, who would have suspected the caring big brother of foul play?

Things like that happened to sheltered gay boys sometimes.

But as we talked, it became clear that Blake really didn’t spend that much time in Carl’s company. The gifts he received were expensive but rarely tailored to Blake’s taste or needs—empty tokens given out of obligation rather than love.

His life sounds very lonely, with only a couple of adults who were paid to keep him safe and content. He had an imaginary friend for way longer than what could be considered normal childhood development, and he would sometimes sink into books for days at a time, consuming one, or even two within a period of twenty-four hours. He used to go on long walks around the property surrounding his house and imagine exciting events happening to a different version of him, a version surrounded by companions straight out of Blake’s favorite shows and novels.

It sounds like a very empty existence, which explains his desperation to put himself out there during his first-ever time at a nightclub. Be seen. Be noticed. Actually feel someone’s hands on his skin .

But now he has me, and I’ll give him all the attention he could ever dream of.

My car can deal with the snow-covered road just fine, and as we drive past the old tree that serves as a marker on the road to the cabin, I’m hit by a flood of memories of all the days I spent here with the only other person who knew the real me.

It’s so fitting that I introduce Blake to this side of my life.

As the wall of evergreen firs and pines thins, revealing the clearing around the little wooden building, I realize this is the first time I’ve been here since the summer, and that it looks lonely and cold in the light of dusk.

I imagined this would be a fun trip down memory lane and an introduction to another part of me. Instead, it could have played the role of a murder cabin. Which it kinda is. But I don’t want Blake to start overthinking it, so I force myself to smile and stop the car.

“And here we are! Our little safe haven,” I say, feeling unconvinced myself when I spot a raccoon jumping out of the window and skittering away. Can’t believe those little fuckers got in again!

Blake stretches and opens the door, his green eyes taking in the dull, undecorated building that’s surely as cold as a freezer. “Well, there’s no way they’re gonna track us down here ,” he says, sliding into the snow reaching almost to his knees.

I get out quickly, not even sure where to start. I’ve been here in the winter many times, but by myself or with Grandpa, I didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone.

“Very few people know about the existence of this cabin. Even Owen doesn’t because I didn’t want to risk him asking if he could use it for a romantic getaway, or something.” I approach Blake and pick him up so he doesn’t have to wade through the snow. “We’ll be nice and cozy as soon as I get the fire going.”

Blake yelps and wraps his arms around my neck. He’s tense, but as I make my way to the porch of my second home, he leans ever closer, melting against me.

“You’re really strong,” he mutters, resting his head on my shoulder in a way that lights fires deep in my chest.

“This reminds me of the first body I ever brought here.” I sigh as I set him down on the porch. Thanks to the roofing over it, the snow isn’t so deep here. “It was winter back then too. And even without a head, it was heavier than you.”

Blake stares at me and releases a nervous laugh. “Are you saying I’m too thin?”

“Or maybe I’m just that much stronger than I used to be.” I nudge his chin. I want to kiss him, but I’m not sure where we stand after the whole assassin fiasco. He threw me under the bus with that one. Then again, we did hug at the supermarket, and that didn’t feel like a gesture between two friends , so maybe that nosy lady was on to something. I could, of course, try to make my move and risk getting rejected. It wouldn’t be a big deal with anyone else, but I feel so tender about Blake and our budding love story that I’m too nervous to act. This is my opportunity to show him the real me, and I don’t want to waste it.

I open the door, and while the house doesn’t smell, which is a relief, the main room is messy, dusty, and cold. It’s the opposite of Christmas at a time when I want to teach Blake about holiday joy.

“Make yourself comfortable. This place will be homey in no time,” I say before dashing outside. Getting firewood is my priority, because the house is a walk-in freezer.

I’m well-versed in getting this place warm, and once the fire is going in both the main fireplace and the burner in the bedroom, I take a moment to assess damage. Fortunately, the cabin is small enough to heat up quickly. The pest came in through a broken window, which I block with a few planks and some paper. It did get into the pantry and broke a few jars, but I can’t see any other issues.

Soon enough, our breaths stop creating vapor, but the cabin remains gray as mud.

Blake pulls a chair close to the fire and sits down, watching me work. “Do you come here often?”

“Are you flirting?” I wink at him as I clear the surfaces. This is a disaster. At least I know the bedding is clean and dry. As soon as the bedroom is warm, it’ll be ready for us to enjoy a cuddle. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I don’t usually have guests here. The last time I wasn’t alone here was with my grandpa four years ago.”

Blake’s face darkens, and he pulls up his hood, watching me from its shadow. “No, I get it, my brother always has someone prepare our other properties before he actually goes there.” He clears his throat as I watch him, struck by the level of wealth we’re talking about. Other properties ? As in more than one? Blake must think I brought him to an absolute dump.

I wrestle my thoughts, wondering how to answer when he speaks again. “You must miss your grandfather. As family but also, you know, as someone who supported you when it comes to—”

Killing . That part of the sentence is silent.

I throw another piece of wood into the fireplace, taking my time with the answer since I wasn’t expecting the turmoil in my heart. “I do. But he was so much older, he knew I’d need to be able to deal with his death sooner or later, so he talked to me about it, prepared me for it. For the responsibility of running the shop, for keeping my… needs met and secret. And even encouraged me to date. He was sweet like that. But he drilled into me that I can’t tell anyone what I do in my spare time. And that’s a loneliness I wasn’t prepared for.”

I’ve already switched on the generator, which allows us both to see just how thick the layers of dust are on every single surface. Blake swallows as he watches me clean, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious about being judged by this pampered boy, who likely didn’t have to clean his room once in his entire life.

“I think I get it. There’s a difference between understanding things intellectually and actually living with the feeling,” he says softly.

I go to the pantry to grab a can of tomato sauce, so I can make us pasta, but the food here won’t be as good as what I was able to treat him to at my place.

I glance at his pretty face. He’s young, but has strong brows, and his jaw is already quite angular. It’s his eyes though that always draw me in, so inquisitive as they follow me through the room. I want to keep him so badly.

“Why did you choose to run your podcast anonymously? Didn’t you want to be known? Unlike me, your calling isn’t illegal.”

Blake shrugs and reaches out for the fire, as if he wants to grab the flames in his beautiful fingers. “Carl thought it might put a target on my back and draw in the wrong kind of people. I mean, even you are a fan,” he adds with a faint grin and looks up at the shadows on the ceiling, where I’m disgusted to see a whole tapestry of spiderwebs. If I were here alone, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but I want him to have a good time in conditions that are appropriate to the season. And Halloween was a long time ago .

“This place reminds me of my treehouse. It had a roof just like this, with beams. I would dry plants by hanging them off there.”

I’m so greedy for any little scrap of new information about him. “I hope that’s a positive comparison? I’ll make this place much more festive soon, I promise. I packed some Christmas lights, and we can dry orange slices.”

I decide to sweep the floor before doing any cooking, even though this cabin is more of a hunter’s mancave than the setting for a romantic escape. I don’t know why I remembered it as much cozier, because it’s clearly beneath Blake’s standards.

My guest nods and leans back in the armchair, wiggling his feet over the floor. He’s biting his plump lip in a way that has my dirty mind stirring, but he’s clearly not in the mood, so I focus on my work.

“Maybe it’s not worth all this effort?” Blake asks, freezing me to the floor. “We could just follow him to Aspen, have the Christmas Killer be a guest star of the serial murder scene there.”

I still, but my mind is racing. He hates it here. He wants out and once I get rid of his brother, he’ll be safe to untangle himself from me and my ugly dark cabin, the Christmas shop he hates, and my greedy hands.

I’m not letting that happen.

I shake my head, sweeping with more fervor. “We can’t do that yet. It will be much safer to end him when he’s back in a place I’m familiar with. And I’d like to prepare. I have satellite internet here so I can do some digging. That assassin he hired was no amateur. I need to know what I’m up against.”

Blake lowers his gaze, and his hand tightens on the armrest of the chair as he stares into the fire, likely desperate to convince me that we can’ t stay here. “But that’s also giving them time to track us down, and Carl has all the resources.”

I put the kettle on the stove, hoping hot chocolate will soothe his fears. “It’s been snowing, and I cover my tracks when using the internet or phone. We’ll be safe here.” I walk up to him and stroke his hair. “ You are safe here.”

“I’m kinda putting my chances of leaving this place alive at seventy percent,” he tells me and follows that with a hollow laugh.

My heart drops. “You don’t trust me?”

Blake shoots to his feet. “I didn’t say that.”

I take off my hat and throw it to the other armchair. My basket with knitting supplies is still where I left it last time I visited. “ What are you saying then? I know this place isn’t like the luxurious getaways you’re used to—”

“I’m not used to any getaways , because Carl wanted to keep me close to home. I was supposed to start traveling at eighteen. I’m just scared, and unsure, and I don’t know what will happen to me in the future so I made a joke,” comes out of his mouth as he approaches me. “Don’t you see that my life is ruined?”

I step closer and cup his face. When I touch him, it’s as if the room lights up with non-existent fairy lights, suddenly cozy. The fire crackles, sharing its warmth with the room, and the fragrance of wood is so unbelievably soothing.

“It’s far from ruined. This is just a bump on your way to a fantastic life. You will have everything you ever wanted, I’ll make sure of that.”

Blake’s lashes flutter, and he hesitates for only a moment before clasping his fingers on my jacket. “All this just because I’m your type? ”

I run my thumbs over his cheeks, now annoyed that the kettle is starting to whistle at me, because I don’t want to go deal with boiling water when I have a fire in my hands.

“It’s not just that. I feel a connection with you. A bond I made over the muzzle of a gun when you pointed it at me when you saw me. And it doesn’t matter if you want me. You still have me.”

A wave of intense emotion wells inside me, crashing over the jagged rocks of my heart. I don’t know where this journey will take me, but I’ll just follow Blake’s tide.

“I have you?” he asks so quietly I prepare myself for another rejection, but then he’s grabbing at my cheeks and pulling me down until our lips touch.

My hands settle on his flanks, then around him, and I wish he was out of his coat already so I can feel him better. I ignore the kettle long enough for the whistle to sing, and it sounds like fireworks to my ears, a colorful explosion above us as I greedily part his lips with my tongue.

I need him to feel the depths of my devotion. My hunger is insatiable but at least I get to taste his lips.

The broomstick drops from my hands, and Blake shivers, pushing into my arms as it hits the floor. I pull him with me to turn the gas off on the stove without taking my mouth from his, and his breath whispers between our faces when we move. He tastes of the sweet tea we got on the way here and of youthful desire, which cannot, and will not, be stopped.

“You smell so good,” Blake whispers as I maneuver around the kitchenette, only to stumble against the wall behind the side of the counter.

“So you still want me?” I utter, needy for reassurance after the spat we had after our first time together. I’m selfish enough to slide my hands to his ass, and it awakens so much lust in me, I’m already getting hard.

Blake whimpers, getting to his toes as I squeeze him, and there’s no faking the bliss flooding his features. He wants my touch too, and I roll us against the wall, so I have him sandwiched between me and the wooden logs. He trembles and all but submits by showing me his pale throat.

“Yes…”

I kiss his neck, then bite and suck, set on leaving my mark. We’ll stay here a while. No one but me will see. “I’d do this even knowing it’s another trick,” I mumble between one nibble and another, sliding my hands to his front just so I can get the damn coat off him.

“No trick. Just me,” Blake says, letting his hands descend my sides. The light is faint, but I still see that his cheeks grow redder by the second as he captures my gaze. “I want to—” He stalls, as if he lost his voice, but moments later, as I’m buried in his sweet neck, I feel him cup my bulge.

I groan like a bear awoken from winter sleep. “All yours. Bed?” My breath is getting raspy and I finally slide my hands under his coat. There are more layers. A hoodie, a T-shirt under it, but I’m that one step closer to his beautiful body.

He meets my gaze, but then he’s lowering himself, and I can barely breathe, because in my dreams I’ve had him kneel for me so many times already, and I can’t fathom that it’s happening in real life.

“This is how I imagined it,” he drawls as his breath tickles me through clothes.

I pull off his hat to slide my fingers into the dark curls on the top of his head. “Oh, you imagined it, have you? You could have seen it sooner if you just said the word, sweetie.” I unbuckle my belt with one hand, unwilling to let him go. If he wants to see it, I’m happy to give him a front row seat. And oh, how he wants to see it.

His eyes widen. He dampens his lips, ready to taste me. And by the time the sharp growl of my zipper cuts through the silence, he’s rocking his hips in excitement. “I want it now,” he utters, out of breath as if he’s sprinted here from the nearest town, just to warm my cock with his mouth.

Heat floods my whole body as if the fire is right next to me. I waste no time as I push my jeans down along with underwear, revealing his prize. I never expected for things to get so frantic within seconds, but I don’t want to wait either. We’ll have time for more later, but now, my mind is clouded by the sight of my hard cock slapping his pretty face as it bobs out of my clothes.

He whimpers, staring at it like a cat greedy for cream.

“You like what you see?” I ask.

He nods, wide-eyed and full of excitement so pure he almost looks innocent with the hard shaft in front of him. I worried before that he might have given into sex earlier just to appease me, but I’m now confident of his desire being true.

“It’s… it’s so close,” he mumbles, resting his hands on my hips, not yet daring to touch my dick with his hands.

I smirk and stroke my cock in front of him. I need to only lean a single inch forward for my cockhead to brush his lips. My balls tighten at the touch. I want to be inside him so badly, and if he’s still too skittish to give me his ass, I’m more than happy with his mouth.

“Show me your tongue,” I say, excited beyond reason. This will hardly be the first blowjob I’ve ever had, but it might as well be because my focus is on Blake only. On his fluttering eyelashes, his beauty spots, his flushed face, and the way his pupils follow my every move. And maybe it’s wrong, but yeah, I’m turned on to be the first guy to put that mouth to use.

He obeys me without question and reveals the soft, pink bed I want to rest my dick on. He’s trembling, but not in fear. He loves this.

His palms are warm on the sides of my hips, then my thighs as he strokes me in rough, circular movements, never looking away. He never closes his lips either, as if he’s daring me to act, to take his virgin mouth and teach him how to pleasure me.

“You have no idea how much power over me your mouth has,” I whisper, sliding my cockhead over his tongue. The bliss flooding my body manifests in the pre-cum drizzling from my dick. I love how eager he was to do as told. He’s so fucking perfect for me. I stroke his hair in appreciation, and he leans into my touch, eager for praise.

I shut my eyes when his soft lips slide over my cockhead, closing just behind it as his agile tongue paints circles on my tender flesh. He squeezes the backs of my thighs, as if he were worried I might try to push him away as he’s getting his first taste of cock. I smile, amused by his desperation.

Unprompted, he hollows his cheeks and sucks on my cock as if it were a piece of candy.

I groan in pleasure, meeting his gaze. I want him to see desire painted all over my face. “That’s it. So good…” I slowly push farther into his hot, wet mouth, and feel it pull me in. He’s ecstatic to be on his knees for me. “Feel every vein with your tongue.”

I have to open my jacket, because I’m getting too heated, but his eyes flutter shut as he takes a bit more in, exploring his prize. He’s hot and smooth as stones rested in the summer sun. As I’m drawn deeper into his welcoming heat, reality falls apart around us, transforming the dreary cabin into a den of pleasure. I’ve never brought a lover here before, but now I want to transform this place into our nest, where we can make as much noise as we want without alerting the neighbors.

“Closer,” I demand, gently pulling on his head so he can back out if it’s too much for him. I wish I could fuck his mouth until he can’t breathe, but I don’t want to scare him off. I’ll ease Blake in so he gets to know my cock first. “Feel it pulsing so hard? I can’t wait to flood your pretty mouth with my cum. I wanna see it drizzle down your chin.”

I’m so horny I can’t help but rock my hips, heat boiling my head, and he answers, opening wider as he leans in. Oh, he’s so ready. I bet he wouldn’t protest if I decided to switch things up and tried to take him from behind. I still remember how he rocked against my dick in bed, his hole begging to be filled. But I don’t have the patience for that when his tongue is a red carpet for my cock, so I roll my hips forward, hitting the back of his throat.

Blake chokes, withdrawing, but when I tighten my grip on his hair, he doesn’t fight me and catches his breath while holding my dick on that velvety tongue. For a moment, I worry I’ve scared him, but when his eyes meet mine again, damp and full of emotion, I know he’s still on board, still wants me.

With determination flashing in his gaze, he relaxes his shoulders and moves forward, inviting me deeper into his hot channel.

I plunge in with a short, controlled jab. I want him to feel what he’s up against. I’m of substantial size, and I love to see his lips stretch to accommodate my girth.

“Go on, moan. I wanna feel it on my cock,” I rasp, pulling back only to stab into his waiting mouth. I wonder if he likes my taste as I spread it all over his tongue. Once I’m done using his mouth, I’ll be removing all of those pesky clothes. He must be boiling inside that jacket, but I kind of love how red that makes his skin.

Blake chokes again, but this time he stays put even as tears roll down his face. His breathing is frantic, and I grin when he pulls closer and humps my leg, seeking his own satisfaction while he’s struggling to give me mine. His dick must be aching for release, but he’s too focused on me to even consider unzipping his pants.

The soft hum he makes resonates through my body and caresses my balls, so I still, just letting myself feel it while the darling at my feet fights the natural reactions of his body to please me.

It's so hot, I lose my cool and speed up my thrusts, plunging my cock into Blake's mouth, and I trigger his gag reflex nearly every time. But a part of him seems to like that too. He sucks me with so much devotion I already imagine a ring on his finger. I know I won't last much longer, but I make the final jabs count, gripping his hair as I push deep into his throat.

“Oh fuck! So good. I’m gonna train you to take it. You look so good right now with my dick deep inside you,” I babble, flushed and brainless.

When he murmurs something and glances up as if to ask if he’s doing a good job, I lose it.

I come so hard I worry he’ll choke, but gripping his hair feels automatic when all my muscles tense.

He coughs, trembling against me, but he keeps holding onto my legs, as if he wants to make sure I don’t leave him like this. He loves it. He wants to be here, on his knees, in my shabby cabin, worshiping the cock of the Christmas Killer.

I have him now.

He’s mine.