FILLION

  A Daddy for Christmas

  A DADDY BOYS STORY

  SEAN MICHAEL

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Want more?

  About the Author

  Iron Eagle Gym Reading Order

  The Hammer Boys Reading Order

  The Box of Nails Reading Order

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Fillion

  Copyright 2023 by Sean Michael

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Sean Michael, 136-2446 Bank Street, Suite 658, Ottawa, Ontario, K1V 1A8

  Cover by Jo

  Printed in Canada

  ISBN: 978-1-77423-225-5

  First electronic edition December 2023

  Created with Vellum

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fillion

  Could the gift of a massage be exactly what Fillion needs to make this holiday his merriest ever?

  Fillion Berry is a profitable bookshop owner, but his personal life is less successful. His Daddy left him on New Year’s last year and he’s been floundering. When his friend Chrissy discovers how bad things are getting, he enlists the help of his Daddy, Jerusalem, and together they cook up a plan to bring some holiday joy into Fillion’s life.

  Spa owner Rome Aparny holds an auction every year to raise money for charity. When the highest bidder of a full-body massage gifts the item to Fillion with the note “for a lonely boy in need’, Rome thinks he knows exactly what that means and he arrives at Fillion’s store with his massage table, his oils, and the willingness to get to know Fillion better.

  Could a little holiday magic turn Christian and Jerusalem’s matchmaking into a success? Find out in this Daddy Boys story.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PROLOGUE

  “Daddy, are you home?” Chrissy had a problem, an itch in the center of his forehead, a problem.

  “Kitchen,” Jerusalem called out. His Daddy met him at the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a drying towel. “What’s wrong, boy?” Daddy always knew.

  “I need you. I have a secret…” And he hated it. He hated when his friends asked him not to tell his daddy.

  Jerusalem raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Come sit at the table and tell me your secret.”

  He nodded. “Yes, Daddy. Thank you, hmm?”

  “You’re always welcome, Christian.” Jerusalem pulled out a couple of chairs from the table and sat on one.

  He perched on the chair his Daddy had pulled out for him, trying to figure out how to tell Daddy what was going on.

  Jerusalem took his hand and squeezed. “Just tell me, boy.”

  “You remember Fillion? My friend from the bookstore? I went to see him today.” And the bookstore owner was… in crisis.

  “I do remember him. He comes to the get-togethers sometimes, right?” At his nod, Jerusalem went on. “So was there a problem when you went to see him?” He had his Daddy’s full attention.

  “He’s… he made me promise not to tell you, but… Daddy, he’s in crisis. He’s been drinking, not eating, and he’s talking about hurting himself. He’s so lonely.”

  “Oh, Christian.” Daddy pulled him into those strong arms so he was sitting on his Daddy’s lap, and then hugged him. “I’m glad you broke that promise. It sounds to me like he needs a daddy of his own.”

  “He had one, but… they broke up. It was ugly as hell-er-heck, I mean.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “I think a while? I never met him, the Daddy. I only knew about Fillion because he saw the books I bought. The other boys and I invited him to the gatherings after he lost his daddy so he wouldn’t be quite so alone.”

  “And he hasn’t been able to find anyone since and he’s hurting now, hmm? Then we should do something about it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s what I’m doing.” He didn’t know what to do, so he was doing… this.

  “Let me think a moment.” Jerusalem was quiet, rubbing his back, soothing him. “How about we arrange for a delivery to Fillion? A delivery that includes a daddy for him.”

  “Can we?” Because that would rock! “You are amazing!”

  “I don’t see why not. Rome holds auctions every December to raise money for charity. We’ll bid on a home massage with special oils or something. And when we pay, I’ll just mention that Fillion is an unhappy boy.”

  “He’s very handsome and smart, and he’s read everything. Literally. Everything.”

  “Are you trying to sell him to me?” Jerusalem teased. “Because I already have a boy I’m quite enamored of.”

  “No. You’re busy, Daddy. You have to keep me out of trouble.”

  “I know—it’s a full-time job!” Jerusalem grinned and bopped his nose, eyes twinkling.

  “I love you.” It had taken a while, but he’d learned, finally, to bring everything to his Daddy. That he would fix it.

  Jerusalem’s joking demeanor changed, becoming serious. “And I love you, Christian. Every inch.”

  He pressed closer to his Daddy, wrapping his arms around Jerusalem’s neck. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Rome grabbed his bag and locked up his office, heading off to make his final holiday auction delivery. He waved to Julianne at the front desk and made his way to his SUV. He had his portable massage table in the back and his essential oils in his bag.

  The online holiday auction had done really well this year and he had a tidy sum to give to the Youth LGBTQ+ Community Center and Home.

  He checked the address of one Fillion Berry and headed over. An old friend had won an at-home massage, but instead of claiming it for himself, he’d requested it for this Fillion. The note included with the e-transfer of the winning bid had said it was for “a lonely boy in need.” He had a hunch he knew exactly what that meant. Jerusalem knew he was single, and looking.

  It didn’t take long to arrive at his destination, and he found a parking spot without any problems. He hefted the table out of his car, bringing it with him up the front steps of a tiny independent bookstore with a closed sign. He rang the doorbell and waited.

  A somewhat familiar gamin little face peeked out the door. “Can I help you?”

  Oh, adorable. “I’m looking for Fillion Berry. Would you be him?”

  “I am.” Fillion tilted his head. “We’re closed. The bookstore, I mean. For the night.”

  “Then I’ve got good timing.” He nodded to the portable massage table leaning against his left side. “Congratulations! You’ve won a massage!” He handed over the spa’s business card. “I’m Rome Salter, owner of Treat Yourself, and I’ll be your masseur.”

  “But… I didn’t sign up for a contest…” Fillion turned over the card where Rome had written the name of the auction winner. “Jerusalem? Chrissy’s Da… lover?”

  Fillion had been right the first time, Jerusalem was Christian’s Daddy. “That’s right. He was the winning bidder for this item. And the massage has been gifted to you. You did say the bookstore was closed for the day so I’m assuming now is a good time. May I come in?”

  “I—do you mind if I make a phone call? Just to… I mean, I don’t know you…”

  Rome nodded, happy with this boy’s carefulness. “I’m more than happy to wait out here while you call your friend and confirm. Make sure to lock the door until you have.”

  “I—thanks. I’m sorry, it’s just… a little scary.” Fillion closed the door and picked up his phone, talking fast and hard.

  He wasn’t the least bit insulted by Fillion wanting to be safe, even if he did know the boy, having figured out why that sweet face was familiar to him. Of course, that didn’t mean that Fillion knew him. Rome had noticed the boy at a few of the Daddy gatherings he’d attended. Fillion—he was glad to put a name to the face—had been at the boys’ table and Rome had been attracted to him from the start. He hadn’t wanted to poach from another Daddy, though. Maybe he should have asked instead of assuming the boy was taken. At any rate, he’d stay out here and wait until Fillion was assured that Rome was on the up-and-up and was safe to let into his home.

  The door slowly opened, letting him into a quaint little bookstore. “Please come in. I’ll show you up to the garret.”

  “You live in a garret above a bookstore? How romantic.” It sounded like a fairy story.

  “I do. This is my store, and the garret’s rent-free.” They headed up to the second floor of the bookstore, then up to the third floor to a tiny little space with a futon, a wardrobe, and a view.

  There was enough room for him to set up his mobile massage table, though.

  “It’s lovely, boy. And it suits you.” As if Fillion was a book fairy.

  “I like it. It’s quiet. So… a massage? Really? This is what you do?” Fillion watched him, body drowning in pounds of oversized clothing.

  “I own a spa and I came to own it because I not only know massage, but I make essential oils and scented soaps. Things that ease and soothe and make you feel g ood, you know?” And this boy needed to feel good, he could read that clearly.

  “Oh, that’s cool. I’ve never had a massage before…”

  “I think you’ll enjoy it.” He set up the table and put the light blanket across it. “I’ll just look out the window while you get undressed and get underneath the blanket—on your front, please.”

  “Undressed? Really?” Fillion’s eyes were huge.

  This boy was absolutely adorable.

  “That’s how massages work. My hands and oils on your skin. You can put the blanket over your butt.” He’d still massage it, but he could do that without looking.

  “Oh… I—Okay? I guess.” Fillion stared at him until he turned his back, and then he heard the clothes coming off. “Do you do this a lot? Massage people you don’t know?”

  “Less now that the business is up and running well. But I used to massage people all day every day. It’s actually very therapeutic.” Touch was magical.

  “Well, Chrissy says it’s a gift from them, so…” The massage table creaked, and then he heard the blanket.

  “Yes. And good friends recognize when you need some pampering.” He turned around, went to his bag, and rummaged through his oils. He would start with sandalwood, which would help with anxiety, and when he had Fillion relaxed, he would finish up with lemon to lift his mood.

  The boy was totally covered, hiding his face in his arms. He gently pulled the cover back down to Fillion’s ass. He left that covered. Then he warmed the oil in his hands, the scent of the sandalwood filling the air. “Let me know if you’d like some music or if you’re happy with the quiet.”

  “I’m okay.” Nervous. In fact, Fillion was so tense he was shaking.

  This man needed a Daddy in the worst way, or his name wasn’t Rome. If nothing else, someone to just hold him. He shook his head at himself for not asking about Fillion the moment he’d noticed the boy. He’d felt the attraction, the pull. He’d been busy with the business, though, and had no idea if the feelings would be mutual, or even if Fillion was available. Still, it was clear to him now that he should have asked when he first noticed the boy, or at the very least when he’d first realized he was being pulled to him.

  Rome rubbed his hands together a bit more, just to make sure the oil was really warmed up, then said softly, “I’m starting now,” so he didn’t startle Fillion when he touched the man.

  Fillion’s muscles were like rock, so he kept his touches light, gentle, intending them to relax. He had a feeling he could spend literally hours doing this and only scratch the surface of what Fillion needed. Most massages lasted about an hour. He was going to see if he could stretch this to two. As long as his hands and Fillion’s muscles didn’t get too sore, it would work.

  Slowly—so slowly that it was glacial—Fillion began to ease, the tension softening.

  “That’s it, boy,” he said softly. “Let my touch ease you.”

  “What if I’m a Daddy?” Fillion muttered. “I could be.”

  Rome held back the soft laughter that wanted out at the idea that this lovely, grumpy boy might be a Daddy. He needed too badly to be anything but a boy. A Daddy knew.

  He settled on saying simply, “But you aren’t.”

  “No, but I’m nobody’s boy either. I’m just a bookstore owner.”

  “So you’re a boy without a Daddy,” he said softly. Which was sad, because clearly, Fillion was hurting because of it.

  “We broke up. He wanted to move to Toronto and be a part of something bigger. I love my bookstore and my friends.”

  “I’m so sorry. How long have you been on your own?” He kept massaging, working the muscles in Fillion’s back.

  “He told me New Year’s Day. It was his resolution. To make a new start.” Fillion sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jesus, that was both cold and cruel. And a year of not having anyone to care for him, to help him through the pain. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I have my books. It’s all I need.”

  “I don’t think either of us believe that.” Poor dear boy, Fillion was trying so hard. He needed a Daddy to take care of him.

  “No? You could pretend, huh?”

  Rome chuckled. “I think you’ll be better served if I don’t.”

  “You have a nice voice. Strong.”

  “Thank you.” He moved to work on Fillion’s legs rubbing the oil into the warm skin. The muscles here weren’t as tight as those in Fillion’s back and shoulders. That was where he carried his stress.

  Fillion hummed for him, and wiggled a little, the towel slipping. Oh, that was a sweet ass. He gradually worked his way up from Fillion’s calves to his thighs.

  “I… is this normal?” Fillion whispered.

  “The massage?” He suspected Fillion might be talking about something else, though. Would the boy have the courage to say so?

  “I—Sort of?”

  “This is regular massage. I spent more time on your back and shoulders because you were so tight there. But aside from that, this is what I do.” He slid his fingers up to Fillion’s ass, rubbing oil over it, then digging in. “What you’re feeling on the other hand… that’s a you-and-me thing.”

  “I don’t think I ought to be feeling things…”

  “No? Why not? You’re single. I’m single.” And Fillion needed a Daddy in his life. And there was chemistry between them—that much was clear. Jerusalem and Christian were sneaky—and smart—matchmakers.

  “We… we can’t talk about that. I’m naked!”

  “Doesn’t that make it better?” Finishing with Fillion’s ass, he left off massaging it with regret. Then he covered it back up. “You can turn around now and I’ll get the other side.”

  “I can’t!” Fillion sat up, those pretty eyes wide, his hands over the blanket in his lap.

  “Oh. Well, it does happen occasionally, and when it does, I’m very professional and ignore it. And I can do that if you’d like. Or we can acknowledge it and see where things go from there.” He very much wanted Fillion to go for option two, but he suspected the boy would choose option three and end the massage altogether.

  “I don’t think I want you to think I’m a slut.”

  He shook his head and cupped Fillion’s cheek in his hand. “I don’t. I won’t.”

  “I’m not, you know? I’m not bad.”

  Oh, this poor wounded boy.

  “Getting turned on by a massage does not make you bad or a slut. Wanting to act on that doesn’t make you bad or a slut. You are a good boy. Just a lonely one, you know? You’re going to lie down on your back for me and I’m going to finish your massage, because you need it. And then I’m going to hold you for a while, okay?” Fillion needed care and tenderness as much as he needed an orgasm. And the care needed to come first.

  “Please don’t be nice to me…”

  He was confused. “You’d prefer it if I was an asshole?”

  “No!” The tears did come then, and Fillion hopped off the table and headed for the door.

  “Stop right there, boy.” He went over to Fillion and wrapped the boy in his arms. “It’s okay, you can cry or scream or whatever you need to do. I’ll stay with you through it.”

  “I—I need to… I hate this.”

  “What do you hate, boy? Tell Daddy what the problem is.”

  “I don’t have a Daddy! I don’t have anything but the bookstore and a headache.” Fillion went heavy in his arms, and he knew—not a vague curiosity, but genuine knowledge—that this boy needed him.

  “I’m right here, boy,” he said softly, stroking his hand along Fillion’s back, looking to soothe.

  The oil made Fillion soft and a touch slick, and he continued to caress, encouraging the sweet boy to relax. He hummed a little, rocked a little, but didn’t try to stop Fillion from having his meltdown. He suspected Fillion needed a breakdown—with a Daddy to make it okay.

  “I’m so sorry. I just… I shouldn’t have told Chrissy about how sad I was.”

  “I’m glad you did. You shouldn’t have to be miserable and alone.” He kissed the top of Fillion’s head.

 

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