Page 39 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

Aaron smirked. “We should’ve had this chat the day we met. Could’ve saved years of mutual aggravation and me accidentally falling in love with a psycho.”

“As you are fully aware, I’m not a psycho.”

“Didn’t say it was you, did I?”

Kenny looked as though he was rebooting. Aaron could almost hear the internal processing. He tried not to laugh but failed.

Kenny, as always, pulled him back. “Do you want the safeword to beGrinch?”

“Sure.” Aaron shrugged. “It’s festive.”

Kenny studied him for a long moment.

“What?” Aaron dragged a hand through his quiff. “Is it not good enough?”

“I’m waiting to see if you’re going to say it.”

Aaron tilted his head. “If I say it, what do you stop?”

“Whatever needs stopping.”

“But what if you don’t know what needs stopping?”

“Jesus. Right now, I wantthis conversationto stop.”

“Youstartedit.”

Kenny leaned across the console, gripped the back of Aaron’s neck, and kissed him. Not quick. Not innocent. Not obscene either, but deep enough to leave heat humming in his chest. With enough pressure to anchor him. Enough tongue to remind him exactly who he belonged to.

Kenny knewexactlywhat he was doing.

And Aaron felt the thrill down to his bones. The control. Howhe’dmade that happen.Letit happen. On his terms.

When Kenny pulled back, he didn’t go far. He stayed close, hand still warm at the nape of Aaron’s neck, forehead pressed to his. “Can we please confirm that if you sayGrinch, it means you’re uncomfortable and want me to back off?”

Aaron scoffed. “I never want you to back off. I’ve literally begged you to do the opposite. Full throttle. Hold me down, rearrange my insides, and ruin my life a little.”

“Good,” Kenny said, unfazed. “I will. When you’re ready.” He breathed the words more than spoke them. “But to get there safely, we need the word. So please, say it. For me.”

Aaron sighed. The weight of emotional responsibility physically exhausting. “Fine. Yes. Okay. If I sayGrinch, you stop. Whatever you’re doing. Doesn’t matter if you’re boiling a fucking egg or balls-deep in me.”

Kenny bit back a smile. “Deal.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. “But if I sayGrinch Grinch—and believe me, I will—you stopeverything. Immediate halt. You wrap me in a blanket, feed me gingerbread, bring me a JD or that really fucking nice wine you keep saving for someapocalypse or some shit, and put on something wholesome. No blood. No dead dogs. No existential dread.”

Kenny opened his mouth.

“And,” Aaron pointed at him, “you donotpsychoanalyse the plot. You don’t rip the character arcs to shreds. No ‘technically this character is experiencing maladaptive grief’ commentary halfway throughThe Grinch. You watch the damn thing. And cuddle me until I’m nothing but a content burrito.”

Kenny laughed, full and warm. “I’ll consider it a tiered system.”

Aaron nodded. “Good. You’re finally learning. Can I come up with other words for things I want?”

“No. It’s a stop word, not a wishlist.”

“Seriously flawed system.”

Aaron reached for the door again but paused. Looked back. Turned serious. Let his vulnerability show for once. “So, for clarity… cause you get off on that shit…you’re not gonna hurt me?”