A LIttle Christmas: Sammy (Little Christmas Season 4)

Chapter 1

Samuel Owens was the best assistant Bryan Demarco had ever had.

Yes, he’s had more than a few. For a young man in his early twenties, who hadn’t finished college, he was incredibly diligent and hardworking.

Any doubts Bryan ever had about Samuel’s work ethic had been obliterated within the first three months of his employment.

Samuel takes care of everything from his appointments to his dry cleaning. The young man anticipates his needs, be it coffee or lunch, has his documents ready, and knows his schedule better than he does. He’d be lost without Samuel.

And it isn’t just his work life where Samuel is indispensable. Samuel spends more time talking to his family than he does!

So, whatever shenanigans Samuel gets up to in his personal life isn’t any of Bryan’s business. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t need to know, etc. The young man’s personal life has nothing to do with work.

Until it does.

Because somehow, Bryan is staring at the most obscene and indecent email he’s ever seen. He barely knows what the words mean, it’s all so crude and outrageous. It’s obviously sexual and not appropriate for the workplace. Not the sort of thing one sends to one’s boss, even if it is a mistake.

How could Samuel be so stupid? That’s his first thought. And his second.

Good god.

If Samuel hadn’t sent the email from a work computer to another work computer, then maybe there’d be something he could do, but he didn’t. This is a disaster. If there’s a way out of this mess that doesn’t end in him firing Samuel, he has no idea what it is.

There’s a frantic knock on his door. “Sir? Mr. Demarco?” Samuel calls.

He’s never heard the young man sound so panicked.

Before Bryan can answer, the door opens.

Samuel shoves his head in, eyes wide. His face is red, vivid blotches of shame all over his cheeks.

His light blue eyes are filled with tears. He blinks rapidly.

“You… you have a package in the lobby. You have to go sign for it right away,” Samuel says.

Bryan leans back in his chair, studying the young man. What a fucking disappointment this all is. What the hell is he supposed to tell his sister? She’s been wanting to invite Samuel home with them for Christmas.

“A package?” He repeats, voice expressionless.

“Yes, Sir.” He licks his lips. He’s practically panting, as if he ran to get here.

Which he wasn’t. His desk is six steps away from Bryan’s office.

The loud breathing is distracting, and for the first time in all of Bryan’s thirty-seven years of life, he imagines Samuel as a sexual being. A gay sexual being.

How dissimilar is Samuel’s wide-eyed expression, the panting and the fear, to what the man Samuel emailed will get to see behind closed doors?

Because it turns out his young assistant is a whore. And that isn’t Bryan being insulting. That’s how Samuel referred to himself!

His gaze flicks back to the screen. Ah, yes. Samuel also claims to be a ‘greedy cock whore bottom.’

Who writes that down? Who thinks such a thing? Heat washes up his neck and into his cheeks as the words rattle around his head, make his heart thump oddly. And the words produce images in his mind, making him think things that would never have occurred to him.

“They sign for packages at reception,” Bryan says flatly. He distantly notes how different his voice sounds compared to how he feels. This is the worst thing that’s happened to him in years. What the fuck is he going to do without Samuel? Inside, he is panicking. Devastated.

He’ll have to hire a new assistant. He’ll need to train them. He won’t see Samuel’s smiling face in the morning or when he leaves for the day.

Samuel’s mouth opens and closes. His eyes squeeze shut, and Bryan holds his breath, terrified the young man is going to cry, that tears will slip down his cheeks. “Yes… but this time they said--”

“Do not lie,” Bryan snaps.

Samuel drops his head in shame. His shoulders slump, and he steps fully into Bryan’s office.

One fucking email. His whole god damn life is going to be incredibly inconvenient for months because of a typo and a hasty click of a button.

“Sir,” Samuel whispers. He’s begging. Dejected, leaning against the wall to keep himself from falling down.

“Control yourself.”

A ragged breath. “I can’t. I’m sorry, what will I do? It was a mistake, please—”

Bryan shoves to his feet. He’s on autopilot as he walks to the door. He buttons his suit jacket, and Samuel takes two steps to the side so he can go past. Bryan opens the door and steps outside his office, walks towards the elevators to go down to reception.

Why is he doing this? There is no package. They both know it.

He finds himself in the lobby, asking at the front desk. The receptionist blinks at him with confusion. She looks around for a package and makes a note to ask the other receptionist when she comes back from lunch.

He goes back up to his office and finds the door ajar. Samuel isn’t at his desk. He isn’t in Bryan’s office. Bryan closes the door and sits back down. Nothing is out of place. The message from his inbox has been deleted. His mailbox trash is empty, too.

It doesn’t matter. He knows exactly what it said. It’s burned into his memory.

And he sent a copy to himself. Just in case. He doesn’t know the answer to ‘in case’ what? He’d just seen the email, read it through to himself once, taken a screenshot, and sent it to his phone.

Why he did such a foolish thing, he can’t imagine.

So the evidence of what Samuel did is almost gone. Except that a record of it will be on the servers. And Bryan knows it was sent. Samuel knows it was sent. Just because it’s deleted doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

An email comes through from Samuel saying he’s been “taken ill” and has had to go home for the day.

It’s 3 PM, and Bryan needs to leave for his last meeting in fifteen minutes, so it isn’t a problem, but it isn’t the real reason Samuel is going home early for the day.

The young man isn’t sick. It’s another lie.

More childishness.

His hands ache, and he realizes they’re clenched into fists, that crescent-shaped marks have been dug into his palms. He tries to relax his body.

Not just his hands but his jaw and his shoulders.

He takes a few deep breaths and lets them out slowly.

When was the last time he felt so angry? So disappointed?

Even, dare he think it, sad. He gets up from his desk and goes out to Samuel’s, looking at the picture he keeps framed there. Samuel, Bryan, and Bryan’s sister-in-law, Wendy, after the last company picnic. She gave it to Samuel for his birthday.

He looks like a boy in the picture. His hair is gold, a hint of copper in the right light.

His pale cheeks are flushed with happiness.

He looks like he barely needs to shave once a week.

His bright blue eyes blaze from the frame, and Bryan’s breath catches in his chest as he stares at Samuel.

It’s like he’s really seeing him for the first time.

I don’t know him, he thinks.

Which is disconcerting because he would say Samuel is one of the people he knows best in the world. Though that’s more a condemnation of his social life than actual closeness to his employee.

He goes back into his office and gathers his things, shuts down his computer, and feeds his fish since Samuel isn’t there to do it for him.

It is so difficult to train a new assistant. He’s become spoiled. Samuel was a once in a lifetime employee. His replacement won’t be as intuitive as Samuel. Samuel was responsive to his needs and anticipated them.

It was as if the young man spent every moment of his day thinking about ways to make Bryan’s day better.

As if nothing else was as important as pleasing Bryan and giving him everything he wanted.

Well.

Now he knows why Samuel was so devoted. The instinct that drove him. Because Samuel’s a gay, submissive boy who wants to have a Daddy he can be a good slut for.

And that was just the first paragraph! Who the hell is Ballbuster69, and why does Samuel want to spend a weekend with a man he’s never even met?

Has he no sense of self-preservation? Truly, the things Samuel stated in that email— things he likes, is willing to do, what he wants and ‘needs’ from his male lover are so shocking his mind instinctively shies away from it.

Who wants such things? Why?

There’s no hope for it. He has to fire Samuel.

‘You’ve done good work, Samuel, at best I can fire you in the morning,’ he mutters to himself, with zero amusement at the aptness of the Princess Bride reference.

It had been he and his brother’s favorite movie when they were kids.

Which Samuel knows, because the two discussed it at the family picnic last year.

Bryan pushes the personal catastrophe to the back of his mind and tries to focus on the upcoming meeting.

Work.

That’s the only thing that really matters.