Surrounded by Christmas lights, music and shoppers full of Christmas cheer is not my idea of a good time. In fact, this entire day has been a shambles. I never wanted to come out in the first place but I was “persuaded”, or “manipulated” more like.
Jees, Stephan can be such a pain in the arse sometimes. What is with him getting me to meet him in the toy department of one of the busiest department stores on one of the busiest days of the year? I know he works here, but there are quieter sections of the store that aren’t crawling with screeching kids.
This is my idea of hell. I hate kids. I hate noise. I hate shopping and I bloody hate Christmas. Jesus Christ, I hope you realise this is all your fault, and bloody Stephan’s.
A remote control car bangs painfully against my ankle. Fuck! The kid controlling it doesn’t even look up until his mother reprimands him then apologises to me then makes me listen to the kid’s damn apology too. I scowl at him. I think that is enough to give him nightmares for a year. Good! The mother gasps and pulls her child away as if I am some kind of mass murderer, muttering about bad tempers and “where is the holiday spirit?” Bloody holiday spirit? The kid drove a fucking weapon of mass destruction into my leg. That’s where my holiday spirit went, lady!
Suddenly I’m accosted from behind. Two arms wrap me up and a warm body presses against my back.
"Hey grumpy," Stephan, the annoying arse that made me come to this living hell, snorts in my ear. "What ya doin’? Soaking up the atmosphere or killing the mood?"
"Killing the mood definitely," I grouch back at him,
"Ben!" he clicks his tongue. I hear the noise in my ear because he hasn’t let go of me yet. His hand comes up to play with the dark curls that have escaped from my thick, woolly hat. What is he thinking, hugging me and caressing me like this in the middle of a toy department?
"Stephan, let go of me, ya great arse. What if someone complains? We’re not in the middle of that gay night club now."
His chuckle breezes past my ear. “Not until you tell me what you want for Christmas,” his whisper is only for me: a whisper that melts me from the inside out.
I roll my eyes, but I know he knows I like the way he does this. He is always so demonstrative whilst I am always watching to see how others are reacting. He’s so brave. I’m such a coward.
"Tell me what you want, bad boy," Stephan continues. "And you might just get it."
"Hmmph!" I grunt, not really trying to get him to let go but making a show of it for appearances sake. "By your definition, I shouldn’t get anything if I’ve been a "bad boy"."
He chuckles and presses his lips to my neck, making me shiver and wish we were somewhere other than this deliriously bright mock up of a winter wonderland and surrounded by impressionable minds and disapproving faces.
"Tell me what you want in your Christmas Stocking, or my hand goes lower."
He grabs a handful of flesh and cloth just above my waistband then slowly caresses lower. I shiver again, feeling my cock begin to fill. This is the last place I want to get a hard on, in the tight jeans I’m wearing there’s no way it will be hidden.
"Hnngh, Stephan, you’d better stop because…." I gasp as he pushes against me and I feel his arousal pressing against my buttocks. What the fuck is he playing at?
"Tell me what you want," his demand is low and sultry and I melt completely. I am not so fucking easy, believe me, but with him, I can’t keep up this bad tempered, bad boy act for very long no matter how much it turns him on. He just knows what buttons to press, and he’s pressing them right now, in the middle of a bloody holiday extravaganza.
"Jesus, Steph, I doubt it would fit in a stocking," I take deep breaths to keep some sort of control over my helplessly aroused body.
He chuckles again, a deep, seductive sound, then eventually releases his hold on me only to take my hand and pull me through the toy department,
"Follow me," he insists. I don’t have much fucking choice.
"Steph, where the fuck are we going?"
"You’ll see," he tells me, cryptically placing the index finger of his free hand on his nose, his blue eyes sparkling. "It’s a secret."
God, I hate secrets even more than I hate fucking Christmas. I think I might be bordering on hating Stephan right now as well, because he’s taking me on the same route that is signposted: “Santa’s Grotto”. We stop outside the archway that leads inside. It is crawling with kids, like it’s infested with the things. Stephan looks at me innocently, but I can see by the smirk that curls his perfect fucking lips that he knows exactly how I am going to react,
"Santa’s fucking Grotto?" I exclaim loudly, grabbing Stephan’s arm and pulling him to one side, out of earshot of the dozen kids that just heard me and the dozen parents and carers that exclaimed in horror that their precious bundles could have been so corrupted by my fowl mouth.
"What the fuck, Stephan?" I hiss.
He’s too busy holding his sides and laughing hysterically to answer me though. Well, I’m so fucking glad he’s having so much fucking fun.
"Come on," he grabs my hand once more, to, thankfully, pull me away from that kid infested, glary, Christmas nightmare. Even if I did like Christmas, which I think we’ve established that I don’t, I wouldn’t be standing in that queue. What are parents thinking, putting their kids through all that stress and making them sit a on a stranger’s knee and tell him their deepest darkest desires? They spend the rest of the year telling them to avoid perverts like that.
"I know a back way in," Stephan sings happily.
Oh my fucking god. He’s taking me to see Santa.
”It’s just through here.”
He pulls me through an emergency exit and out onto a concrete floored corridor where the walls are dowdy and dull and a fucking relief after being bombarded with all the colour and flashing lights out on the shop floor.
"Stephan, mind telling me what you’re up to?" I am suddenly filled with curiosity because he has worked in this store for a year now and this is the first time I’ve been allowed to see "behind the scenes" so to speak.
"Just in here," he whispers, pulling me along as he creeps up to another door and cracks it open just a tad.
"Steph…" he holds up a hand to silence me and I frown. Why do we need to be quiet? As he opens the door, even through the small crack, noise is seeping from what must be the heart of Santa’s Grotto beyond.
Stephan pokes his head through the door then pulls back and beckons me to follow him inside. Just beyond the door is a narrow corridor, not even that really, just a space between the doorway and the Christmas foliage and the bright fairy lights of Santa’s Grotto. I can hear children shouting and laughing and parents chatting as they wend their way along the queue that’s cleverly disguised as a path around Santa’s workshop. No one can see us though, because of the bright lights and the foliage that is there to disguise an ugly, non Christmassy door.
"Come on the coast is clear."
Stephan pulls me fully inside.
"For what?" I ask as he lets the door close behind me.
"For this!" he sighs before pushing me back up against the door and covering my lips with his.
"Hnngh, mmmmmmph!" This is all I can mumble as he attacks my mouth, pushing his tongue against my teeth, demanding entrance.
"What?" he regards me breathlessly as he pulls back, his lips flushed, his pupils blown to the size of footballs. I don’t think he’s ever looked so hot.
"Nothing!" I pull him back to continue the kiss, the last of my protests dying as he presses his body against mine.
His tongue tastes amazing, he always tastes amazing, of coffee, and mint and Stephan. He kisses me and all my bad temper and dark moods disappear. Every time he kisses me is like the first time and I can never get enough of him when he’s like this: demanding and assertive. All I can do is hold on and go along with the ride.
He breaks away from my lips to trace a line of kisses along my jaw to my ear lobe. As he sucks it into his mouth I give a soft cry.
"Shhhh!" he giggles. "There are people just beyond this wall of lights you know."
"I’m fully aware of that thanks, Steph," I whisper back. It’s more of a hiss really. "But it’s a little hard to stay quiet when you’re sucking my earlobe."
Stephan grins, like the Grinch in that bloody Dr Seuss story, all wicked, like he’s about to steal something,
"I’ll suck more than your earlobe if you play your cards right."
”Oh god!” I wail in despair, “I don’t have any cards.”
He chuckles, kisses me to within an inch of my life and falls to his knees anyway.
His hands make light work of my button and fly and very quickly I am about to be sucked off by my boyfriend in the middle of a grotto of fairy lights. I mean, I know there’s not that much chance of us being caught. Everyone on the grotto side of the wall is far to preoccupied with Christmas stuff, and sugar plum bloody fairies, and on our side the only way anyone could find us would be if they opened the door which Stephan has me pinned against,
"Why?" I need to know before I’m distracted beyond coherent thought as he slowly pulls down my boxers to expose my straight, leaking cock.
"You say you hate Christmas," Stephan begins, kissing gently along the length of my cock and causing me to gasp and bury my fingers in his hair for support as my knees go weak. "I never understood it really. You won’t tell me." He shrugs, looking up at me tenderly. He’s so tolerant of all of my many moods. "Probably a bad childhood memory. It doesn’t matter if you won’t tell." God, I love this man so much. "So I decided, instead of trying to force the reason out of you I thought I’d create a good memory instead."
"A good memory?" I frown. He smiles, as he teases the tip of my cock with his lips and watches as my eyes roll into the back of my head. My entire body shivers.
"I am going to fuck you in Santa’s Grotto, Mr Ben Howie. I am going to fuck you so hard when you come you’ll see stars, and I don’t mean the ones on top of all those stupid fake Christmas trees."
With that he opens his mouth and swallows me down in one go. Fucking hell! I can’t help myself. I don’t care if anyone hears me. I tip my head back and cry out as he sucks me so deep I can feel my cock hit the back of his throat,
"Stephan, oh god."
He hums in approval and the vibrations against the sensitive skin of my already over sensitive cock send me over the edge. As I come I shout out, loud and clear for all to hear.
"Merry fucking Christmas!"