Blowing out a breath, Bryce nodded at his reflection. “Okay, Santa, let’s go.”
Chapter eleven
Christmas in Hell
Bryce
Once he gathered enoughcourage to leave his bedroom in the goofy costume, Bryce returned to the kitchen and checked the cinnamon rolls, relieved they were taking shape. Baby Jesus was once again whole, so he added the figurine back to the nativity scene. After pouring himself and Zef some coffee—using Zef’s Saturday coffee mug—he added a splash of cream to theirs, drinking his black.
In the living room, he hunkered down beside the small Christmas tree, wincing when the shorts rode up his butt crack, giving him a wedgie. “For Pete’s sake,” he muttered as he wiggled in place to dislodge the fabric.
Zef’s bedroom door opened, and Bryce turned in their direction to let them know he had their coffee ready. The words died in his throat as they came to a stop beside the couch wearing a short, strapless red dress lined with white fur and green-and-white-striped elf tights. Sweet magical baby in the manger, Zef was dressed as a sexy Mrs. Claus.
They’d clearly altered the dress to add holes for their lower arms, but their shoulders were bare, clavicles on display. The hem of the flared skirt was so short that, even with the leggings, it felt inappropriate to even look at them. Their hair was loose under the Santa hat, wavy thanks to the braid they’d slept in last night.
Heat pooled in Bryce’s belly as he scanned them from antenna to socked feet and back again. He had always thought Zef was beautiful, but this was something else entirely. And for some insane reason, it was working for him on an alarming level. No, no, no, he couldnotget an erection right now. Not in these tiny shorts!
Zef cocked their head at him, studying him as closely as he had studied them, though there was no heat behind their gaze. They scrutinized him in a reserved, but appreciative way, like an art connoisseur enjoying a painting or an outdoorsman savoring the mountain view. There was fondness and warmth, but noheat. Which, given he was dressed assexySanta, pinched his ego, just a bit.
“Your Christmas outfit is very fetching,” they said at last, antennas quivering. “I find your body hair a physically attractive quality. You should be proud of it.”
Taken aback, Bryce gaped for several seconds before he managed a weak, “Thank you?”
“Does this look alright?” They pressed two palms to their stomach, shifting their weight. “Is it fitting for the occasion?”
Their rare show of insecurity had his own misgivings fading to the background, and Bryce smiled up at them. “Yeah, Zef, you look great. You’re perfect.”
Zef’s cheeks darkened, and they dropped their gaze, fingering the white tulle keeping their skirt flared outward to show off more leg than shouldhave been legal. They crossed the room and knelt down opposite him, sitting back on their heels.
Pointing at Bryce’s thigh, they asked, “You have a scar. What happened?”
He glanced down at the blotchy skin of his upper thigh. “Oh, I got burned when I was kid. Hot water.”
“How terrible,” they said, and he shrugged.
“It was a long time ago.”
With a hum, they scooted forward and angled their head, drawing their hair aside to reveal their elegant neck. Toward the base of their skull, right under their hairline, was a thin scar. “I was pushed from a balcony when I was young.”
“What?” Bryce cried in horror, and Zef startled at his sudden volume. “Someone pushed you off a balcony?”
“Yes. I was smaller than the other children my age, and I did not… fit in socially. It was cause for bullying.”
A pang of familiarity shot through his chest. “I was bullied too. You know, for being fat.”
Zef’s thin brows drew down. “How utterly ridiculous. Your form is very aesthetically pleasing.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said, before shaking his head. “Wait, go back. You’re sayingchildrenpushed you off a balcony? That’s, like, attempted murder!”
“That is a bit dramatic,” they chided, and he barked a disbelieving laugh.
“I think I’m giving the correct amount of drama, here. How high up were you?”
The Mantodea thought about it for a moment. “Not high enough to truly harm myself, but since my wings were underdeveloped, I could not cushion my fall very well.”
There were so many things about that statement Bryce wanted to ask about, but he settled on, “Wait, can you actually fly?”
“Not in the way you mean. My ancestors could, but evolution has resulted in smaller, more fragile wings.” Zef straightened their spine and offered Bryce an almost sly tilt to their head. “So while I cannot fly, I can fall gracefully.”
