Gay Christmas Romance, Medical, Interracial
Date Published: December 5, 2025
For husbands Peter and Abe, Christmas is a time for miracles -- and
unexpected party crashers.
Peter is all set to make this Christmas season the best for his husband. That
is, until a cat is all but thrown into his lap and an unexpected and unwanted
man crashes at their house for the holidays. Worse than the lack of privacy is
the curtailing of their light BDSM play.
Abe can’t say no when an old flame begs for a place to stay.
Temporarily. This man has fallen on hard times and needs a little kindness.
However, there’s something more he wants than a roof over his head. As
Abe struggles against seasonal depression, a couple of cats come to enliven
the home he shares with Peter.
Between grief, jealousy, and a prying houseguest, can Abe and Peter kindle
their spirits toward lovemaking and the holidays?
WARNING: Holiday Fatigue includes references to cutting behavior and thoughts
of suicide that may be triggers for some readers, as well as mention of animal
cruelty.
EXCERPT
Peter didn’t love the end of the semester, no matter that it meant a day
off from teaching. He would much rather be filling his students’ heads
with math facts than plugging in grades. Of course, if he hadn’t left so
many assignments till the last minute, having graded them but not bothered to
put them in the computer… He threw up his hands in exasperation and
then signed, to no one in particular, “Why do I always do this to
myself?”
He glanced around, seeing he was still alone in the classroom he shared with
another co-teacher. He would normally not worry about others seeing him sign.
Most people were hearing folks and didn’t know more than the alphabet,
if they even knew that much, in ASL. He worked, though, at a school for the
deaf, and the chances of someone knowing he was frustrated were high.
Probably some of the other teachers were in the same boat, having pushed off
putting grades in the computer until this, the last day of the quarter before
winter break. That was of no comfort when his co-teacher, Laura, was done with
her grades and was hanging out somewhere in the building until three
o’clock.
He darted a glance at his watch, saw he only had an hour and a half to finish
inputting grades, and signed a little F-bomb.
An hour later found him sweating and swearing in his head, trying to work so
fast that his fingers kept tripping over each other.
Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped a foot. Turning in his chair, he saw
Laura gazing at him with a look of concern on her face. Then that expression
passed and she wrinkled her nose at him before signing, “Are you still
working?”
He nodded, wanting to return to his work but not wanting to put his back to
her. That was rude.
“Give me your login and the list of remaining grades. We’ll divide
and conquer.”
He hesitated, but only for an instant. Laura wasn’t the type to make
offers like this every day. “Thank you,” he signed. “Why are
you --”
“Consider it the gift from your Secret Santa.” She smirked.
“You forgot we were exchanging gifts in the teacher’s lounge at
2:30, didn’t you?”
“Guilty,” he responded.
“Give me your login and I’ll help. Then you need to give your gift
before your person leaves.”
“Too late,” Peter signed back before handing her a stack of graded
papers. Hands free again, he signed, “Brent’s already left for the
day. His kid got an ear infection on the last day of school.”
“Sucks,” she signed, her face sympathetic.
He jotted down his computer info and walked it over to her as she booted up
her machine. “Thank you, Laura. Really.”
“I forgot to get you a gift,” she admitted.
“This is better than some ten-dollar token,” he assured her.
At exactly 2:58, he shut down his computer. Laura, who was a faster typist
than he was, had finished her stack about five minutes earlier.
“Go home,” she signed. “Just don’t count on me saving
your ass in the spring.”
He got out as soon as he could, his thoughts turning from gratitude to dreams
of his husband. Abe, named for the poet and playwright Kobo Abe, wasn’t
a fan of this particular holiday. Peter had been slowly changing that for his
lover over the years, but each year it was a struggle to find out what would
help Abe forget his pain.
He waved at another teacher as he headed for the main doors. This was a
relatively new guy and for a moment, Peter couldn’t remember his name.
“Hi, Peter,” the unnamed man signed. “Have a good
break.”
Peter frowned, realized he probably looked like the proverbial grouch, and
held up a hand for the new teacher to stop. “What’s your
name?” he signed.
“Estaban.” He grinned. “Spanish as the day is long and a
gift from my immigrant parents that I don’t always appreciate.”
Yes, Peter remembered now. He hadn’t interacted with the new Spanish
teacher since he’d arrived here two months ago because he was on another
floor and that might as well be in another kingdom. “Sorry,” he
apologized. “My brain is…” He shrugged.
“Already on break?” Estaban suggested.
Well, in a way, Peter thought as he excused himself and went outside. He
walked to the sidewalk that paralleled the street. He could order a shared
ride from the front of the school, but he felt restless. It was two hours
before Abe would even be thinking about coming home. All day, Peter had been
thinking, not of the grades or his lackadaisical way of letting them pile up,
but of his husband and Christmas. Now, as he turned down Forrest Street in
Colton, which was the college town closest to their home in Marisburg, he
considered his unusual agitation. Abe had been acting steady as the day was
long for a while now. There was no reason to expect he’d sink into
depression. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if depression was his choice.
Peter looked up when he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and
had to smile. Every single tree had lights in their branches. Most of the
lights were the beautiful, if common, white ones. The tree he was currently
looking at had been decorated in tiny, colorful orbs. He smiled up at the tree
that stood out. He touched the bark of the tree and grinned in appreciation.
He would bring Abe down to see this tree. They’d call it the
“Christmas Pride” tree.
Having a plan for this Thursday night at last, even if it was only to view a
tree that stood out among its fellows, Peter took out his phone to order his
shared ride. Before he could drop his gaze to the screen, he was caught off
guard by another swash of color, this time moving fast. Self-preservation made
him look up as a car, slowing abruptly, seemed to coast in front of him. With
the colorfully decorated tree in the way, he couldn’t see everything
clearly, but something was hurled out of the passenger window before the car
sped off again.
People were such slobs. He wasn’t a trash collector by nature, but
something about the white and black thing thrown out of the car’s window
caught his attention. It was the right size to be any number of things, but
the way it had twisted in midair… He went to the snowdrift where the
careless people had aimed… and when he peered into the hole made by the
object, he saw yellowish eyes looking back at him.
He gaped even as he tore off his winter coat and stooped to scoop up the
little animal. It was a kitten, he realized, or a very small cat if it was
full-grown. Mostly white with black splotches, it hissed at him as he bundled
it into his coat.
The little critter wriggled hard and managed to get a paw free. The cat lashed
out with razor-sharp claws and if not for Peter’s gloves, he would have
taken quite the injury. As it was, one tiny cat nail caught in the leather of
his right glove and the cat opened its mouth wide, surely making quite a fuss.
Peter carefully freed the little demon’s claw and reworked the bundling
so the cat wouldn’t hurt him. If he’d been tossed out of a moving
car, he’d be pissed too.
As he trekked back to the school, thinking of having the nurse check out the
little feline monster before he took them home, the cat’s name flashed
in his mind, and he grinned even as he cautioned himself that surely he and
Abe couldn’t keep this little fighter. He’d try to impress upon
whoever ended up with the cat that his or her name was Catankerous.
As he walked, goose bumps popped out on his arms, which were covered only by a
short-sleeved polo because the school tended to run hot. He thought about
nuzzling Catankerous, but the wicked gleam in their eyes made him reconsider.
He wished he could speak to them, let them know help was coming.
Maybe two dozen steps from the front doors of the school, the cat settled down
and quit struggling. Then, through the coat where he’d pressed it
against his chest, Peter felt the attack cat begin to purr.
About the Author
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.
Author’s Website
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Emily on Twitter
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