Page 60 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

Kenny exhaled, Aaron’s pliancy piercing him like a blade sheathed in silk.

“Morning,” he whispered into Aaron’s hair.

Aaron mumbled something unintelligible and curled deeper. Kenny held him, cradling the back of his neck with one hand while circling his thigh with the other.

Eventually, Aaron blinked himself into the room. “You been up long?”

“Since five.”

He looked down at the desk. At the files. Thephotos. And traced one finger along the edge of the top page. Luke’s name. Luke’s life.

“Fuck,” Aaron whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Are those the others?” He nodded towards the images.

“You sure you want to see this?”

“Not my first rodeo.”

“I know. But you can choose your last.”

“You’re looking, I’m looking.” Aaron lifted his head. “I’m basically your sidekick, anyway. Though, I’m way more main character energy.”

“Which leaves me as…?”

“The love interest.”

“I can deal with that.”

So they went through it. Together.

Kenny talked him through the other victims. Showed him Luke’s timeline. His route from Newport Square to the green in Ventnor. The markings. The lack of struggle. The sweet. Aaron studied the photo longer than Kenny expected.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “They’re not being killed because they’re weak. Like, even though they all sound as if they’re vulnerable—care kids, runaways—they’re usually the feisty ones. Survivors.”

Kenny lifted a brow. “Spoken like someone who’d know.”

“You know I’ve got deadly prickles.”

“And they slot right into me.” Kenny dipped closer, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Aaron’s neck. He felt the subtle give, the way Aaron’s shoulders eased, his breath snagging as if he might let himself fall.

But of course, Aaron fought it. He tangled his fingers into Kenny’s hair, not quite pulling him away, not quite keeping him close either. Then he tipped his head back, baring histhroat in mock-offer, words wrapped in barbed wire when he said, “Say something mean to me.”

Kenny leaned back. “Mean?”

“Yeah. All this soft talk’s making me twitchy. I can’t have a full trauma spiral and do my hair in the same day. One thing at a time. Bite me back into myself.”

Kenny hummed, playing along. “I could chastise you for leaving your clothes all over the bedroom, if that’s what you need.”

Aaron’s mouth curved sharp. “Yes. Please. Call me a chaotic little fuck again. That was deeply satisfying.”

“Youarea chaotic little fuck. One of your socks ended up inside the toaster. Also, maybe retire the pole striptease routine that I have to clear up after?”

“Don’t kink-shame me.”

Kenny huffed a soft laugh and kissed the edge of his jaw. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”