Miles woke slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so comfortable. His bed was soft and warm, a nest of pillows and blankets. The younger man reveled in the sensation, stretching languorously and snuggling back into his pillow. He was alone in the bed, but the gentle ache in his body reminded him of his Master. It had taken months of coaxing and ‘lessons,” but eventually Stephen had shown to Miles that his body wasn’t a weapon to be used against him. In fact, with Stephen, Miles found lovemaking to be a true pleasure, one he cherished sharing with the older man. Even so, it would take more time before he felt comfortable sleeping with his owner, if he actually ever reached that point. There were just too many memories for the young slave to overcome.

For a long time he drifted between true wakefulness and sleep, enjoying being cozy and secure. Eventually, a delicious smell tickled his nose. Waffles. Miles smiled sweetly, the scent and the bright sunlight warming his face bringing him a little closer to really waking up.

Wait a minute… sunlight on his face?

That thought woke Miles all the way up, fast and hard. Their day at the NIH started very early. Usually, he and Stephen were commuting to work when the sun came up; it was totally wrong to be abed in full daylight.

Miles threw the covers off and lurched to his feet. He’d pulled on a soft pair of flannel sleep pants when he’d crawled into bed. A knit shirt was draped over a nearby chair and he sloppily pulled it on as he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Stephen’s voice was cheerful as he greeted the slave. He was standing in front of the counter, keeping an eye on the waffle maker.

“I’m so sorry that I overslept,” Miles apologized. “You should have woken me up.”

Stephen’s responding chuckle was warm. As Miles came closer, he put an arm around the slave and drew him close for a good morning kiss. “Miles, what day is it?”

The slave leaned into his owner’s warm body. The adrenalin rush from thinking he’d overslept had worn off and the sleepiness had returned. Neither he nor Stephen had slept much the night before. Miles didn’t regret the lack, having enjoyed himself thoroughly, but being so tired was making it hard to think. “Um… Sunday?”

His Master laughed again, but Miles wasn’t offended. Stephen was often far too serious; he was glad whenever he had the opportunity to lighten the other man’s load a little.

Stephen kissed the top of Miles’ head and, keeping one arm around the slave, turned to tend his waffles. “It’s December 25, Miles. Doesn’t that date have some sort of significance to Christians?”

“It’s Christmas,” Miles whispered hoarsely.

Miles hadn’t been around many Christians since being chained. Since becoming a slave, he had usually been too immersed in his own misery to know one day from another.

“That’s what I thought,” Stephen said, taking out a nicely browned waffle and pouring more batter in. “It was our Sunday to be on-call, but Natalie was willing to switch.”

The slave frowned. “You took the day off? You’re not a Christian; Christmas isn’t your holiday.”

Stephen looked at him in fond exasperation. “But you are and it’s an important holiday for your faith. I think I can spare one day off.”

Miles smiled, deeply touched. “Thank you, Stephen.”

“You’re welcome,” the doctor responded formally. Then he grinned. “I do believe that presents are part of the Christmas tradition. Look on the table.”

When Miles did, he saw a large box wrapped in bright, seasonal paper. It was a wonder that he hadn’t seen it before, even as groggy as he’d been when he entered the kitchen. Miles looked at Stephen for permission.

The older man nodded and pushed Miles gently towards the gift. “Go on.”

Miles grinned and eagerly stepped over to the table. It had been a long time since he’d been given a Christmas present and, at first, he savored the unwrapping experience. Once he got a first glimpse at the box underneath, however, he abandoned dignity and shredded the paper with abandon.

He stopped breathing when he saw what the package contained.

It was a set of medical texts. Many of the titles were familiar to him, either from his former existence as a medical student or from Stephen’s collection. Several of them were new to him, however, and Miles spent many happy minutes looking at them and running reverent fingers across their covers.

“I take it you like your gift. I thought it fitting; every doctor should have his own references.”

Miles looked up to find that Stephen was standing in front of him, an expectant look on his face. “I don’t know what to say.”

Stephen cupped one hand to Miles’ cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. The look on your face is more than enough.”

“You’re too good to me,” Miles whispered.

The slave was mortified. Stephen had given him so much already and now here he was helping Miles to celebrate Christmas for the first time since loosing his freedom. Miles was desperate to think of a way to repay his owner, even in some small way, for all that Stephen had done for him.

“Stay right there,” Miles instructed the other man.

He left a bemused Stephen in the kitchen and hurried off to his bedroom. Once there, Miles scrabbled for the top drawer of his dresser. Underneath some folded shirts was a homemade bookmark that Jack, Stephen’s son, had helped Miles to create the last time the couple had visited for the weekend. It was simple, just a favorite picture of the three of them adhered to colored paper. The craft project had been an attempt to keep the boy busy while Stephen and his ex-wife discussed some issues, but it had turned out well. Miles had put the finished product away without showing it to Stephen, thinking that he would save it for the older man’s birthday, but now he had a much better use for it.

Grabbing the bookmark carefully, Miles hurried back towards the kitchen. He stopped as he was passing the living room and darted in quickly. Miles had recently received a small plant from Eva and, murmuring a soft apology to it, he broke off a short stem before proceeding to his original destination.

“It’s not much,” Miles said as he handed the bookmark to Stephen. The plant piece, he kept hidden behind his back.

Stephen stroked the bookmark. “I love it.” When he lifted shining eyes to meet Miles’, the young man knew his owner was telling the truth.

“And I have something else for you to,” Miles said shyly, tentatively approaching Stephen. He held up the sprig.

The doctor looked at it askance. “Are you trying to tempt me into becoming a vegetarian again?”

Miles grinned sheepishly. “You have to pretend that it’s mistletoe.”

Stephen cocked one eyebrow. “I do? Why?”

“So I can do this,” Miles explained, wrapping a hand around the back of Stephen’s neck and pulling the older man down for a thorough kiss.

When they pulled apart, Miles was pleased to see that his Master was flushed. Except for his Claiming, Miles hadn’t initiated physical intimacy and it was gratifying to see it have such an affect on his owner.

“I think I’m going to like this holiday of yours,” Stephen commented, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

“It’s not all kissing,” Miles admitted. “A lot of it’s church and hymns and being together.”

Stephen startled, looking at his watch. “Which reminds me, we better get moving. There’s a church not too far from here that’s holding a Christmas mass that I thought you might want to go to. We’d better eat breakfast and get ready.”

Miles felt his throat tighten with emotion. Stephen had thought of everything. What other Master would care if he got a chance to observe his religion?

“That is, if you want to go to a service,” Stephen said tentatively. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Miles.”

“No, I want to,” the slave responded firmly, pushing the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him aside. He had plenty of practice doing that, but this was different. This time, the emotions were happy ones.

“Good,” Stephen stated. He plated the waffles and placed one in front of Miles. “Now, dig in.”

Miles happily complied, eating with gusto as he watched Stephen do the same. As he chewed, he thought about his change in circumstances. From abused pleasure slave to beloved companion; even after several months, it was enough to make his mind whirl. One thing was for certain. Miles hadn’t written a letter to Santa for years and years. Now, he never would have to again, because in Stephen, he had everything he could want. Not just in a Master, but in a life partner too.

“Miles?”

The young man looked up at Stephen’s question. “Yes?”

“You said that Christmas was about more than mistletoe and kissing,” the doctor commented wistfully. Stephen got a hopeful look on his face. “But… will there be more kissing?”

Miles grinned. “Definitely,” he promised. “Very definitely.”

~the end~