A.N.  Just in case any innocents read this, here's a reference.


There’s an elf reading in his bed, Santa cap rakish over perfect brows, dark-
rimmed glasses perched on a neat little nose.  The very picture of Christmas
domesticity, if not for the so-invitingly bare torso and the hand busy under the
bedclothes.  

“Starting without me, Doodle?”

“Mmmm.  Nice script, but they’ve got the sex all wrong.”  Elijah pulls his specs off
and smiles expectantly.

Sean loses his clothes and gets into bed, a string of red beads dangling from his
hand.

“Robbing the tree, Sean?”

He palms the hard ridge of muscle tenting the blanket and grins back.

“Stocking stuffer, Lij.”


                                                           ~~~~~
ADORNING ELIJAH