In the Lakebound Sleigh [18+]
On one foggy Christmas Eve hookup, a big gator realizes that it doesn't take a red nose to guide a sleigh.
On one foggy Christmas Eve hookup, a big gator realizes that it doesn't take a red nose to guide a sleigh.
Story edited by wellifimust and Psydrosis
Wonderful artwork as a Patreon gift from the generous @Spextherat
Word count: 4,148
_'Twas the night before Christmas, and down by the lake,
Crept around a fat gator with noteworthy cake;
Who searched for his date with a blue-nosed doofus,
With the name of the broad-armed walrus, Rufus.
Both giants were handsome, and gentle to boot,
But awkward on dates from their toes to their snoots;
Quite different their worlds, and what they expected,
Yet one simple gift would find them connected._
~~~
Fifty minutes in traffic, twenty more walking in circles through a storm on one of the shortest evenings of the year. I grunt as I bend over and pick clumps of snow out of the tops of my boots.
Who lives on a boat, much less drags it up here in the winter? Who even lives up here?
I stare down my snout into my sleeping phone, reflecting my snow-covered hood under which my eyes barely peek. Clearly, the same asshole who drove thirty kilometres out of town, on a holiday, through a foggy blizzard for a quick fuck. I tap the thumbs of my mittens in the same password pattern seven times before the damn phone detects my fingers.
Up pops the last page I had open: a picture of the forty-three year-old walrus lying on his back, teal blue eyes glancing timidly into the camera like he was surprised by his own selfie. His nose, oddly enough, matches the vibrant colour of his irises, above where his fluffy moustache swallows the base of his two fist-size tusks. Captured in the frame is the curve of his chest: a sea of orange fur covered by a wide channel of beige.
With several gloved swipes past his fumbling selfies, I finally find the address...again. Five minutes back a direction I swear I just came from. I sigh and click off the screen, but my phone buzzes with a new text.
Storm's getting worse on Shallowcroft. Hope traffic isn't too bad. I turned the lights on, but let me know if you have trouble =)
I stop walking as my mitted thumbs tap repeatedly at two letters.
okokk
My phone leads me for a couple more minutes beyond the crossroads of the trail I turned wrong at. After navigating through the snow under a darkening sky, I come across a hill, below which the lakeshore sits. I scan down the docks again, noticing where the water glows in reds and greens below a boat covered in holiday lights. I turn on my phone again to add another message.
nvm found thr boat. im big dumb
He types for a bit while I walk. After a moment, a new message pops up.
Fantastic! See you soon!
Stuffing my phone back in my pocket and squeezing it with one of my freezing hands, I strut slowly down the far side of the lake.
As I get to the dock where the boat's staked, I look at it for a moment, watching over my white puffs of breath shaking off the snowfall powdering my snout. After making sure it looks just like the picture, I step onto the bow and knock on the front door.
"One second!" calls a low, sing-song voice. A few moments pass before footsteps pound to the door. It opens a crack, and a fluffy red mitten pulls its side and yanks it open.
He stands a couple inches taller than me, feeding me a jolly, full-tusked smile behind a full moustache and beard, atop which his thin, gold-rimmed glasses sit. Under that, he wears a fluffy Santa hat, with a red coat hanging open over the width of his big round gut. Suspender straps peek out under the jacket, hoisting a matching pair of pants which cover the length of his legs...except where--
"Heya! Merry Christmas!" he calls with unflinching glee, peeking over his big blue nose. "Yuh look like a popsicle out there!"
I open my mouth to speak, but it freezes with my stare between his legs.
He wears a loose pair of red chaps, letting his orange meaty dick just dangle there, swaying slightly in the winter breeze.
His big gut shakes as he laughs. "Oh, ho, ho! Like a candy store, ain't it? Don't worry, you'll get to touch it. Why don'tcha climb on in and warm up?"
~~~
_A boat caught his eye while he strode down the dock,
And swung back the door to a free-swinging cock;
The walrus was jolly, with titanic tum,
And beckoned Mitch in with a sign of his thumb.
While the two were pleasant and comfy when sexting,
A meeting in real life could be quite perplexing;
No more in his prime, Mitch wasn't a laddie,
But Rufus could tell he still needed a daddy._
~~~
I rush inside as soon as I feel the refreshing warmth of the boat's interior. I stamp my boots and slide off my coat into his waiting paw. "Oh, thanks!" I stop as I gaze over his festive outfit. He never texted about a costume party. "Gaw-damn...you got a kink or something?"
Rufus shuts the door and grins casually. "Heh. Surprised you caught ol' Santa undercover? Not a bad catch, hm? Speaking of, I've got halibut in the fridge. Freshly caught, since elves can't send much 'ere on their own!"
Sounds like a yes. I don't say anything while he stares over my shoulder.
The Christmas tree stands in the far corner of the living room, across from the couch, decorated just as nicely as the outside of the boat. It's so tall that its tip bends against the ceiling, like the room just shrunk around it. A small stereo set sits on a table nearby, playing some annoying old holiday jazz. My glance shimmies back to him.
"Quaint 'lil setup, I know," he chuckles cordially. "The boat's a bit cramped; shower's too small for me. I hafta heat the place whenever I drag a partner in from the snow. No room to have the whole pack 'a reindeer, but..." he winks as he scratches his balls, "I know we can make it work one-on-one."
The come-on gets me more than I expected. I fidget as he walks past me. "Props to your work, but...heating? Don't you live in here?"
"I do! Just a few hours south. I just take ol' Dorothy up here for the scenery each season." He turns to me with a twinkle in his eye. "When we're not up in the North Pole, at least. That's our secret, though!"
He forks out a paw and gestures me to follow. When he steps over to the tree, he groans as he bends down and grabs a big box covered in gold speckled wrapping paper.
~~~
_The dim alligator caught onto the act,
Yet fitting apparel he solemnly lacked;
But Rufus was kind when he looked 'neath the pines,
At tightly wrapped boxes that glistened and shined.
The gator was modest, and shy at the sight,
And who knew a skater could be that polite?
But seeing the gift was like planting the seed,
The joy of performance that one pair could breed._
~~~
I gawk between him and the pimped out box silently.
He beams earnestly at me. "Take it! It's yours!"
It isn't heavy, but its width fills my arms. I press my claws into the neat wrapping and flip the box around in my hands.
"I'm kinda slow with this stuff...I thought I was just your Biggr date," I say, kind of flustered as I vaguely remember him asking for my shoe size. "I didn't get you anything..."
I find the tag strung around the bow. Rudolph, it reads.
"Shh! Don't worry about that, dear! It's for both of us, trust me!" he proclaims.
I weigh in between my hands. It doesn't feel cool of me to...
His grin is so wide that I squash that feeling and smile too. I cut my claw through the bow and tear through the paper, letting it slip away. When I get to the box underneath, I lift the lid and wade through a lake of tissue paper.
Rain boots? I think, pulling one out. The sole flops black rubber over the side of my hand. That's when I notice it has a high heel. It's odd on its own, but the box gets even more perplexing as I ruffle through to a short antler headband resting in the paper.
"This is cool," I say, glancing back at a grinning Rufus, not really sure how to react. "Thank you! I always wanted new stylin'...high heels?"
He leans over me and peers into the box. "Mhm. You showed up a little early, so I hadn't quite set the carrots out yet, but, y'know..." he winks again, "I've got a carrot of my own for you to munch on."
"Oh? Does that go with halibut?"
He blinks in confusion. Then his grin flashes back quickly. "Yeah!...But I wouldn't wanna dangle one in front of your nose, would I, Rudolph?"
Wait...
I stare down into the box and pick out the antlers. They drag on something in there before I yank them up and see...a bell-studded harness tangled around it? I give him another puzzled glance before I rifle through the rest, finding a matching collar and a shoulder-length pair of rubber gloves.
"Whaddya say? You wanna join my crew on this foggy eve?" He feeds me a cheesy smile over the tops of his glasses. "Wanna guide my sleigh tonight?"
He's committed to the act, I'll give him that. He looks so earnest that I'm soon undressing, then sitting down to snap the harness around my chest and the collar around my neck. As I fit the jingling straps, Rufus walks behind me to sit on the couch.
"I'm not as fluffy as a deer," I say, fitting the snug antlers on my head. "Hope that doesn't break the flow!"
I glance over to see him lounging with his legs spread, slowly stroking himself. "Hm? You're perfectly soft, Rudolph! Fluffier than Comet and Cupid, at least!"
I wriggle my arms into the gloves until the latex reaches my shoulders and the fingertips touch my claws. Then I slide into the heels, wobbling as I try to adjust to the new height.
Rufus continues to watch with encouragement. "That's some class, right there!" He taps a finger against his chin and glances down. "You steady in those? You don't hafta wear 'em if you don't want. They came with the gloves."
I take a couple short steps toward him, testing my footing. The costume feels a little silly.
"Nah," I say, anyway, "they're fly."
"That's good." His eyes narrow over his white-fluffed smirk as he rummages around in one of his pockets. He pulls out a mistletoe prop and shrugs his jacket off onto the armrest, flashing the muscled torso under his suspenders. "'Cause I'll need someone to fly me around!"
~~~
_Mitch reached for the package and tore right through,
And slowly became Santa's prized caribou;
While Rufus grew lustful and made himself slick,
And gestured his deer for a kiss with Saint Nick.
When Rudolph gave in with the tying of tongues,
When warmth grasped his cock, and up that boy sprung;
The deer nose flashed red, though he wasn't allergic,
But kissing this dad was just dopaminergic._
~~~
Rufus dangles the mistletoe over his head like a keychain as I stumble my way over and reach out to the couch for support. As I start to lose balance, he wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in.
My muzzle links between his tusks like a peg sliding in a hole. His eyes soften, and I crawl onto the couch, kneeling over his lap as I kiss his muzzle; it's minty, rather than salty like I expected from a fisherman. As I place my hands on his shoulders and break away from the kiss to sit back on his lap, his erection brushes mine. His eyes twinkle in the distant light of the tree.
"So, ho, ho..." he chuckles, lowering his arm, "what do you want for Christmas?" He eyes me seductively. "Anything...only Santa can give you?"
I glance away, carefully searching for some kind of pun to snark back with. I haven't talked to Santa in twenty-seven years! What do you ask for now--kitchen appliances? When I look back, he's leaning toward me.
"Psst!" Rufus whispers, patting my back. "Most boys say they want my candy cane! So...whaddya say, Rudolph?"
I feel his dick behind me, pushing me to answer in a quick nod. I scooch back on him, dropping to the floor, where I kneel obediently in front of his dick. When I look above it, I catch his goofy grin.
"See? It's your natural habitat!" he calls with glee, rubbing a paw over my head and scratching delicately behind the plastic antlers. In his other paw, he holds the mistletoe prop above his erection. My gaze trails back down to it.
His tip peeks under his foreskin. Shuffling forward, I open my muzzle over it, sliding my tongue against the ridge and sliding it down his glans. I sneak a glance up to see him settle back into the couch while his grip moves to my tail.
"Y'know, I've played with a lotta boys," he continues. "I mean it. You wear the Rudolph costume well."
I slide my tongue over his fat dick, bobbing up and down as he talks.
"That's--oh Lord...that's good, hm? I know I kinda sprung this up on ya. Took you a second to catch on."
My hand clenches around the bottom of his shaft, pinky cupping his jingle bells. I close my eyes, sliding across his length, meeting my hand at the bottom, taking in the warm murmur of his voice and the hum of jazz that suddenly sounds...sentimental to me now.
"It's not just about the blowies, y'know? It's a tradition. I wouldn't make the trip up here if all I got was a mouth on my dick." His thighs tense for a second before he sinks into the couch. "Heh. Well, if I had a muzzle this good every year, maybe I would!"
I trail my tongue back up to the head, flicking it against his tip, then fitting it under the ridge of his glans to poke him there.
His paw drops to my ass, startling my eyes open. "Woah, hold on there, Rudy!" he urges. "I know you said you wanna suck it, but don'tcha also want a load up your butt? Just something to consider. Maybe. If you wanna."
I pop off his dick and try to match that merry, full-toothed grin he put on before. "You're saying you wanna come down my chimney?"
Rufus's questioning look slowly lifts into a smile. As I sit back on the couch, he slides the mistletoe into a pocket in his chaps, reaching into the adjacent hole to pull out a condom and a meager bottle of lube.
"Only got so much magic," he says, delicately tearing open the package, "Santa uses some...alternative methods...for some houses."
He takes care to slicken himself up, carefully working the lube into his length. Then, he offers a paw to me. I carefully step a heel over him as he grabs my back with one paw and slides the other around to my ass. I slump my muzzle into the back cushion and groan when he slips a finger in. There's a fullness to it I always love: a connection while someone else prepares to take me...that, even just thinking about it, makes my cock tingle.
"Your profile said you've got a thing for takin' dick," he presses. "You got much experience?"
It takes me a moment to register a question when he's prodding around my butt. "Hm? Oh, yeah, dude." Then I pause, wondering why he might ask that. "I don't have a boyfriend, though. Most guys...don't like my body."
Rufus's fingers slide out of me and curl around my waist, lifting me off of his shoulder and steadying me back over his lap. He fixes me with a look so disappointed you'd think he found coal in his stocking, disappearing the sudden he follows it up with a determined nod.
"All right, then, Rudolph," he replies, "let's play our own reindeer game."
~~~
_He knew Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Donner,
Yet sucking this dick couldn't be less an honour;
But Santa was set, asking next for his rear,
To stuff that fat cock down his favourite reindeer.
And deer cock grew stiffer in the squeeze of their guts,
With old Saint Nick's fat dick just doggin' some butt;
The deer cried out loud like a soft mating doe,
Preparing to paint them the colour of snow._
~~~
I crouch on Santa's lap under mitted paws, relaxing as I slide over the head of his dick. Jolly eyes soften as he strokes along my scales and helps me down to the base of his shaft. I wince. He's not long, but he sure is fat.
"There we go," he coos, gripping my harness, "I can help push if the sleigh's too big."
I wiggle back and forth, getting a feel for him. "Nah, s'all good," I grunt. To prove it, I slowly work myself up and down the bottom of his length, rubbing my own cock against him.
He takes in a breath like he's about to speak but lets it slowly slip away, probably losing the thought in the sensation. That idea makes me grin as I focus on taking myself with him, rubbing through his fur, riding down his curves like a sled swerving up and down through snowy hills. I lean forward, grunting alongside him, rubbing my cock into his paunch.
"Yeah, it's real good," I pant, "I bet it's better than your wife!"
"My wife?" He snaps, eyes popping open over his glasses. "I'm gay! Mmh--and single!"
I eye him wickedly. "I'll blab that to Mrs. Claus!"
He scoffs and clutches me against him. I fit my muzzle down--awkwardly at first--before he gets the idea and raises his own to meet mine in another weak-kneed, shallow-breathed kiss. I hold the link with Santa's minty tongue as I bounce on his slick peppermint stick, ass slapping his balls at the end of each trust, forcing more urgent, gruff sounds out behind those tusks.
I break away from the kiss to peer down at my dick, foreskin rubbing up and down as I hump into his gut, and watch it throb before I fall against him.
"Ah!" I cry out unabashedly, "Jesus Christ, Santa!"
I shut my eyes tight and hang on, hearing satisfaction in his chuckle. Time slows down, measuring my breaths by each shot I fire at his belly, before my own pumping stops and I lean back to focus on his.
Santa's eyes stay unfocused before they glance down to the mess between us. He drops both paws to my legs while he leans back and stares at my last dribbles of seed.
"Ah, shit," he moans. "Mmh! I was tryna' finish first. That's a good load 'a yours."
I give him my best seductive smile, combing through his shoulder fur with my gloves as I slide against his rubber. His paws grip tightly on my thighs while I bounce on him, just as his breathing reduces to a series of short pants. The longer I ride him, the more his huffs swell into a deep, rumbling baritone groan.
"Oh, Rudolph," he gasps, "you're such a...ho, ho, whore!"
The walrus trembles in orgasm, pressing me into his wet fur as he slides his paws up my sides and fills the condom.
~~~
_And the spent deer rode on with a leverage of weight,
As snow crept up high on this successful date;
Tradition recalls the cushions they coated,
Covered in sweat of the Yule-devoted.
No breakfast to wake for, no leaving for Mass,
The two observed Christmas through a dick in an ass;
One decadent moral, one lesson was learned,
Through roleplay they savoured and friendship they earned._
~~~
His climax drops to its gradual end, leading him to lean back and loosen his paws, staring unfocused behind foggy glasses. He shakes his head quickly, and when he stares back at me, his eyes sharpen again.
"Whew! Started to take control at the end, didn't we? I would say that'd land you on the naughty list, but it seems Santa's all outta--"
I lift his muzzle up and lean forward to kiss him straight in the mouth. As I brush past his fake beard with my chin, he glances towards the discarded mistletoe, lifting his arm before our mouths connect and that paw finds its way to my back instead. I sigh in content and rub his back.
He's soft by the time we break apart, so I crawl off his lap as he slowly peels off the condom. When he stands up to toss it out nearby, he also plucks off his hat.
"Whew!" Rufus pants, fanning himself with the velvet, "it's swelterin' in here!" He pauses as he catches my hesitant look. "Ah, don't worry about lyin' back, Mitch! That couch sees a lot worse each year."
"Oh," I say, sprawling back against the back cushion. "What do you mean by, 'each year'?"
As I watch him clean up at his kitchenette nearby, it occurs to me that his voice dropped the bounciness of his Santa impression. Instead, he frowns, walking back to take a seat beside me. "Vacation. Didn't I tell you that? More guys up here. More guys out, at least."
The meaning's pretty clear in that. "You don't have a partner either?" I ask.
"No! That'd be cheating! Why would I try to--" Rufus stops and reconsiders. "Yeah. I stick to casual flings. Less commitment for everyone, fewer barriers, y'know."
"Hm, yeah." My gaze turns to his tree, bent against the boat's ceiling. "Is that what's up with the Santa thing?"
He looks at me skeptically. "How do you mean?"
I shrug. "Everyone knows Santa. Most guys have holiday fantasies, too. And nostalgia. Easy thing to relate over...make it less awkward."
"Hmph." He leans back and smiles broadly. "And you said you were dumb. My answer was that single guys don't have anyone to cuddle and drink cocoa with, but I'm a bit of an idealist. I also like dressing up." He pats a paw on my shoulder. "But you're right. See how fast you got into the role?"
I nod as my gaze drifts to the blizzard outside the front window.
Rufus's look follows mine. "Mmm. Storm looks bad. Y'know, I normally ask my boys if they wanna stay a while..." he looks back at me, showing the grin behind his tusks. "But I don't think we'll have a choice."
I adjust the antler prop. "You mean we can't deliver gifts tonight?"
His blue eyes shimmer again in the light of the tree. "Ah, I think they can wait a day! Wouldn't want you to break a hoof sliding on an ice patch! Besides, I think we've got a lot more to do tonight!" His gaze flicks down to his seed-matted chest. "Like thinking through a shower alternative..."
With a grunt, he stands. "Urgh. Mind if I pop outside a bit, stretch my calves? We've got a long night ahead of us."
I slide my boots onto the couch and cross my legs. "Long as you grab more carrots."
He winks as he drifts to the door, opening it in nothing but suspenders and chaps. As he ducks out of the boat, I lie back and watch him through the window. Studying his swagger, it crosses my mind how simply he reeled me in. I add to that thought as soon as it pops up: he bought the gift, but I accepted it. I made it work.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and stare through the storm warning on my lock screen. As the screen fades to darkness, I see my reflection, glowing in the light of the tree. The antlers--comically brown over my green head--make me smile as I peer back to Rufus.
A harsh breeze blows snow through the walrus's fur, now glowing in the outer lights. He reaches into the pocket of his chaps and pulls out a small notebook and pen.
~~~
_'Twas I all along, I scribble with a wink,
My reticent visit drew more than a kink!
What soon started tense found brisk enough reason,
Relating through all of the myth of the season._
Amateur poet, trained naught outside prose,
But magic filled me when he kissed my blue nose;
Still here on my sleigh as I merrily write,
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!