Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto)

Fan Fiction and Personal Ramblings


Consuming Me

Flash Fic, December 09, 2022

Photo by Oleg Zaicev on

“I’m afraid the storm is just getting worse, m’lord.  It’s best not to travel to the country right now and stay in London.”

Of course Zach knew his solicitor was right. The snow had begun in London that morning and instead of letting up, it snowed harder, the wind picked up to be a biting cold, and visibility was next to nothing. It would be far too dangerous to travel England’s country roads by carriage.

He’d briefly thought of taking his stallion and making his way to his country estate, but even he knew that was foolhardy. It just wasn’t going to be the Christmas he had planned for. Perhaps, weather permitting, he’d  get the chance to be reunited with Chris on Twelfth Night.  

“Yes, you are correct, of course. And speaking of, it’s time for you to go home to be with your family, Jenkins. I’ll see you after the new year.”

After that, Zach spent the rest of the day sending the rest of his servants on their way so that he’d have his London residence to himself, at least until the next afternoon.

“I’ve set out your dinner in the dining room, sir,” his housekeeper, Mrs. Anderson, advised. “And I’ll be back in the morning to prepare your breakfast.”

“No, no, don’t bother. I won’t be up for hours. I plan on sleeping in. No need to come tomorrow until about two. And if the storm is worse, don’t bother coming until the day after.”

“But m’lord—”

“Now, Mrs. Anderson, be on your way.” He pressed some extra coins in her hand. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And she was the last of those he dismissed. He was now quite alone in his London home and on the Eve of Christmas.

Zach ate his dinner of roasted goose, vegetables and a Christmas pudding.

Later he sat in his parlor, sipping some sherry and staring glumly into the roaring fireplace. He was feeling a bit sorry for himself to be sure. And it certainly it wasn’t the only Christmas he’d ever spent alone. And once the storm passed, he could travel to the country and eventually see his lover.

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke to the unmistakeable sound of a key in his front door.

Straigtening, he got up from his settee, left his parlor, and made it to the front entryway in time to find the door opening and Chris stepping into his home.


Snow covering his hair, Chris laughed, and closed and locked the door. “Happy Christmas.”

And as he went into Zach’s arms, he murmured, “It is now.”

*Kind of has a Cyndi Lauper’s I Drove All Night feel to it I think*

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

“J” or “Dreams” wanted a happy Consuming Me Pinto fic so this is it. She wanted something about a tree, but in their time period, Regency, there were not yet Christmas trees. Sorry!

Advent Day 12

 I stood back as Chris stepped down the stairs his coachman had set up for his carriage. He was dressed quite formally with a top hat and gloves, his cravat neatly tied at his throat, an elegant evening overcoat over his other clothing, more for show than warmth.

There was a December chill in the air to be sure but the coldest weather was yet to come. Not that Chris ever seemed to care about the weather.

“I shan’t let a little bit of inclement weather stop me from looking my best, Zach,” I recalled him saying, quite fondly. That is I was fond of him saying it.

He glanced in my direction and offered me a dazzling smile that caused my heart to flutter, my stomach to tingle, and my balls to tighten.

He was here, at last. And I was filled with a thrilling anticipation.

“All right, my good man,” Chris said to his coachman. “Be on your way before the weather turns temperamental. Should you decide to stay overnight in the village, tell them to look to me for the charges. And come back to fetch me in exactly one week.”

“Yes, my lord. And a Merry Christmas to you.”

“And to you and your family as well.” Chris handed the man a small bag of coins and the man beamed happily.

“Thank you, sir.”

Chris moved to stand beside me then, his face carefully not giving anything untoward away. We watched his carriage drive away down the long road off the estate together. When it was gone and out of sight, he put his hands on my arms.

He did not lean in to do anything else but the feel of his hands on me, even through his gloves was a thrill.

“Welcome and Merry Christmas.”

“And a very happy one to you, my friend,” Chris said with a teasing lilt. He looked toward my house. “Shall we? It is a trifle cold out here.”

I led him inside my country home, which would house only the two of us for the next week. I had already dismissed by staff to go and make jolly for their own holidays.

Chris set his bag down at the foot of the stairs that led to our bedroom, where we would stay for the next definite future, and I would happily reacquaint with him all night.

But just then I took his hand in mine and removed the gloves so I could feel his bare skin with mine.

“Zach,” he murmured, the light in his blue eyes enchanting me.

“I have quite a feast ready.”

“A feast?”

“Mm. A turkey roasted to perfection. And many accompaniments including roasted chestnuts and a Christmas pudding which I shall light aflame when we are ready to consume it,”

I dragged him off toward the formal dining room, making him laugh as I did so.

“I have yet to remove my overcoat, oh eager one.”

“Well do so then.”

Chris discarded his coat on the nearest piece of furniture as we entered the dining room.

He smiled wide when he saw all the greenery I had the servants lay out. Boughs of holly and ivy and mistletoe. Glittering candles. There was hardly any space that had been left bare.

“Oh and I have smoking bishop too,” I declared, pointing to the bowl of mulled wine.

“You’re positively glowing as though you were Father Christmas himself. I did notice the growth of beard, perhaps you intend to play the part.”

I laughed. “Perhaps I should. But before we have our feast there is yet one more thing before our true celebrations can begin.”

Chris gave me a quizzical look. “And what is that pray tell?”

I took him to the side board where lay, tied together with yet more greenery, holly, and yes, mistletoe, with dark mulberry colored ribbons.

His eyes widened. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. How could I ever forget you mentioning we ought to be handfasted? And though it may not make us legally wed, I believe under the eyes of God and this house, and each other, we are.”

I wrapped the greenery and ribbons around our wrists, entwining us together.

“In the joining of the hands and the fashioning of a knot, so are our lives now bound, one to another…” I tied a knot of the ribbons about us. “May this knot remain tied as long as our love shall last.”

“Forever then.”

I smiled and kissed him. He kissed me back, moving closer, his eyes closed, his lips pink like his flushed cheeks.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Taking our still linked hands and arms, I brought him to the table.

“Not only is it our Christmas but our wedding feast, too,” I whispered.

“You are a very romantic, merry gentleman, my dearest Zachary.”

And that night and every night after was magic.      

Flash Fic, November 30, 2020

The Thought of You is Consuming Me….

The Clothes they’d wear

It was easier for him to come to my estate. I stayed there alone during the off season save for a few servants who looked after me. My family, consisting of my mother and brother, preferred to stay in London full-time, only coming to the country estate rarely.

I knew that for my mother it held too many memories of the husband she had lost far too young, and for my brother, he wanted not only to look after her, but he liked to be closer to the action of London, even in times when the social set were absent.

I preferred the comfort and solitude the country afforded me, now more than ever, when I could have visits with Chris.

The middle of autumn was among my favorite times at my estate. The weather was crisp, clean and pure. Far away from the soot and smoke and dastardly fog of London. The leaves turned. The truly cold air made your lungs feel like you were indeed alive. And the nights by the fire, sipping port with my lover. Yes, I loved this time.

Chris would come and see me a few days at a time, and whatever he told his family, he never elaborated. It was our time together and we allowed no one else to intrude.

Chris was always provided a room of his own, though he never stayed in it. He always slept with me, even on the rare nights it didn’t become physical between us. I kept very loyal, well compensated servants at the estate who knew not to gossip or question our arrangements.

After my cook prepared our least meal for the day and the staff cleaned up, assuring themselves I needed no further care, they went off for the evening, to their homes in the village or on the estate itself, and left Chris and me to ourselves. They never returned before late morning, knowing neither of us were particularly early risers.

I suspected they were as loyal and efficient as they were because as serving positions went, my requirements were really quite low and easy, allowing them a lot of free time. When I was not there, they had even less to do, though I continued to pay them to care for my family’s home and lands.

One late November night, after they had departed, Chris and I lounged together on a sofa in the library, sipping port. He had positioned himself so that he was between my legs, his back against my chest, as he read some heavy tome he had chosen from said library. I pretended to read the London newspaper, but I was more interested in the port and watching him.

I loved the way his tongue poked out as he read a particular passage in the book. He was adorable. The whole thing struck me as rather domesticated, though I knew we could never truly be a couple accepted by our peers.

One day, perhaps not soon, we would not be allowed this amount of freedom. Yes, we would still meet. Still steal as much intimacy as we could. For the rest of our lives, as we had vowed. But these were times to be treasured. Before such demands of society changed this.

“Mmm?” Chris leaned back further to glance up at me, his head lying upon my chest as those blue eyes searched mine.


“You’re thinking quite loudly tonight, Zachary. What’s on your mind?”

“You,” I admitted. “Us.”

Chris smirked. “Do you wish for me to put the book away so we can retire to bed then?”

“No,” I murmured. “I have been enjoying this.”

He patted my hand that I had resting on his thigh. “Me too.” He took a sip of his port. “But let me know when you’re ready. You know how engrossed I can be.”

I did know and it was one of the many, many reasons I loved him.

I brushed my fingertips over his hair and then went back to my London news and that wonderful feeling of domesticity.     

And that is a wrap for November….on to my Spirk Hallmark Christmas Story.

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