A Perfect Christmas Night
Jeremy gets a chance to live out one of his longest-standing fantasies when Elijah agrees to… well, be Santa for him.
2.5k, cis M / cis M erotic short. Please note there’s some self-kink-teasing but no kink-shaming. Involves rooftop sex, Santa roleplay, and potential dubcon.
…❄ ho ho ho ❄
He hadn’t been at all sure that Elijah would go for it when he’d first asked. And even now, after getting a ‘yes’ — well, more of a taken-aback but indulgently and very lovingly amused, “…What, really? Yeah, alright sure. If that’s what you want.” — Jeremy still couldn’t quite believe it was really happening.
It was utterly ridiculous. He knew full well it was. But, well… when did kinks and fantasies ever make that much sense anyway, when you really got down to it? Anyway, it wasn’t his fault the mall-Santa had been really freaking hot in his formative years.
Tonight was even the quintessential Christmas Eve. The kind of perfect Christmas night you only got on rare occasions and then spent years in between hoping for again. Below zero but not bitterly cold; a soft, sparkling blanket covering the ground and more still falling lightly but steadily, dusting the whole world in fresh, white, fluffy snow.
Jeremy slipped out the front door a little before midnight. Shutting it on the warm, lit house behind him he crunched his way around the side and into the quiet, dark backyard. He shivered — from excitement rather than cold; he was well-bundled up — and hauled the ladder out and up to the balcony as quietly as he could. Elijah knew exactly what he was doing, of course. But half the fun was in pretending Jeremy had snuck out and left him snoozing in the living room.
A quick, careful climb later, his breath fogging the air, Jeremy was on the roof and making his way around to the chimney. Anticipation thrilled through him, his groin tightening and cock hanging a little thickened and heavy between his legs. He was, naturally, not wearing any underwear, only his warmest sweatpants over top of long johns… and he was incredibly aware of the warm, slippery lube on his skin from his well-slicked ass.
Jeremy crouched down to wait. Sitting on his heels with his back against the brick of the chimney, he gazed up at the cloudy nighttime sky for a long, peaceful moment before closing his eyes against the snowflakes drifting down to tickle his eyelashes under the brim of his tuque. And… to his own surprise, despite the eager anticipation swirling in his belly, despite the semi he was pitching in his sweats and the fact that he was on the roof, in the snow, at midnight — Jeremy actually dozed off right there.
Only briefly. But he fell asleep enough that he re-awoke with a jolt, startling at the sound of…
Boots.
Jeremy grinned, licking his lips and easing back up to his feet. He could hear the faintest jingle along with every footfall as those boots climbed the back stairs to the balcony — the bell was a real nice touch; he’d have to thank Elijah for thinking of that, afterwards — and the ladder, still leaning up against the wall where he’d left it, shook with a brief clatter as someone started climbing it.
Heart pounding, his already cold-reddened cheeks flushing bright and hot from a heady mixture of excitement, embarrassment, and arousal, Jeremy turned around and leaned over the chimney. He peered down into the darkness, as though looking for something down there… And as those booted footsteps started towards him — soft, but given away by the crunch of fresh snow — Jeremy pretended not to hear them.
Instead, he kept looking down the chimney, bent over, shifting a little this way and that with little wiggles of his ass in the air — and as those boots drew near and stopped again, he called out into the chimney in a hopeful, quiet whisper.
“Santa? Are you down there?”
A hearty chuckle from behind him really did make him startle again — and he simultaneously nearly burst out laughing while also nearly losing his balance from knees gone suddenly wobbly with the thrill of that honest-to-god ho ho ho.
Swallowing hard against the breathless ‘eep’ that felt like something halfway between a laugh and a shivery gasp of delight, Jeremy froze in place, not turning to look.
“Santa?” he said again. “Is that… really you?”
“Careful,” came an amused, rich voice from behind him — damn, Elijah was really getting into the role, more than Jeremy had expected. He was selling it — “you’ll get stuck, poking your head in there like that.”
“I…” Jeremy started, pausing. He was already starting to breathe hard, head spinning a little and his erection now at full mast; he didn’t need to look down to know he was pitching an obscenely blatant tent in his pants below the hem of his winter jacket. “I think I am, actually… stuck.”
He gave a helpless little wiggle in place — fully aware he obviously wasn’t stuck in the slightest — and earned another jolly fucking chuckle for his efforts. There was something decidedly promising and warm lacing that laugh, this time, and Jeremy’s breath hitched at the sound, cock twitching eagerly in his pants.
Another few crunches of boots in the snow… and then a warm body was right behind him and a warm, gloved hand caressed his upturned butt cheek.
“Well isn’t that a shame,” came the thoughtful, still quietly amused rumble — and Jeremy trembled on his feet, legs quivering as that hand eased the waistbands of his sweats and long johns down in one smooth push.
A gasp slipped from his lips from the sudden, exhilarating shock of cold air on his warm skin — as well as from the sensation of body-warmed leather gloves briefly gripping and spreading his exposed cheeks before releasing him again. He gripped the edge of the chimney in his own gloved hands — not leather; he didn’t know when the hell Elijah had gotten actual leather gloves for this, but he loved it — and arched his back, practically panting with excitement at the muted metallic jangles of a belt being unbuckled, followed by the unmistakable rasp of a zipper being lowered and then the soft rustles of clothing.
And of course, along with all that, the continual quiet tinkling of that tiny bell, each soft jingle sending a fresh zing of want and need down Jeremy’s spine.
Maybe it was one of those Santa hats with a little bell on the pompom, he thought with a crooked grin. That was a perfect idea.
A few seconds later, though, he wasn’t thinking at all anymore, because there was one gloved hand on his ass again, holding him open — and something blunt and hot and hard pressed to his ready hole and dragged a shocked moan from his throat.
He shuddered, toes curling in his boots, and dropped a hand down to squeeze himself through the tented front of his sweats as he was slowly, inexorably breached by that perfect, stiff cock, its owner groaning softly in pleasure along with him. That hard heat sank deeper and deeper, until hips pressed against his bare ass and stilled — hips, and a cold belt buckle along with a strip of something fuzzy. Jeremy had to forcibly restrain himself from twisting around to look and see… but from the feel of it, and the glimpses of black boots and red pants he could see down by his own winter-booted feet, Elijah had actually put on a full goddamn Santa suit for him.
Instead of turning to look — because of course, you’re never supposed to look at Santa Claus — Jeremy moaned again, bouncing impatiently in place to signal he was more than ready for more.
And with another one of those way-too-spot-on ho ho ho chuckles… his ‘Santa’ started moving.
He stayed deep, hips rolling and those gloved hands gripping Jeremy’s hips tight, his belt and that bell alike clinking and jingling with every movement. Jeremy groaned again, mouth hanging open in a panting smile. He only barely remembered he needed to actually keep his voice down up there as he was jolted back and forth in place, his winter boots firmly planted on the snowy rooftop, one hand holding onto the chimney and the fingers of the other gripping his aching cock through his clothes.
He was… he was actually going to get off like this, and fast, he realized with yet another thrill, a sharp lurch of excited arousal that pulled his balls in high and tight. He was going to come, on Santa’s cock, bent over the goddamn chimney on Christmas night. It was just like he’d always fantasized — only about a million times better in reality.
Ignoring the renewed shock of cold on his heated flesh, Jeremy finally shoved the front of his pants down to match the back, waistband stretched across his thighs, and wrapped his winter-gloved hand around his throbbing cock. Santa fucked into him faster, heavy breathing punctuated by soft grunts of effort that grew increasingly ragged on every thrust — the fingers on Jeremy’s hips tightened —
And with a barely-stifled cry, Jeremy sailed straight over the edge in a vision-sparkling explosion of bliss, his hips jerking and bucking, cock spurting glistening streaks down the side of the brick chimney and into the scuffed-up rooftop snow between his boots. He couldn’t stop gasping and shaking, his own misting breaths rising around him while he clenched spastically around the stiff heat still sliding in and out of him in increasingly quick, urgent thrusts.
“Oh, good boy,” came the breathless, raw voice from behind him, and Jeremy moaned, quivering on his feet from the aftershocks ricocheting through him, still bracing himself one-handed and panting heavily while waited eagerly for the rest.
He had the presence of mind, barely, to coax the last few drips of come from his cock with a couple more slow, squeezing strokes of his hand before tucking himself away into the warmth of his clothes again. He could hear everything, ears straining to listen to the rhythmic creak of boots and snow and leather, metal jingling, and soft slaps of skin on bare skin —
And the next shaky, helpless moan that rose all over again in his throat a mere moment or two later when those steady snapping thrusts jerked and stuttered, ‘Santa’ bit out a strained grunt, and that hot, hard cock twitched and pulsed inside him.
Panting, quivering with delight, Jeremy rocked slowly in place, basking in the sensation of getting filled to the brim while stiff heat kept sliding back and forth in his slick, well-used ass; in the shaky, ragged breathing filling his ears and the feel of leather-gloved fingers twitching and tight on his hips. He felt so good he could barely keep his eyes open, leaning heavily on the edge of the chimney with a dopey smile of pure satisfaction curving his parted lips.
Hands gently but firmly caressed his bared ass; those hips pressed forward one last time, slow and languid; and then Jeremy groaned, trembling all over again as that heavy, hard heat finally slipped carefully out of him. The cold air hit him and pulled a slushy whimper from his throat — but somehow didn’t jolt him fully back awake like he knew it really should have.
Drifting in a haze of utterly sated contentment, he was vaguely aware of his clothes being pulled back up and straightened, shutting out the cold winter air… of hands guiding him around and down to sit, leaning back against the brick of the chimney… and finally, a low, rumbling chuckle that widened the smile already on his lips.
He wanted to look, finally, wanted to see… But his eyes were so heavy he couldn’t seem to… open them…
“You are the only person I know who could possibly fall asleep on a roof. In the snow.”
Jeremy startled awake with jolt and a snort at the familiar voice and the hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Wh… wha, ’m’wake. …What?”
“Don’t you dare fall off,” Elijah said, laughter and exasperation in his voice. Jeremy looked up, blinking snowflakes out of his eyelashes, to find Elijah crouching beside him… Wearing a faintly concerned smile along with a white and red Santa hat and coat. The hat did have a bell on the pompom. “Hey, you okay?”
Jeremy nodded, and gave Elijah his best reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m great. I… I really don’t know how I fell asleep after that, I’m sorry.”
“Well, it is getting late,” Elijah said, helping him climb to his feet… and then shuffling a little awkwardly in place and peering nervously towards the edge of the roof. “Look, maybe… Okay, don’t take this the wrong way? But maybe this really isn’t… such a good idea after all. It’s cold, and it’s getting kinda slippery up here with the snow, and…”
Jeremy blinked in confusion, staring at Elijah. “What? But we already…”
He trailed off, looking around. Elijah’s footprints… led straight from the top of the ladder to where he was standing now. Beside Jeremy. Not… not to where Elijah had been standing behind him while nailing him over the damn chimney just a few minutes ago.
“I know,” Elijah was saying in a consoling voice, “I know. We already went to the trouble of climbing up here. And I got all dressed up and everything,” he added, tugging at the fuzzy white hem of his red jacket and sounding slightly embarrassed. “But…”
“No, you’re… probably right,” Jeremy said, distracted. Had he really… somehow managed to dream all that? In just a few minutes, accidentally dozing off on the roof? Giving his head a little shake to clear it, he fixed Elijah with a grin and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I love the suit, though. And the hat is perfect,” he added, biting his lip a little bashfully and tweaking the pompom just to see if the bell jingled.
It did.
Elijah grinned. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Jeremy answered. “Tell you what… Why don’t we get off the roof, go back inside… And, you know, maybe, I catch ‘Santa’ by the tree and offer him something a little better than milk and cookies for all his trouble.”
“I like the sound of that,” Elijah said with a smirk, squeezing Jeremy’s hand as they headed back over to the ladder.
They made it down off the roof without incident, put the ladder away, and headed back inside. Before following Elijah in, though, Jeremy paused just outside the front door and stared up at the edge of the roof with a faint frown. He must have, somehow, just drifted off and… dreamed the whole damn thing.
It had all seemed so real, though. And… he could swear he was, well… more slippery in certain places than he had been when he’d first gone up there.
Cheeks flushed from more than just the cold, Jeremy kicked the snow off his boots — and paused, head cocked at the faint sound of… were those bells jingling? And a distant laugh of —
Nope, Jeremy decided, walking in and firmly shutting the door on the ho ho ho he could have sworn he’d heard again for a second there.
Nope. That was obviously just his imagination, it was late, and he had a cute partner wearing a cute Santa suit who seriously deserved to have his brains sucked out through his dick in thanks for going along with the whole thing in the first place.
And with that, Jeremy kicked off his snowy boots and went inside to do exactly that.
