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Christmas in Seoul was always special. Not so much because of the snow, which was never abundant, but because of the twinkling fairy lights, the dazzling shop windows, and that warm, sweet feeling of anticipation that hung in the cold air. For Sieun, this year was the first time he wasn't celebrating in a dormitory, but in their own tiny, yet infinitely cozy apartment with Suho.
They bought a small artificial fir tree and decorated it with cheap but cute ornaments. The real treasure was the string of lights, blinking in all the colors of the rainbow in a chaotic, cheerful rhythm. When they turned it on for the first time, real magic sparked to life in the darkness of their living room. Suho, big and clumsy, hugged him from behind, rested his chin on the top of Sieun's head, and whispered, "Beautiful. Just like you." Sieun brushed him off, but his cheeks burned.
Under the tree already lay a few neatly wrapped boxes. Sieun had spent a week choosing the paper and ribbons. There were warm reindeer-patterned socks for Suho — a practical yet sweet gift for a guy who was always freezing in his coat, especially in winter. A new, expensive tablet stylus for Sieun — the exact one he had unconsciously eyed in the store a month ago before immediately dismissing it, saying, "It's too expensive and unnecessary." Suho had remembered. And there was also a joint voucher for a jjimjilbang — a Korean spa they had talked about visiting "someday."
But Sieun wanted something more. Not something material. Something that would linger in memory, that would warm them beyond just this evening. Suho had been working non-stop all through the pre-holiday weeks, delivering orders at a frantic pace. He would come home, shed his coat, collapse on the sofa, and sometimes fall asleep right there without making it to the bedroom. But within that exhausted body, there was always strength for a smile — crooked, tired, but sincere. Strength to hug Sieun, pull him close, and ask in a quiet, hoarse voice, "How was your day, baby? Not too tired?" Sieun saw how he literally melted, dissolved from the accumulated fatigue, but never once heard a complaint or a whine from him. He wanted to thank him. To give him not just an evening, but an explosion of emotion. A celebration Suho would remember for the entire next year.
The idea hit him suddenly as he was scrolling through his social media feed and stumbled upon a photo of someone in a revealing elf costume—a tight green dress, stockings, pointy ears.
Normally, Sieun would have just snorted and scrolled right past it. But this time, his data-driven mind instantly analyzed and adapted the concept. Suho adored his legs. And his slender waist. He admired his entire being with an almost unhealthy, puppy-like devotion.
The thought made blood rush to his face so sharply his ears rang. He sat alone in the quiet apartment, and a wave of heat washed over him. This was madness. Vulgar. Something completely out of character for him. But along with the shame and fear came a surge of wild, forbidden courage. What if? What if he became for Suho not just the boyfriend waiting at home, but… the gift itself? A special, personal Santa. Not a bearded old man in a baggy suit, but his own bold, explicit version. A living embodiment of the holiday and of forbidden desire.
He didn’t let himself second-guess it. He went straight to an adult website. His fingers trembled as he typed into the search bar: "Santa costume, male, sexy." The results made him burn with shame and… curiosity. He meticulously, like a scientist, selected the sizes, double-checking his own measurements. Velvet. Scarlet red. A must. Silk or lace? Lace. Pushing the boundary of acceptability. He added not only the costume to the cart but also, separately, a set of the most revealing, almost weightless lace underwear—the kind that was embarrassing to even think about. He clicked "place order." His heart hammered as if he had just committed a crime.
The package arrived two days before Christmas. Suho was at work. Sieun, with a lump in his throat, locked himself in the bathroom with scissors in hand. He opened the cardboard box like a bomb disposal expert defusing an explosive. The fabric felt pleasant to the touch—soft, dense velvet. He laid everything out on the lid of the washing machine: the short skirt, the top, the thigh-high socks, the hat with a white pom-pom, the wide belt with a heavy, cold buckle. And separately—that small, shameful packet of lace.
With trembling hands, he undressed and began to put it on. First, the underwear, thin as spiderwebs. The lace stretched over his skin, strange and arousing. Then the thigh-highs—they hugged his calves and thighs tightly. The skirt. It was ridiculously short. The velvet slid over his skin, barely covering what it was supposed to. The top clung to his torso, emphasizing his flat chest, narrow shoulders. The fur trim tickled his neck. He fastened the wide belt at the narrowest part of his waist, and the act felt inexplicably, incredibly sexy. And finally, the hat. He pulled it onto his head, tilted it slightly, and raised his eyes to the mirror.
His breath caught.
The reflection in the mirror was… not him. Or perhaps it was his most hidden, forbidden self. The scarlet red looked insanely good against his pale skin and dark hair. The velvet hugged his hips softly, and the skirt was so short that the slightest movement offered a view of the lace underwear and the lower curve of his buttocks. The thigh-highs made his legs look long and enticing. The top and belt created the illusion of a fragile figure, yet one that was ready to be possessed. He turned, looking at himself from behind. The skirt rode up even higher, fully revealing the rounded, firm swell of his buttocks, only nominally covered by the black lace. The sight was frankly provocative, vulgar, and incredibly arousing. His own body reacted to the spectacle—desire began to stir beneath the thin fabric of the underwear.
He pictured Suho’s face the moment he would open the door. First, shock. Confusion. Then—a slow dawning in his eyes. And after that—that look. Hot, dark, predatory, full of pure, undiluted want. The look Sieun sometimes caught on himself in bed, but which Suho usually tried to restrain in everyday life. The look that made Sieun’s legs weak and stole his breath. He adored that look. Secretly craved it like a drug.
Fear ("What if he’s scared? What if he laughs? What if it’s too much?") and thrill churned together in his stomach into a single, swirling knot. But, looking at his reflection—bold, beautiful, resolute—he understood: he would do it. He would give Suho this insane, unforgettable surprise. He would become his personal, greatest Christmas miracle.
—
The evening of December 25th. Suho was supposed to be back by eight.
Sieun had prepared meticulously. He had tidied up, lit a few pine and ginger-scented candles, dimmed the lights, leaving only the twinkling of the Christmas tree lights. He had put on a little makeup-lining his eyes to make them seem even larger, adding gloss to his lips.Then he stood frozen in the center of the room in his revealing outfit, waiting for the sound of the key in the lock. His heart was pounding like crazy, and goosebumps raced across his skin-partly from excitement, partly from the cool air in the apartment, as the costume didn't cover much.
The sound of the key, the click of the lock. Each metallic click echoed dully in the tomblike silence of the apartment, matching the frantic rhythm of his heart. He froze, straightening his back, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly and deeply through sheer willpower, even though every inhalation seemed to burn from within. His own body betrayed his nervous excitement: beneath the thin silk of the lace underwear, his cock, already half-hard from the mere thought of what was to come, twitched and grew heavier, pressing against his stomach.The chill from the cool air touched the bare skin under the short skirt, but inside, everything was blazing.
The door swung open, letting in a gust of icy air that smelled of the city in winter, exhaust fumes, and... him.
Suho. He didn't just look tired; he looked utterly exhausted. His usually neat dark hair was disheveled and stuck to his forehead; his powerful shoulders, so broad under his coat, seemed to carry an invisible weight.He was muttering something irritated under his breath as he bent to take off his shoes. His movements were mechanical, devoid of their usual energy.
And then he straightened up and lifted his head.
His gaze, dull and tired, swept across the floor before stumbling upon the figure in the center of the room. First came complete, absolute incomprehension. His brain, clogged with routes and addresses, refused to process the image: scarlet velvet, white fur, a strip of bare skin between the top and the skirt, white thigh-highs tightly hugging his calves. Suho’s eyes slowly dragged upward: slender yet strong calves in the sheer fabric, the upper part of the thighs where the velvet skirt ended, leaving a disconcerting amount of naked skin; a narrow, delicate waist cinched by a wide belt with a massive buckle; the soft tummy Suho loved so much… The chest under the fitted top was flat, but that only made the whole look all the more bold and ambiguous. And finally—the face. His face. With eyes subtly lined for emphasis—eyes that were already huge, like a deer’s, and now shone with nervous excitement and the glitter applied to his lips. The Santa hat with its white pom-pom was tilted amusingly to the side.
Suho's jaw went slack. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply. The sound was loud in the silence.
"What..." His voice came out hoarse, ragged from fatigue and shock. "Sieun-ah? Is that... baby, what are you...?"
"Merry Christmas, honey," Sieun said, forcing his voice to sound low, seductive, and confident, even though he was trembling inside. He executed a small, deliberately graceful turn on the almost-invisible heels built into the thigh-highs. The movement was calculated: the already-short skirt flew up, offering Suho a view of the back of his thighs and the soft, plush, rounded curves of his buttocks in dark lace panties, held up by the attached stocking garters. "Santa brought you a special gift. Not exactly standard issue."
Suho froze for a second, then his body seemed to give a violent shake. The fatigue slid off him like dirty clothes. He threw his courier bag onto the floor with a sharp, heavy thud that echoed through the apartment. Without tearing his burning, dark gaze from Sieun, he began to undress slowly, with exaggerated theatricality. First the scarf, then the coat. Every movement was heavy, charged with a newfound strength. The tension in the air became almost tangible, thick as honey.
"This..." He took a step forward, and his voice dropped an octave, becoming thick, velvety, full of that very tone that made Sieun's knees weak and tightened his lower abdomen into a hard, hot knot. "This is my gift? All this... beauty?"
"All yours," Sieun nodded, biting his painted lower lip. He felt himself hardening fully under the fabric of the panties, becoming firm and demanding. "If, of course, you've been a good boy this year."
Suho let out a short, raspy chuckle that held not a single drop of amusement—only hunger.
"Oh, baby," he said with such an intimate, familiar tone that a shiver ran down Sieun's spine, and his nipples tightened and grew sensitive under the top. "I have been the best. For months. Patient, working, dreaming of nothing but this moment. Of you."
He closed the distance until they were nearly touching, and Sieun had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. Suho was so tall, so powerful in his simple grey sweatshirt and pants. The scent of cold air, sweat, and his own musky aroma hit Sieun's senses, driving him wild. Large, strong hands encircled his waist over the velvet, fingers digging into his flesh, feeling the bones and muscles beneath the fabric.
"You look... unbearable," Suho whispered, his gaze glued to Sieun's shiny lips before slowly sliding down to the neckline of the top, where the outlines of his hardened nipples were just visible. "This skirt... it should be illegal. I mean, look at you. Do you have any idea how much this drives me crazy?"
"It's only for you," Sieun replied, his own hands rising to rest on Suho's chest. He felt the firm, defined pectoral muscles under his fingers, and his own body answered with a feverish throb in his groin. "Want to... check what's hidden underneath? All the treasures."
Instead of an answer, Suho leaned in and captured his lips in a greedy, wet, open-mouthed kiss. This was no gentle holiday peck. It was a declaration of intent. His tongue demanded entry, invading his mouth roughly and dominantly, seeking out his own. The taste of coffee, fatigue, and something purely masculine, purely Suho, filled him. At the same time, Suho's hands slid lower, gripping his ass through the velvet.
Fingers dug into the pliant flesh, squeezing and stretching the fabric, and Sieun felt a firm, powerful pressure arise between their bodies,the impressive bulge in Suho's pants pressed against his lower abdomen, while his own, already fully hard length strained painfully against the tight lace.
Suho pulled back, breathing heavily, his lips wet and slightly swollen.
"I don't even know where the hell to start," he admitted, his eyes burning with a dark, predatory fire. They darted to the pom-pom on the hat, then to the velvet on his hips. "With ripping that ridiculous hat off you... or just hiking up this skirt and fucking you right here by the tree, so the lights blink in time."
"The hat," Sieun exhaled, his voice trembling with arousal, "stays. It's part of the look. The skirt... you can just push it aside. Or tear it. I don't care."
Suho growled-low, animalistic-right into his ear, and then seized his lips again, this time biting the lower one until it was swollen and sensitive to the slightest touch. With one arm, he held Sieun flush against him so he could feel every muscle of his body, while his other hand slid sharply under the velvet fabric of the skirt.Hot, work-roughened fingers dug into the bare, tender skin of his inner thigh, making him shudder.
"Nothing under here?" Suho whispered, his fingers creeping higher, toward his groin, searching for the waistband of the panties.
"Almost nothing," Sieun breathed out.
The fingers found the silky lace and, beneath it, the hard, hot flesh of his fully erect cock, pressed against his stomach.
"Oh god, baby," Suho groaned, his breath catching. He slipped his fingers under the waistband, wrapping his hand around Sieun's length. His palm was hot and damp.
"You're already all ready for me... so hard... and wet. All for me?"
"All... for you..." Sieun arched as Suho's thumb found the sensitive head, slick with pre-come, and rubbed over it, smearing the wetness. His knees buckled.
Suho pulled back, his face serious, his gaze dark and promising complete submission.
"Alright, baby. Since you went through all this trouble, got dressed up, prepared..." he turned Sieun around abruptly but not roughly, then pushed him forward gently yet inexorably toward the high back of the plush armchair standing beside the twinkling tree. "Lean on it. Hands on the back. And don't look back."
Sieun obediently bent over, resting his elbows and forearms on the soft fabric. The shimmer of the multi-colored fairy lights reflected in his eyes, clouded with desire. He felt Suho lift his skirt, hiking it up to his very waist. The cool air of the room swept over his completely exposed, plump buttocks, now covered only by the thin spiderweb of lace panties that cut deep into the cleft between them. A wave of goosebumps rose on his skin from the mix of shame and arousal.
"First," Suho said, his voice full of dark, sweet intentions, "is a little punishment. For being such a brat. For driving me to this state with just a picture. And for... hiding such a perfect ass behind textbooks all year long."
And before Sieun could say anything or brace himself, a sharp, fiery slap from Suho's wide palm landed on one rounded, high cheek. The sound was wet and loud. Pain flared bright and sharp, but was almost instantly replaced by a deep, spreading heat through his pelvis and a wave of arousal that made his cock twitch. Sieun cried out—a high, startled sound.
"Ow!"
"Hush, baby," Suho ordered, his voice sounding right at his ear as a second, even louder slap crashed down on the other cheek. Sieun's body jerked, and he felt a trickle of pre-come run down the inside of his thigh. "You wanted a celebration.You wanted me to appreciate your gift. I'm appreciating it. Very thoroughly."
The slaps weren't cruel. They were ritualistic, precisely measured. Each crack of palm against tender, now-pinkening skin echoed in the pit of Sieun's stomach, winding the spring of his desire tighter and tighter. Suho alternated between cheeks, sometimes spanking, sometimes gently rubbing the heated skin with his rough fingers, sometimes digging into the flesh hard enough to leave marks.
"So soft... so responsive," he murmured, his breath growing heavier against Sieun's neck. "My most beautiful boy... in a little Santa suit. You knew what you were getting into, right? Knew I wouldn't be able to hold back."
"K-knew..." Sieun exhaled, his face burning, his cock throbbing in time with the strikes. "More... please..."
Suho obliged his request, spanking him a few more times until the skin beneath the lace grew hot, sensitive to the slightest touch, and bore clear red fingerprints. Then he leaned down, and his lips, hot and damp, pressed against the most sensitive spot-the place where the lace dug into the crease. He kissed and nibbled the heated skin, his fingers catching on the thin fabric of the panties.
"Now... a reward for your bravery," he whispered, his lips brushing against Sieun's skin, his hot breath making Sieun shudder. "And for your patience."
With one sharp motion, Suho tore the flimsy lace panties away, exposing him completely. Then he spread his buttocks apart with both hands and pressed his mouth against his most intimate place.
The sensation was mind-blowing, otherworldly. Suho's hot, incredibly wet, and skillful tongue didn't just touch-it invaded. First, a flat, broad lick across the entire area, then a targeted, strong pressure right against the tight, shock and-arousal-relaxed hole. Suho wasn't just licking—he was devouring him, with deep, hungry sounds, penetrating inside, curling his tongue, fucking him with deliberate, unhurried thrusts, sucking and nibbling the tender skin around. Sieun screamed, his fingers clawing into the chair fabric until his knuckles turned white.
His body arched in a silent plea. The world narrowed to the flickering lights behind his eyelids, the smell of pine, ginger, and pure, animal sex, to the unbearably sweet, burning sensation tearing him apart from the inside. He felt his cock, completely ignored, throbbing heavily, a trickle of slickness running down the inside of his thigh.
"Suho... p-please... I can't... I'm gonna..." His words disintegrated into incoherent syllables. He was on the edge, his balls drawing up tight.
"You can, baby," came Suho's thick, desire-soaked voice. His mouth pulled away for a second, and Sieun felt saliva trickle down his inner thighs. "Come. Come from my tongue. Just like this. I want to feel you clench."
It was a command impossible to disobey. A wave crashed over Sieun with such devastating force that his vision darkened and his ears rang. He screamed, his body arching in a convulsive curve as a hot jet erupted from his cock, still trapped in the torn panties, splattering his lower abdomen and the inside of the skirt.
The spasms were so intense they echoed even in the place where Suho was still licking him. Suho didn't pull away, helping him ride through each convulsive pulse until Sieun went limp, completely spent, breathing heavily, still leaning against the chair, his legs trembling.
He felt Suho slowly stand up, felt his large, firm hands turning him around.Sieun was weak, pliant, his eyes wet and unfocused, his makeup smeared. Suho looked at him with such animalistic adoration and unquenched hunger that it was almost painful.
"You're incredible," Suho whispered, taking off his hat and kissing his sweaty, sticky forehead, then his soft, swollen-from-kissing lips. "The best, the boldest, the hottest gift I've ever received. And it's not even fully unwrapped yet."
Then, without another word, he scooped Sieun up into his arms—Sieun let out a weak, soundless gasp of surprise—and carried him to the bedroom, leaving behind the twinkling tree, the discarded Santa hat, the torn lace panties, and the night that was just beginning—a night that promised to be long, very, very hot, and full of new, even more intimate discoveries. Their Christmas had only just begun.
Suho didn't just carry him to the bedroom. He carried him down the narrow hallway, pressing him against his bare chest that was hot with arousal, and laid him on the wide bed with an almost ceremonial care, as if arranging the most precious gift under the tree. The room was submerged in deep, velvety twilight, broken only by a stripe of dull orange light from the window and the furious pounding of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.
Sieun lay on his back, limbs sprawled, his body still trembling with small aftershocks from his recent orgasm. The costume was in complete disarray: the scarlet velvet skirt was hiked up to the very base of his stomach, fully exposing his crotch, still damp and sticky with his own release. The fitted top had slipped down, revealing his left nipple-small, dark pink, already hard and sensitive from the cool air and the lingering arousal. The white thigh-highs had slid down to his ankles. He was undressed, vulnerable, and incredibly beautiful.
Suho stood by the bed, and Sieun could see a serious, focused fire burning in his dark eyes, reflecting the street light-devoid of any playfulness now. It was the gaze of a hungry predator that had spotted its prey. Slowly, with exaggerated theatricality, he pulled off his sweatshirt. The muscles of his torso, sculpted and defined, rippled under his skin with every movement. Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down along with his boxers in one sharp motion, baring himself completely.
His cock was impressive-long, thick, with a swollen, dark-burgundy head already slick with drops of pre-cum and glistening in the semi-darkness.
It stood almost vertical against his stomach, heavy and pulsing. Suho approached the bed and knelt between Sieun's spread legs, but didn't touch him, just breathed over him with hot, ragged breaths.
"Turn over, baby," his voice was quiet, but steel laced through it. "On your stomach. I want to see that ass I just spanked and... licked clean. I want to see how red it is from me."
A shiver, far stronger than any from the cold, raced down Sieun's spine. Obediently, forcing his weakened muscles to work, he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow that smelled of their shared shampoo and now, also, of sex. The velvet skirt slid down to his lower back like a misplaced accessory, fully exposing his buttocks to view—they were indeed flushed pink, with clear, nearly purple imprints of Suho's fingers stark against his pale skin. And nestled between them was that damp, pink, relaxed little hole, still tender from his previous orgasm.
Sieun heard Suho open the nightstand drawer, heard the distinct click of the lube bottle cap popping open. The sound was indecent and full of promise.
Then a heavy, large palm gently settled on his back. Suho dragged his hand from Sieun's neck down along his spine, feeling every vertebra, every tremor beneath his fingers. His palm stopped at the small of his back, then softly but firmly grasped one burning, sensitive cheek.
"You're burning up all over," Suho whispered, his voice thick as molasses. "Covered in my marks. And so soft. So pliant. All mine."
Sieun moaned in response as Suho's fingers, thickly coated with cool, slippery gel, slid between his buttocks. They took their time. One thick finger, confident and relentless, began to push inside, aided by the residual slickness and the relaxed state from the recent rimming. The sensation was strange-tight, intimate, slightly painful from the stretch, but the lube and Suho's skilled movements did their work.
The finger sank deep, all the way to the base, and Suho went still, allowing Sieun's inner muscles to adjust to the intrusion.
"Good?" he asked, leaning down to kiss his shoulder, then biting the skin at the base of his neck, leaving a small red mark.
"Y-yes..." Sieun exhaled, his voice muffled by the pillow. His body was gradually accepting the invasion, and the strange feeling of fullness began to mingle with a tremulous, dirty excitement. His own cock, still half-soft from the first orgasm, began to slowly fill with blood again, pressing against the mattress.
Suho began to move his finger-slowly, deliberately, twisting it inside, searching for the right spots. Then, without removing the first, he added a second. The stretch became more pronounced, making Sieun grimace and clutch the sheets. But the pain was dull, manageable, and it dissolved into the rising tide of pleasure as Suho purposefully massaged him from within, finding that sensitive little bundle.
"There it is..." Suho murmured with satisfaction as Sieun jolted violently and let out a choked, high-pitched cry. "Found your sweet spot, baby. You're so responsive. So tight inside and yet... such a dirty boy at heart."
He worked his fingers, stretching him, preparing him, while his other hand caressed his back, his buttocks, slipping under the skirt to squeeze his thighs. Occasionally, his fingers deliberately brushed the perineum, a little lower, massaging his heavy testicles, making Sieun shudder.
"Do you think you're ready to take your Santa for real?" Suho's voice sounded right by his ear, low, seductive, and full of dark humor.
"Ready to take this big, thick cock that you caused all by yourself with this little show?"
"Yes... please, Suho..." Sieun begged, no longer able to endure this sweet, exquisite torture. His hips moved involuntarily against the fingers, seeking more friction, more depth. "I need... I need you inside me. Now."
"Patient," Suho rasped with a low chuckle. He slowly, carefully withdrew his fingers with a wet sound, leaving Sieun empty and yearning for a moment. Then came a thick, wet noise-Suho generously slicking up his imposing length with lube. The sound was so indecent and thrilling that Sieun moaned, pressing his face deeper into the pillow.
Then, the touch. Not of a finger, but of something larger, far larger, blunt, incredibly hot and hard, against his relaxed, prepared entrance. Suho lifted his hips, stuffing a crumpled pillow beneath them to change the angle. His big hands rested firmly on Sieun's waist.
"Relax, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing his neck, that spot just below the ear that always drove Sieun crazy. "Trust me. I'll go in slow. But I'll go deep. I want to feel every little fold inside you."
And he began to enter. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, overcoming the resistance of muscles, even prepared as they were. Sieun growled into the pillow, feeling his body clench around the incredible thickness, feeling himself stretched, filled to the brim, to the very depths of sensation. There was pain—sharp, burning, forcing tears to his eyes. But it immediately mingled with the overwhelming feeling of closeness, submission, and incredible, animalistic arousal. He heard Suho groan near his ear, heard his breath hitch with every centimeter gained.
"God… Sieun…" his words were broken, rasping. "You're so tight… so fucking hot and tight… hugging me with your tight, hot little hole… Are you okay? Tell me."
Sieun nodded, unable to form a single word, only letting out an incoherent moan. When Suho was fully sheathed, his pelvis flush against Sieun's buttocks, he stilled, giving him time to adjust to that monstrous fullness. The pain began to recede, replaced by a strange, deep satisfaction and a burning, unbearable need to move, to have that cock rub inside him, reaching his very core.
"G-go on..." he finally exhaled, his voice shattered. "Please, move..."
Suho began to move. At first, cautiously, almost timidly, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. But with every stroke, his thrusts grew more confident, stronger, deeper. He found his rhythm-not too fast, but relentlessly deep, the kind where his balls slapped against Sieun's skin with every drive. Each penetration made Sieun shudder and emit choked, raspy sounds.Suho held him by the hips, controlling the movements, his fingers digging into the skin hard enough to surely leave bruises.
"Feel it, baby?" he whispered, his lips, sticky with sweat, brushing the shell of Sieun's ear, his tongue briefly tracing the edge. "Feel how deep I am in you? How I'm stretching you open from the inside? How your boyfriend's big cock is stuffing you full?"
"Yes-ss... god, yes..." Sieun moaned, his voice cracking on a high note.
The sensation was all-consuming, overwhelming.He could feel every vein on Suho's cock, each thrust reaching the most secret, tender depths, hitting that very spot that made sparks fly behind his eyes.
Suho sped up, his movements becoming sharper, more animalistic, stripped of all restraint. He struck true, and with each powerful drive, a new, brighter, tighter coil of pleasure wound itself deep inside Sieun, squeezing his balls and making his own cock, trapped between his body and the mattress, throb painfully.
"You're mine.." Suho growled right into his ear, his control dissolving with every second. "All mine... my beautiful, brazen little slut in this stupid Santa skirt... I want you so much... always... want to fuck this tight, hot ass of yours every day... make you scream my name..."
Sieun could no longer think. His world had narrowed to the bed, to this powerful, sweat-slicked body above and inside him, to the fiery explosion building in his lower abdomen, tightening his testicles into a hard, painful knot. He was full, split open, owned, and it was incredible, humiliating, and beautiful.
"Suho... I... l'm gonna come..." he gasped out, feeling the spasms already starting to seize his stomach.
"Together, baby," Suho groaned, his movements turning chaotic,convulsive, deep to the point of pain.He pulled out almost completely and then drove back in with one last, earth-shattering, powerful thrust at the exact moment orgasm crashed over Sieun in a devastating wave of blinding white light.
Sieun cried out, sobbed, his body tensing in the agony of pleasure, internal spasms squeezing Suho's cock with incredible, milking force.That was the final straw. Suho let out a low, drawn-out, animalistic groan, thrust into him one last time in a final convulsion, burying himself as deep as possible, and went still, spilling into him in hot, pulsing streams, filling him with himself.
They collapsed together, heavy, sticky, completely emptied, shattered. Suho didn't pull out immediately but simply slumped all his weight onto Sieun, pressing him into the sweat-dampened mattress, his breath hot, ragged, and damp against Sieun's neck. Sieun couldn't move, couldn't think.He could only feel-the unbearable, sweet weight on top of him, the heat of another's seed inside him, and an absolute, blissful emptiness.
Several long minutes passed before their breathing evened out. Finally, Suho carefully pulled out with a soft, wet sound, making Sieun shudder weakly and whimper from the simultaneous feeling of over-fullness and sudden void. He turned Sieun onto his back-the movement was gentle, almost tender. He looked at his face-ravaged, radiant, with eyeliner smeared on his cheeks and pillow marks on his skin.
"Nothing hurts, baby?" he asked quietly, his voice hoarse but filled again with that endless tenderness.He brushed his thumb over Sieun's wet cheek. "I wasn't... too rough?"
Sieun shook his head, unable to speak. He reached for him with a weak hand, and Suho lay down beside him, holding him tight in an almost suffocating embrace, pulling the crumpled blanket they'd kicked to the floor in their passion over them.
"That was..." Sieun managed to whisper, his throat raw.
"Incredible," Suho finished for him, kissing his temple, the corner of his eye. "You were incredible. That costume... that bold, dirty idea... this night... I'll never forget it. Never. My favorite boy."
They lay in silence, listening to the slowing beat of their two hearts. Somewhere in the other room, the fairy lights on the tree still blinked, naive and festive. The scent of gingerbread candles had finally mingled with the thick, pungent smell of sex, sweat, and their bodies.
"You know what?" Suho said quietly, his voice already soft and sleepy.
"Mmm?" Sieun was on the verge of passing out, his eyelids heavy.
"Tomorrow morning... I want you to put this on again. Just the skirt. And maybe those stretched-out thigh-highs. And we'll have breakfast like that. And then... maybe we'll do it again."
Sieun let out a weak, soundless chuckle, pressing his forehead against Suho's collarbone.
"Pervert."
"Your pervert, and you love me," Suho agreed without a trace of shame, holding him tighter. "And your most faithful, grateful admirer of Santa-Sieun. Good night, my beautiful, bold, best gift in the world."
"Good... night... my insatiable puppy," Sieun whispered back and sank into a deep, dreamless, well-earned sleep, feeling like the most loved, most desired, and most... used creature in the world, and that was exactly what he had wanted. Their first Christmas together wasn't just a holiday. It became a myth. Their personal, hot, indecent, and forever unforgettable myth.