Brooke and Taylor - Cassmas (Patreon)

In the run up to Christmas, here we go with a few Cassmas stories :)

This one was very enjoyable to write...

---------B&T Cassmas----------

The Mrs. Claus SNAFU

“Brooke? Are you going to come out of there or am I going to have to let the cats know that I’m going to be their only mother from now on? I think Dolly would have a real problem with that, I have to say.”

Taylor waited for a few beats in silence, more amused than concerned for now. If it was someone other than Brooke in the bathroom, who had then gone radio silent for several minutes, she might have been more concerned than amused. Savannah, for example. She’d have likely assumed Savannah had fallen and hit her head or something.

But given the situation that had befallen them, she figured she was probably correct to be feeling this excited anticipation more than anything else.

She tapped her knuckles on the door again, trying to temper her excitement.

And, as she still did every so often despite having moved into this house a few years ago, she got distracted momentarily as she marveled at the finish Brooke had chosen for the doors.

She could so clearly remember this house as it had been in her teenage years, when she’d found it. Rotting away, but she’d been able to see the beauty that it had once been. And she couldn’t think of a single thing she’d have done differently than Brooke did when she’d purchased it.

Shaking herself out of that train of thought before she could get caught up in it, she turned her full attention back to the locked door that her partner was currently still hidden behind.

“Brooke?” She pressed her ear against the door, starting to get slightly concerned now. Maybe something really was wrong? “If you don’t come out of there, I’m going to have to call for emergency backup. People are going to have to come from town and into our home, and then break down this perfect mahogany door. So, if you are okay in there, I would advise that you come out. At least this way it’s only me you’re going to debut your costume to…”

She trailed off, letting the ending part of the threat hang in the air between them. Because she knew Brooke so very well, and she knew how deeply Brooke would hate everything she’d said.

And truly, Taylor was buzzing with anticipation at seeing Brooke exit the bathroom she’d promptly turned and locked herself into minutes ago, upon receiving the package.

“Don’t you dare call anyone,” Brooke finally spoke, a commanding, heated ire laced through her voice. Taylor could clearly hear it through the door, even though Brooke didn’t speak very loudly.

“Now that I know you’re alive and well, I won’t,” she promised. “However, the event is in two days, and you’ll need to be wearing the costume in front of the town then.”

She could hear the somewhat strangled sound of Brooke’s disbelieving scoff. “Yeah – that is not going to happen.”

“You gave me your word,” Taylor countered easily, having already anticipated the need for this conversation at some point today or tomorrow. “Brooke B. Watson never goes back on her word.”

“There’s a first time for everything, as the saying goes.”

“Brooke!” She couldn’t properly summon exasperation through her surprised laughter.

She couldn’t help it; petulantly obstinate Brooke was one of her favorites.

“When I agreed to this ridiculous idea – only because you and your Vandenberg brethren that I unfortunately love begged me to – this wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It absolutely was,” she disagreed, drumming her fingertips against the door, growing more and more excited for Brooke’s exit from the bathroom as the seconds passed them by. “And I am so incredibly grateful.”

Because she’d spent a lot of time organizing this holiday event over the last few months. Working to make sure it was inclusive of every major holiday, advertising it not only in Faircombe but beyond, making sure the organizers of toy/food/clothing drive had been gathering wish lists from families in need since September.

Only for the couple that had signed on to play Santa and Mrs. Claus months ago to back out, after deciding to plan a last-minute holiday cruise instead.

Taylor wasn’t one that would disapprove of anyone following their travel bug, obviously. But, conversely, Taylor had never committed to plans and then left people in a lurch. So, no, she wasn’t feeling particularly holly-jolly toward Fred and Marcy Gardner this holiday season.

Ben had helpfully volunteered to play Santa, and had taken on the responsibility of ordering the costumes. He was excited for it, even, which had softened Fred and Marcy’s flaking on the event the tiniest bit.

Brooke had – unsurprisingly – not wanted to play the very public and involved role of Mrs. Claus, but had caved when Taylor countered that neither she nor Savannah could do it, given that Ben was their brother. Even though it was not real, the very idea of either of them playing Ben’s wife was clearly a non-started to all involved.

And thus, their current situation. The package with the costume Ben had bought at the last-minute had arrived at their doorstep earlier today, and Taylor had finally convinced Brooke to try it on.

Only for… this.

“Your brother has a lot of explaining to do,” Brooke stated in that same harsh tone.

Still chuckling, Taylor bit at her bottom lip, hoping that Brooke couldn’t hear how much joy this was bringing her. “Oh my god, it can’t be that embarrassing.”

Honestly, Taylor imagined that Brooke looked cute as hell in a Mrs. Claus outfit.

The only reason she didn’t have the camera on her phone pulled up and ready to go was because she knew how much Brooke would hate it. But she was hoping to grab a pic for posterity before Brooke took the outfit off.

It was so strange, though, because Brooke wasn’t usually so… vain?

She took – in Taylor’s humble opinion – exactly the perfect amount of time to get ready. She cared about her appearance in that she cared about being put-together, but she couldn’t remember the last time Brooke acted like this.

How old and frumpy could this outfit possibly make her look that made Brooke feel embarrassed?

The bathroom door whipped open so unexpectedly, Taylor almost went flailing down with it. She managed to catch herself on the doorway, slapping her hand to her racing heart as she nearly face-planted on the tile floor. “Jesus!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing?” Brooke echoed Taylor’s last comment. “Look at me. Look at me and tell me you could possibly guess what in the world was going on in Ben’s mind when he sent me this. Look at me, and tell me that I shouldn’t feel mortified about being seen like this in public,” Brooke demanded.

Taylor’s head was angled down from her almost-fall, and she went to do precisely what Brooke asked of her. To look at her.

She hadn’t anticipated to get caught up in checking Brooke out right away.

But… Brooke’s legs were bare. So, immediately, that caught Taylor’s attention.

Brooke truly had incredible legs. Shapely and smooth, and Taylor loved to run her fingertips up and down them when they were cuddled up together.

However, she hadn’t imagined that they would be on display for Christmas.

And they were. Like, almost fully.

She slowly ran her gaze up, up, up.

Calves, fully bare. Knees, uncovered.

Taylor slowly licked her lips, immediately reminded of the fact that she’d slept in this morning, and hadn’t gotten up until after Brooke had to leave. Morning sex was one of Taylor’s favorite pleasures, and she was well on her way to converting Brooke to a morning-sex lover, too.

She’d woken up reaching for Brooke, only to let her hand fall to the cool sheets, groaning in annoyance at herself for not having gotten up earlier.

And she continued to drag her eyes slowly – so, so slowly, wanting to savor this extremely unexpected moment – over Brooke’s thighs.

Her bare thighs. There was not a scrap of clothing on Brooke until the very tops of her thighs, about two tiny inches of red satin.

All she had on by way of clothing that was visible below those two inches of satin was the thinnest, sheerest red robe, lined with fake fur that waterfalled down behind her, down around her ankles.

Any and all amusement melted away, as Taylor continued on her journey.

Up over the skimpy material that hugged Brooke’s hips and waist.

And then she landed on Brooke’s chest, and she stopped. Time stood still.

Taylor could have sworn that whatever this material was made from was literally meant to showcase Brooke’s breasts. The material firmly cupped Brooke’s tits so that they looked like they were just about to spill over the top.

She only realized that she breathed out a quiet, undeniably needy sound after it was already released from her throat.

This wasn’t a dress, not in any traditional sense of the word. It was lingerie, straight up, and Taylor… she’d never been one for lingerie. Not really.

She didn’t dislike it, of course, but she didn’t necessarily love it, either. It really depended on the woman she was with. Whatever made her feel the sexiest and most confident version of herself was what worked best for Taylor.

Apparently, and unsurprisingly, when it came to Brooke, Taylor found herself leaning more into… anything made her seem sexy. That was a big aspect of choosing to be with someone, wasn’t it?

Finally, she dragged her eyes away from the smooth, plump spill of Brooke’s breasts, looking up into her eyes.

“You’re correct in saying that you won’t be wearing that out in public,” she confirmed.

Because something else she’d learned about herself by way of her relationship with Brooke was that she could be jealous. She’d never been a jealous person, before. Even though she’d had feelings for many women in her past, the reality was… she always knew they would have an end date. What was the point of feeling jealous, then? The women of her past were destined to be with more people after Taylor had left their lives, and she hoped they had very long, satisfying sex lives.

She didn’t feel that way when it came to Brooke.

There would be no one else, other than her.

She pushed Brooke against the wall, feeling her hot, rough exhale wash over her lips, and it made those sparks explode down her spine.

“But you’re dead wrong in saying that you should feel mortified to go out like this,” she breathed out, her voice rough.

She pulled back just enough to glance down at Brooke’s body once more.

The way Brooke’s breathing had grown more rapid had her breasts heaving, and her hard nipples were visible through the sheer material, and –

Taylor slid one of her hands into the thick waves of Brooke’s hair, tilting her head back as she brought their lips together.

She wanted to devour Brooke.

And it was because of so many things. One of which being –

Because the reason she’d been out late last night and thus missed her morning sex with Brooke, had been because she’d been at Savannah and Marisa’s late, at an impromptu get-together. In which her sister had invited Scarlet and Anna-Lynne – Savannah had enjoyed befriending the other sapphic women in town after getting into her relationship with Marisa – and they’d all gotten a little tipsy and talked about sex. And Scarlet had been very complimentary about Brooke, once she’d imbibed a bit too much and had loose lips.

And nothing she’d said – that Brooke was very dedicated, intent, and focused during sex – was untrue. Taylor very well knew this. It was far from uncomplimentary, as well.

Even though Scarlet was now married, even though Taylor knew it meant absolutely nothing, there was a part of her that wanted to physically reaffirm that Brooke was hers. All hers. Only hers.

And this need came from somewhere she hadn’t known, before. Something she hadn’t experienced, before.

But she’d returned home late – after Brooke was in bed – and more than a little tipsy, herself. Brooke had left the door unlocked, as well as a glass of water and some ibuprofen and a little note out on the table for her.

Because that was Brooke. Thoughtful. Grumpy on the outside, but the softest, sweetest center.

Especially when it came to Taylor.

She flexed the fist she had in Brooke’s luxurious hair, fucking loving that Brooke had taken it down when she’d gotten home from work, when she’d gone into the bathroom to try on this outfit. Using that hold to angle Brooke’s head back, sliding her tongue in against Brooke’s, tasting her.

And she felt a little lightheaded with the way Brooke’s hands came to land on Taylor’s hips, how she could feel the way they gripped her. Like Brooke felt how Taylor’s need for her had ratcheted from zero to one hundred, and she responded in kind, immediately.

That was another thing that played into the flames fueling her desire, ramping up her want even more. Even higher.

That Brooke really was so… steadfast, so level-headed.

And Taylor knew that the only thing – the only person – that could make Brooke lose her damn mind and get so caught up, was her.

Those needy, throaty sounds escaping from Brooke’s mouth? For her, and her alone. She knew, deep inside, that she was the only person that could ever make Brooke want like that.

She slotted her leg between Brooke’s, so easily. Because Brooke wasn’t wearing pants or a dress or a skirt to halt her movement, and – as Brooke always did, even when she was acting a little more stubborn or grumpy – her girlfriend’s legs spread for her, ready and willing.

She felt a little crazed, like she’d been taken over by a wanton, demanding need in a way she couldn’t possibly have predicted.

And who was she to even attempt to deny herself? Why would she?

They were in the privacy of their own home, Brooke was her partner in every sense of the word, matching her beat for beat, and she seemed to want this just as much as she did.

She felt herself shiver when Brooke’s hands scratched under her shirt, breaking their kiss so she could move her attention down to Brooke’s throat.

Brooke dropped her head back against the wall, her breathing heavy, as she rasped out, “I didn’t realize Mrs. Claus really did it for you. Should we – oh, god.”

Brooke cut herself off on a moan, as Taylor rocked her thigh up against her pussy.

And –

Taylor snapped her head up from where she’d started nipping small, teasing bites into Brooke’s pulse point. “Should we talk about the fact that you decided to wear this “costume” without underwear?”

She rocked into Brooke again, dragging her thigh against her, and cursed the fact that she was wearing pants.

How could she have possibly predicted that Brooke would be wearing this? She couldn’t have, but she was throbbing, already so wet, and more than her own arousal: she wanted desperately to be able to feel how wet Brooke was for her.

Because she knew she was, she could tell, but not on her.

“It’s not the Mrs. Claus part of it all,” she corrected, as she slid both of her hands down the silky smooth material of Brooke’s “dress.”

She took the briefest moment to indulge when she reached the hem, sliding her fingertips over Brooke’s heated skin. Both her thighs and the lingerie felt so, so soft, but in different ways, and she was a woman of taste, a woman who appreciated these key details.

Especially when she saw how stormy Brooke’s eyes got when she felt Taylor’s fingers on her bare skin.

She inched the thin fabric up, centimeter by centimeter. Enjoying every small reveal, sliding her touch up in gentle caresses because she reveled in the way Brooke shivered every time she moved.

“Upon a deep consideration, it’s not about the Christmas theme…” She licked her lips, dragging her gaze down…

Over Brooke’s damp, plump lips…

Down her throat – where Taylor could see a small mark from where she’d maybe bitten a little too roughly, and she’d hear about that later but she couldn’t give a fuck. She was in her late forties; if she couldn’t leave a small mark on the love of her life, what was the point of living?

Down over her clavicle, and landing right there, and she didn’t bother to swallow back her soft moan.

“It’s entirely about how fucking stacked you are,” she finished with a teasing, winning smile, snapping her eyes back up to Brooke’s. “Now, spread your legs for me, and let me give you an early Christmas gift?”

It was like she had some sort of magic key, like she’d said magic words to Brooke, who spread her legs just a little more, making it so easy for Taylor to slide one of her hands between her thigh and Brooke’s dripping center.

She wasted no time in taking what she wanted.

She slid her fingers up, stroking over Brooke’s entrance, teasing her, but not going inside. Even though she knew Brooke wanted it, because she could finally feel how wet she was against Taylor’s touch.

But because she wanted –

Brooke groaned, that long, low, drawn-out guttural sound as Taylor found her clit, and there it was. Her favorite sound.

She descended, taking advantage of precisely what had caught her attention in the first place. Well, the biggest aspect that had caught her attention.

Placing open-mouthed kisses on the ultra-soft skin of Brooke’s chest, she found herself moaning again. Truly, she could die here. Buried in Brooke’s breasts. There was nothing wrong with that, not at all.

“Taylor,” Brooke grit out, rolling her hips down against her hand. “I – just – touch me.”

“I am touching you,” she responded, her words muffled because she refused to lift her head from where she was currently enjoying her life.

And she was.

Not only was she sucking on the skin right between Brooke’s breasts, but she was still moving her fingers… albeit slowly. Circling around Brooke’s throbbing clit, feeling the desperation growing in the way Brooke was pressing down against her.

She could feel Brooke’s hands scratch up her back, under her shirt, digging into her, urging her on.

“I want more,” Brooke half-demanded, half-pleaded. Stuck in that place between who she was, inherently, and the way she was when devolved with wanton need.

How Taylor loved this place.

She slid her fingers down, rubbing at her entrance but not slipping inside yet. Very careful not to, even though Brooke was rolling her hips down, and so slick she was coating Taylor’s hand.

“More?” She asked, bringing her free hand up to tug down the lingerie.

Just a few inches, to reveal Brooke’s hard nipples to her. Already pulled so tight, they pebbled even more exposed in the evening air, exposed to Taylor’s hungry gaze.

“Yes,” Brooke hissed out. “I don’t care if it’s a Mrs. Claus kink or–”

Brooke cut herself off as Taylor slid two fingers inside of her, all the way down to the knuckle. Feeling her walls gripping so tightly, clenching around her.

Taylor, frankly, didn’t care if it was, either.

Well, it wasn’t but even if it was – whatever. All that mattered was this, was Brooke, right here, right now.

She wrapped her lips around Brooke’s nipple, sucking hard in the way Brooke always responded to so ardently.

Brooke’s nails dug into her back, bitingly sharp, filling Taylor with a bone-deep satisfaction.

A satisfaction she chased more of, as she took Brooke’s nipple between her teeth, tugging it, as she thrust into her again, curling her fingers to find the spot that had Brooke lifting onto her tip toes, swearing.

With the way she was fucking Brooke, keeping her pressed against the wall, her mouth ravenous on her tits, she could feel every fucking second that Brooke hurtled closer and closer to orgasm.

The way she pushed herself against Taylor, the arch of her back. The way she started to grind her hips down, tighter and tighter, wanting to get more traction against her clit. The way she needed to come.

Taylor was already dripping, herself, without really being touched in any way, and was half-crazed with the need for Brooke to come. Just as much as Brooke was.

She slid out of her, and moved to focus directly on her clit. Stroking her in firm, quick movements, exactly the way Brooke liked, all the while keeping her mouth working over her breasts.

“Oh my g–” Brooke broke off on a curse, as she came, writhing against Taylor.

Watching Brooke B. Watson in orgasm was just about the only thing that could steal Taylor’s hyperfixation from her chest at this moment.

There was something so beautiful, so sexy, so fucking arousing about watching Brooke have to submit to the pleasure wracking through her body. Watching how Brooke gave herself over to it and, de facto, over to her.

In a way that Taylor knew – she just knew – that Brooke had never done with anyone else she’d ever been with.

And that made it all the more powerful, headier.

“That’s perfect,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on Brooke’s face as she started to come down from her orgasm. “God, I love seeing you like this for me.”

At her words, Brooke’s eyes fluttered open, the post-orgasm flush on her cheeks. Without waiting for one of Brooke’s undoubtedly, stubbornly funny one-liners about her Christmas-kink – which, in fairness, she was looking forward to later – she slid her hand out from between Brooke’s legs.

And brought her hand up, rubbing her fingertips over Brooke’s bottom lip, loving the feeling of her harsh breathing washing over Taylor’s fingers. Holding contact with her shuddered eyes as she painted her mouth with her own wetness.

Before she dove in, swiping her tongue over that perfectly full lip, letting the taste of Brooke melt into their kiss.

“Get on your knees,” she murmured as she broke their kiss, her heart pounding in her chest, already shuddering with the anticipation.

She grasped Brooke by the waist and spun them, so she was firmly being held up now.

Taylor already knew she was going to need it, and she was so ready.

“Something has you bossy tonight,” Brooke commented, arching her a look, but had no issue complying, as she did, indeed, fall to her knees, between Taylor’s spread legs.

“You,” she answered, simply, reaching down and carding her hands into Brooke’s hair again.

She didn’t always feel this way. She didn’t always feel the need to be in control – in fact, sometimes she liked just the opposite. She was a multi-faceted woman.

But there really was something intoxicating about it being Brooke. In ways Taylor hadn’t ever delved into until they’d been situated in their relationship, until she took stock of the ways this was different than anything she’d ever had with other women.

She’d slept with powerful women, women who liked to be in control. But them submitting to her didn’t really do anything special for Taylor.

Brooke doing it? Brooke getting on her knees at the mere, breathy suggestion? Brooke doing things like letting Taylor tie her up? Brooke trying anything Taylor brought up with very minimal questioning – very typical Brooke inquiries, but never any doubt about fucking Taylor in whatever way she thought of.

That was such a fucking rush.

And maybe it was because Taylor, subconsciously, hadn’t opened herself up to anyone else like this, either. She didn’t withhold intimacy from anyone deliberately, but the more she was learning about herself into her middle-aged years, the more she discovered. Life was amazing that way.

Her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Brooke between her legs, feeling just that. That rush of Brooke Watson, wearing the sexiest red lingerie, kneeling at her feet, ready to pleasure her. Wanting to.

And she held that contact, as Brooke reached up and undid her jeans and underwear, quickly and efficiently tugging them down her legs, until Taylor stepped out of them.

“Just me?” Brooke asked, her voice low, as she leaned in and kissed Taylor’s inner-thigh.

Fuck, she was already dripping, and she knew Brooke could see it, and she fucking loved it.

“So, if I walked out of the bathroom wearing the outfit we both expected I was getting… we’d be in the same position?” She asked, her voice vibrating against Taylor’s leg, as she slid her mouth up, and up, and…

“Let’s talk about that later, sweetheart,” she breathed out, using her hold in Brooke’s hair to direct her to where Taylor was throbbing for her.

Taylor had experienced many lovers throughout her life. She’d been with women that fell on every area of the sexual spectrum. Women who didn’t like to reciprocate touching. Women who only liked to do the touching. Inexperienced women, women who struggled to take direction, women who moved too slowly – yes, there was such a thing – women who moved far too quickly.

She’d had some incredible, thoughtful, experienced lovers in her time.

But there was no woman that compared to the way Brooke made her feel. And yes, she was sure that had something to do with this emotional connection, something she’d never shared with this kind of depth with anyone in her life.

No matter her amorous feelings for any woman, she’d never felt so aligned. So understood. So… safe.

Because when she locked eyes with Brooke as she stared up at her from between Taylor’s legs, not only did her clit twitch, but she felt this instant, gratifying tug in her chest. It all tangled together, making her feel crazy with this wanting.

Beyond the emotional, though – the thing was: Brooke Watson was methodical.

Her approach to everything was incredibly principled and determined.

And that extended to the way she touched Taylor.

That slow glide of every lick once she found the perfect spot, the one that made Taylor’s thigh jump. Paying keen attention to every reaction. When she trembled, Brooke returned to the same place and continued to lave her tongue over it until Taylor thought she was going to go fucking insane.

She threw her head back, only to groan and force herself to look back up.

It was so hard to keep her eyes open, but she was already so close to falling over the edge, and she wanted to see Brooke. She wanted to see the surprise lingerie.

Looking straight down, her view was –

Jesus fucking christ, it was a mistake to stare at Brooke like this. Because she could see everything. She could see the strong, smooth slope of her shoulders.

She could see her chest, practically spilling over the lacy neckline.

She braced herself, keeping one hand on the doorway to make sure she was steady, before placing the other hand on Brooke’s head. Feeling every minute movement as she felt every single slide of Brooke’s tongue.

She was going to come.

Her knees were quaking, and she couldn’t properly catch her breath, and it was building, and –

“Coming. I’m coming, Brooke, I–”

She couldn’t keep talking, not in real words, anyway, as the pleasure washed over her in waves.

God. Fuck.

She worked herself against Brooke’s mouth, wanting to wring out every ounce of pleasure against her tongue.

And she did her favorite thing when she came. Watching through narrow little slits as she moaned, as Brooke licked her through her orgasm. Brooke was looking up at her, too, which was her favorite thing, and – she pulsed again, another, smaller, cresting wave of her orgasm pried out of her at that.

At the fact that Brooke was keeping her eyes on Taylor now because she knew how much Taylor loved it.

When it was over, when she was fully spent, she sagged completely against the wall, the hold she had in Brooke’s hair gentling. Stroking, instead of holding.

Brooke reacted in kind, slowly leaning away from Taylor, looking up at her.

Her hair was a mess from Taylor’s hairs, her lips and chin were dripping, and she was wearing that red lingerie…

Despite just coming so hard she was still clenching from it, she couldn’t deny a renewed hunger already starting in the pit of her stomach. They should probably just plan to order in for dinner, she errantly decided.

“You really must have been worked up, if I was the one with the last teasing comment during sex,” Brooke said, as she stood up, the cutest, cheekiest little smile on her lips.

Taylor reached out with tired hands, tugging Brooke right against her. Utilizing this study wall behind them to hold them both up.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she murmured, conspiratorially, a small smile quirking at her lips. “I’ll lose my membership card.”

“Well, between the two of us, I’m not the one who’s going to tell anyone about our sex life, am I?” Brooke challenged, not inaccurately. Not upset, either, but matter-of-fact.

“Mm, good point.” She waited a moment, before adding, “I doubt I would have reacted the same if you came out wearing the little-old-lady costume we were both anticipating Ben ordered for you. Re: possible Christmas kink.”

She couldn’t promise, but she was fairly certain.

Her eyes danced down to Brooke’s chest, consideringly. “Then again, it really depends on the cut of the top, I suppose.”

***

“We need to talk about your possible latent feelings for Brooke,” Taylor stated to her brother, two days later.

She sidled up to him at the kitchen counter where he was stirring the chili he was preparing, having arrived early for Sunday dinner.

He shot her a baffled stare. “My… what?”

She managed to hold back any possible laughter, keeping her face very serious. “Have you tried on your Santa costume, by chance?”

Because if Ben had ordered them as a set, he should know exactly what she was talking about. Which had to mean he hadn’t tried it on yet.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, before blowing out a breath, shaking his head.

“No, I took Jo to that orchestra Christmas concert Friday night, remember? We didn’t get home until late,” he explained, arching an eyebrow at her as he turned away from the stove and leaned back against the counter. “And, honestly, it totally slipped my mind last night. Why?”

“I really think you should take a peek at it.”

He held his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, give me a minute.”

She gestured for him to walk by her and leave the room, which he did – only pausing to call out, “And don’t touch my chili while I’m gone!”

“No promises!” She shouted back, already turning to reach for the spice rack.

After she added to her heart’s content, she turned to face the doorway, folding her arms over her chest as the anticipation built, awaiting Ben’s return.

Which happened within a minute, his face bright red, and she cackled from it as soon as she saw him.

“I did not mean to order that!” He was shaking his head, already reaching to pull his phone out from his back pocket. “I didn’t – I’ll show you what I ordered. Er, what I thought I ordered? There was a mistake made somewhere along the way.”

“So, you aren’t harboring sexual feelings for Brooke?” She pressed, making herself sober into a Serious Expression.

He pulled a face at her.

She waved the spatula she’d used to stir the chili back at him, affronted. “Okay, don’t make that face at me like you’re grossed out, because you’re swinging too far in the other direction. Don’t be insulting to the love of my life.”

“I’m not being insulting to Brooke!” Ben threw his hands in the air, obviously exasperated. “She’s – I – she’s a beautiful person, but I don’t… I’ve never – come on.”

She laughed at his flustered defense, unable to stop herself at all anymore. “What the hell were you thinking? Where did you order those from?”

“I did research! There was a link on this forum where people were comparing the best Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes, and the ones that were the highest rated…” He trailed off, quickly reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone.

Within seconds, he had pulled up a website, and then frowned, progressively deeper as the seconds ticked by.

“Oh, no. Aw, jeez.” He started, shaking his head as his cheeks turned beet red again. He looked up at her, then held his phone up so she could see. “I thought it was for the top picture!”

On the comparison thread he’d found, the top picture in the comment was, indeed, costumes that went all out in appropriate Christmas costumes.

… the picture below – linked to Worthy – was for the tastefully risqué ensembles from the bottom picture.

“I just put in our sizes, I didn’t really think anything more than that. It – I did it at, like, two in the morning, and I – oh, no. Are we going to have time to get more costumes for the festival?”

And there was the logical Ben, the one that was so aligned with Brooke.

“Nope. You’re going to have to wear whatever it is that you received out in public. Sorry, brother, but a deal is a deal,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ll order new costumes and get them expedited.”

“Funny if you think Brooke – you know, Brooke Watson? You met her? – is going to give you that responsibility again,” she scoffed back, genuinely unable to hold back her enjoyment. “She already ordered the appropriate outfits, herself.”

She’d done so hours later, after Taylor had eventually peeled her out of her lingerie, while they’d been laying in bed together.

Ben brought his hand up, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you bring me Brooke’s package so I can return them?”

“Ah, no, sorry.”

“Th – what? Why?”

“No can do, Ben. My sincerest apologies. It’s already been…” She thought about their Friday evening, the curl of desire still sparking to life even in her memories. “Used.”

He groaned, waving his hand in the air. “Ugh, stop. You and Brooke being together, being in love, is great, but the last thing I ever want to know is about your sex life. That’s been a firm line in the sand for… forever.”

“You asked,” she defended, chuckling.

“I didn’t, actually,” he retorted.

“You asked why you couldn’t have the outfit back. And even though Brooke can’t exactly wear that outfit for public consumption, she absolutely can wear it for mine.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, louder this time, pulling a deep frown.

She continued to laugh, perpetually amused by Ben’s rather… puritanical views on discussing sex. As a physician, he did so very clinically, but it was a basic human function, and these responses always amused the hell out of her.

“But in deference to Brooke, I’ll stop,” she gave in.

Because Brooke also didn’t like the idea of sharing details about her sex life with most people. Ben was her best friend, but – as Taylor had learned through her relationship with Brooke – Ben and Brooke had somewhat of a shorthand when it came to discussing sex. Like, vaguely checking in about it, checking in to make sure that everything was safe and consensual, and other than that… very little. Only rarely would they ever discuss anything in a little bit of detail.

“Oh family, I’ve arrived. And I brought those new sheets to set up the bed for mom and dad, for when they fly in tomorrow,” Savannah called out, as she walked through the house into the kitchen.

She came to a stop in the doorway, taking in Taylor and Ben.

“Okay, so, I’ve obviously arrived in the middle of something. What’s going on?” She glanced between them, curiously.

“Ben’s homophobic,” Taylor barely managed to maintain a serious expression at her own delivery.

“Oh my god,” Ben ground out, shaking his head.

Savannah clucked her tongue at their brother in mock-disappointment, frowning at him. “Benjamin, both of your sisters are in same-sex relationships. That’s absolutely horrible of you.”

“Deplorable,” Taylor joined in.

“I usually don’t ever wish I had brothers, but at the tender age of my forties, I’m reconsidering.”

Pushing him with her shoulder, Taylor refocused on Savannah, who was setting out the dessert she’d brought on the table. “Speaking of our same-sex relationships – where are our better halves? And my nephew for that matter?”

“They got caught up talking the enthralling subject of the town budget on the way over,” Savannah said as she rolled her eyes, but there was such a sweet, affectionate smile on her face. “And Henry chose to walk with his favorite person.”

The affinity that Henry, at age three, held for Brooke was one of Taylor’s favorite things. She thought it had something to do with her fairly calm, quiet demeanor.

As if on cue, the front door opened again, and the sounds of Brooke and Marisa’s conversation added to the sounds in the house, as well as the sounds of Jayson and Henry coming in and kicking their shoes off.

When they appeared in the doorway, Brooke’s gaze automatically went to Taylor first. And there was that little smile that slid onto her lips, in a way that she never used to have. But it was something Brooke wore when they locked eyes, now, like… she was lighter.

Taylor loved it.

“Hello, Vandenberg-umbrella,” she greeted to everyone, curling her finger to gesture for Brooke to approach her.

Which she did, and Taylor leaned in to mock-whisper, “Ben is going to consider the costume his early Christmas gift to us.”

The color rose in Brooke’s cheeks as well, as she shot Ben a glance, and then turned back to Taylor, shaking her head.

“Sorry – your… costume? Did you say your costume?” Marisa asked, tilting her head at them in question.

And something Taylor loved about Marisa was her willingness to jump into the conversation and ask questions like that.

She also loved the way Marisa looked at her sister, so she had a lot going for her in Taylor’s esteem.

Both Ben and Brooke groaned.

And Taylor simply found herself grinning, looking around.

With Christmas creeping up on them, managing the operations and SNAFUs of Faircombe’s holiday festival in conjunction with Brooke, and being in this kitchen with her whole, expanding family…

Throw in Brooke’s new outfit, and Taylor didn’t think she’d ever had a better Christmas season in her life.

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