Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by diva311 "I'm not used to being kept waiting," Damon warned with surpressed impatience. He lounged in an old leather chair cracked with age, one designer Italian shoe propped on the battered coffee table before him. The cramped apartment Matt lived in off campus was full of an assortment of second-hand furniture. "I'll be right out!" came Matt's voice from the bedroom. A stranger looking in on the scene might see a darkly handsome young man casually tapping his foot in boredom, but those who knew better would recognize the almost imperceptible motion as a sign that Damon's patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!" bellowed Matt as he strutted into the living room, striking a pose before Damon. He wore only a red velvet thong that tightly hugged the growing bulge beneath and a matching santa hat tipped jauntily to one side. "This is what you called me over for?" Damon growled, though Matt noticed his eyes trailed over his toned physique appreciatively. "It was this or the Ding Dong Jingle Balls Bikini," Matt shrugged, grinning sheepishly. Damon wasn't amused. He gathered his jacket slung over the back of the chair and slipped into it silently. "Come on, Damon. Don't be like that. Lighten up. It's Christmas, after all. Don't you even want to sit on Santa's lap and ask him for something?" Matt wiggled his hips suggestively. Damon didn't take off his jacket, but he sat back down and stared at the wall with brooding eyes. "In Italy we don't ask Santa Claus for things. Instead, it's traditional to write letters to your parents, expressing your love and gratitude for them. We would place the letter under father's plate to be read after the Christmas Eve feast." Damon's gaze turned inward and his eyes darkened at what Matt supposed was a bitter memory. "My letter never did quite compare with my saint-of-a-brother's." He focused his attention back on Matt. "Oh, yes. Did you know the day after Christmas is /La Festa di Santo Stefano/? Forgive me if I don't have particularly fond memories of this holiday. I always just wait for the Epifania and Carnevale." Matt wasn't quite sure how to approach him in his current mood, but he sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table before him and placed a hand on Damon's knee. "Why don't we make our own memories?" Damon grunted in response, staring hungrily at the throbbing vein in Matt's throat. "Wait a minute. Before we get to any of that, I have a present for you." Matt went back to the bedroom and returned with a small wrapped box. "Is this necessary?" Damon asked, focusing again on Matt's neck. "Just open it." Damon tore into the red wrappings and gave Matt a flat stare. "You must be joking." Inside was a g string, Christmas red in color. A white bow covered the crotch and the tag attached read, "Be a delicious package for your special someone." "Do you like it?" Matt asked, eyes twinkling. "Get in the bedroom," Damon ordered. Matt obeyed. It was going to be a very Merry Christmas.