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"Alex, love, you're supposed to put the decorations on the tree, not me," Henry whines while getting suffocated by another piece of scratchy tinsel.
"Oh, come on, get into the spirit of things!" Alex straightens the light-up antlers on the blond head, almost knocking off the baubles that dangle on Henry's ears. "You look like the prettiest Santa's helper."
The next sharp retort is about to bounce back at Alex, when he leans in and smooshes their lips together. The kiss is slow and almost unbearably sweet, but it still leaves both men panting. It never gets old, even years after that first taste under the linden tree.
Alex uses that dizziness to pulls Henry's hands out of the way and wrap another stripe of tinsel around his waist.
"You just wait until I get my revenge. You won't even know it's coming and then," Henry mimics an explosion, "confetti and glitter everywhere," he lowers his voice, "even in your arsecrack."
"Hey," Alex feigns getting offended, "that's unnecessarily cruel. It will totally put you on the naughty list."
"Oh, I'm sure we're both already there."
The next day they're finishing the decorations, tying the garlands to the railings and putting up the stockings. Soft Christmas tunes fill the air, creating the perfect backdrop for gentle hugs and cuddles that take ten times as long as the decorations themselves. It's perfect, an idealistic image of the season, cheerful warmth spreading in the chest. Merry and bright for real.
It's soft and sweet and for a second Henry freezes in place, not daring to disrupt the mood. But he has a plan for the evening, a fun one at that, the thrilling mental image tugging the corners of his lips into a smirk.
The very second the last shiny snowflake is secured, Henry sharply tugs Alex by the arm and starts tearing the sweater off of his body. He lets out a high squeal, but, catching up with the programming, obediently raises his arms.
Henry leans out of the way of Alex's hands, casually avoiding the contact, keeping the perfectly styled hair and cute outfit on, while Alex is hot and bothered, panting like a dog chasing a ball. The contrast makes his head spin, his thoughts fogging up.
Henry's nails rake down Alex's chest as he commands
"Bedroom in twenty minutes. I want you on the bed, ready. Don't you dare touch yourself more than strictly necessary. Color?"
"Green, like the fucking Christmas tree," Alex shouts, already half way to the second floor, taking steps two at a time.
Henry walks into the bedroom like a God of debauchery incarnate. He's left the Christmas dog sweater downstairs, black jeans fit him like a glove, accentuating the thick thighs and perky butt. He knows he looks good, but the image of almost drooling absolutely smitten Alex is an additional proof. Henry settles on the edge of the bed, gliding his hands over the smooth planes of tan skin, tracing every delicious inch of toned muscle. Alex takes good care of his body, but not in the 'counting every calorie and no, I can't have dessert' type of way. He's consistent with his gym workouts, an active runner and enjoyer of long hikes. His love for sports is infectious and it definitely rubs off on Henry. For quite a bit after moving into the brownstone, he quit exercising all together, gained quite a bit of weight as a result. But he knows it was for the best, he looks healthier than ever before and Alex is obsessed with his curves. It's a win-win situation really.
A glittery Santa's hat is askew on his head as he picks up the box he's left on the floor. It's your ordinary gift box, green, covered in mismatched candy canes and festive ribbons. In other setting it would be a nice cute box, nothing more. Here though, combined with the "I'll fucking destroy you" look it makes Alex's skin tingle.
"Is it a present for me, Mr. Claus?" Alex raises an eyebrow.
"It depends. Will you be a good boy?"
Alex can't fully stifle a whimper as he pushes out a shaky "Yes", throwing his head back.
Henry's finger touches the tip of Alex's nose, moves torturously slowly down to the top lip, grazes the smoothly shaven jawline, teases the nipples on the way down, lower and lower, until-
"Fucking hell!" Alex yelps the moment Henry takes his hand away and steps back from the bed, a mere torturous inch from touching him where it mattered.
"Behave, Alex," Henry reprimands with a flirty lilt to his tone. "I'm not done yet. Up!"
And Alex stands on his shaking jelly-like legs, forcing his body upright despite the protests from his quivering thighs. He doesn’t have the luxury of basking in the tingly sensation as Henry finally slips the lid of the box off. He holds it out of reach and Alex knows better than to try and peek. His eyes shoot wide open when the item turns out to be not a sex toy or a usual coil of smooth rope. Instead it’s a surprisingly long stripe of tinsel, bright red, shining as the holographic particles shift colors, slithering through Henry’s loose fist. Alex’s skin breaks out in goosebumps at the memory of his husband squirming under the tickly bristles, imagining the sensation on his own flesh.
The second the tinsel makes contact with his chest, barely an inch above the nipple, Alex flinches, instinctively stepping back.
Henry shakes his head in disappointment, clicking his tongue. Alex shivers.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Alex answers with a silent step forward, towards the cruel teasing.
The tickling’s back. This time he doesn’t dare move.
“I just want to play with my present,” Henry shrugs, feigning innocence, as he continues to slowly torture Alex. “Don’t you think I deserve that?”
Alex eagerly nods, feels his muscles involuntarily contract when the tip of the festive torture device glides along.
“Remember your safewords, love?” All the teasing stops for a moment. Alex takes a deep breath and lowers his head in submission.
“Red means stop, but just stop works too. Green is for good to go and yellow is pause and renegotiate.”
“Good. What’s it now?”
“Green,” Alex half-whispers, slowly sinking in.
“Don’t move.” The words tickle his cupid’s bow with warm breath as Henry leans in. Alex licks his lips, engaging all of his will not to lick Henry’s instead. He can be good. He will.
Henry slings the tinsel over Alex’s head, loosely tying it around the neck. The next knot falls under the nipples, the scratchy material right against the sensitive nubs. Oh, it’s going to go from fun to unbearable real fast. Henry’s good with his knots, years of sailing obsession finally paying off. Even with the weirdly uncooperative “rope”. Alex is obsessed.
Another loop is laid over the taut ab muscles, and one more under the butt. That one’s the worst, on the hair-thin line between too much and not enough. The final touch is a firmer tie over the thigh, too close to where it would’ve mattered, holding the end of the strand.
“So pretty already, and I haven’t even decorated my most anticipated little present yet”, Henry smiles, self-indulgently smearing precum all over Alex’s cock with a dry fingertip.
“Little?! You just wait until i can move and I'll fucking show you little!” Alex attacks him.
The very same moment he yelps, having earned himself a sharp slap on the thigh. The resulting jolt makes tinsel rub and tickle each point of contact, turning the shocked yelp into an almost questioning moan. It’s good. A bit strange and hard to conceptualize, but definitely good. Henry wipes his fingers on the heated patch.
“Before you go on being an insatiable brat, let me remind you of the main rule of the season. Good boys get treats, bad ones get punished.”
“Oh,” a pause. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“No need to be sorry, pet. Just do better.” Alex nods. Henry smirks.
“Lay down now. Arms up. Careful.”
In approximately one second he’s obediently laid out, despite all kinds of challenges his new attire causes in the process. He wants to be good, alright.
The next item that emerges from the box leaves him breathless. Handcuffs. Alex’s cock twitches, definitely taking interest in that. They’re both heavily into restraints and probably own way more than an average, moderately kinky couple may need. But these ones are new.
“Color?” Henry checks.
“Green, sir.”
The handcuffs in Henry’s fingers light up, rapidly changing colors.
“It’s the least Henry Fox item I’ve ever seen,” Alex chuckles.
Henry laughs in response, allowing the involuntary break of the scene.
“That’s why they are for you, love, not me.”
Alex shakes his head in amused disbelief, smile never leaving his lips. Well, that’s until a sharp slap on his thigh, right on top of the previous one. It’s more sound than sting, but it snaps Alex back into the scene in a blink of an eye, his mouth snapping shut.
The hands are secured to the headboards at last, Henry checks the position before teasing the open palms with his fingertips. Both hands move lower, skim over the forearms, lightly press on the sides of the neck, work their way along the collarbones, lower and lower, playing with the nipples, dipping in the navel. Ten fingertips lay heavily on the lower stomach before harshly pushing in and disappearing completely. The next second two palms come down hard onto the tops of the thighs. Alex screams and thrashes on the bed, making his miserable state even worse with the renewed scratch of the tinsel all over the already irritated skin. Henry allows him to settle and with a wicked grin leans over the prostrate body in front of him and slowly blows on the wet tip of Alex’s leaking cock. The man shivers. The bristles touch the nipples again. A long desperate moan fills the room. Henry repeats the ritual a few times before taking off the hat and pushing himself up the bed, closer to his husband’s face. Alex is breathing heavily, his gaze unfocused, when Henry whispers in his ear:
“How are we feeling about some marks?”
The words spread like hot honey down his spine, an incandescent weight settling just below the navel.
“Yes, yes, sir, please. Green.”
“You can be so good when you put some effort into it,” Henry teases, gently caressing the curls. The mixed signals make Alex lightheaded, but the next sentence just about kills him. “My good boy,” Henry delivers the final blow, intentionally exaggerating his rich round accent.
Alex melts into the bed, closes his eyes with a drawn-out groan, as Henry’s teeth sink into his neck. On the third hickey Alex’s quiet murmurs become soft whimpers, on the tenth- low grunts, on the fifteenth- a single endless moan. He watches Henry pull another bit of soft skin on the inside of his thigh into his mouth, grasp it tightly with his teeth before pulling back, stretching the strained flesh and abruptly letting go, leaving an instantly blooming mark behind. He must glow like a fucking Christmas tree, neat rows of bright marks along each pass of the tinsel, a pretty garland on the warm skin.
Alex’s brain is fuzzy, his sober consciousness slipping up, leaving more space for the lust induced fog, hot and desperate burn behind the eyelids. The self-control is long forgotten, loud unadulterated mewls and wails filling up the space.
The newest row of fresh blooms is soothed by Henry’s fingers. As he leans in for the last spot, his nose brushes against Alex’s balls and he thrashes up.
"Don't fucking squirm! You're ruining the pattern!" Henry scolds, pointedly pushing Alex's hips harder into the mattress. With an exasperated sigh, he obeys. Henry carefully straightens the tinsel quite a bit more thoroughly than necessary, keeping Alex still with a stern look.
Once he's satisfied with the placement, Henry ruffles the tinsel accompanied by a shrill screech.
"Your Jingle Bells is terribly off key, love."
Alex tries not to laugh at that, not willing to inflict another blow to his poor thigh. But the brat in him never rests, so the moment Henry's palm squeezes his balls Alex makes it his primary objective to moan to the tune of Jingle Bells to the best of his horny brain's ability. It takes Henry by surprise, Alex can tell. But the acting skill must be in his DNA, judging by the way he gets his expression back to vaguely amused in seconds.
Alex does get punished for his little stunt though. On the next squeeze Henry pinches the tender skin and slowly but surely pulls it towards himself. Alex screams.
"Ooph, that note was terrible, darling. Let's try again."
On the fifth try Alex feels hot tears on his cheeks, his pained mewls even further from the desired melody.
"Please, sir," he sobs, "please, enough. I'll be good now, I swear."
"Of course you will, Alex. You'll be so good for me." He soothes his overstimulated husband with languid caresses on his curls, slowly untangling the wildest ones and pushing them behind the ears. Alex exhales, eyes slipping shut, drifting in the exquisite agony of tingly sensation.
After a whispered colorcheck he's ready for more, preferably if that more is leading to an orgasm. That would be very helpful right now.
Henry finally steps away from the bed and removes the rest of his clothes. Alex is shaking, vibrating out of his skin on the sweaty sheets. Henry smirks and takes his own dick in hand. He's slow and deliberate, teasing, cocky. It makes Alex's mouth water. He likes Henry soft and pliant, a whimpering mess in his arms; he loves Henry rigid and in control, confident with a self assured smile. But Henry like this- dark fire dancing in his eyes, raw passion, an absolute chilling unstoppable force- is a dream. Alex's breath hitches as Henry holds his palm up, wet and slick with precum.
"See something you like, darling?" Henry raises an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir, please. Please let me- I'll be good, I promise, please."
Henry chuckles. Alex shivers.
"As much as I like your begging, sweet boy, this is not for you today,” Henry declares before making a show of licking his own hand, languidly sucking on the fingertips.
Alex whines and, damn, he's crying again. Before Henry can get worried, slipping out of the role, Alex shakes his head.
"Green, green. It's overwhelming, but I’m good, I swear."
Henry whispers “My good boy” that makes Alex's insides twist and his dick twitch, leaking even more onto the sticky skin. He swears and immediately stills under Henry's reprimanding look. A second later comes a sharp slap onto the thigh, directly over the previous ones. It'll sting like hell in the tight jeans tomorrow. Totally worth it.
Henry towers over Alex and he feels so incredibly small and vulnerable, but there's not a bit of fear or uneasiness. If there's someone Alex can trust with his life, that's Henry, no doubt. His ultimate comfort person. Even when he's about to absolutely wreck him.
Henry keeps steadily stroking his cock, watching Alex at all times.
"Do you think you're on a naughty or nice list?” he asks in the most casual tone. “Have you been a good boy, Alex?”
And Alex starts pleading again, losing his mind, but Henry doesn't let him squeeze in a full word.
"Only good obedient boys get presents, Alex. Do you think you deserve yours?"
He nods so fast his neck might snap.
"Right, sweets, so good. Happy Christmas."
Henry's cum splatters over Alex's still rock hard dick and gets caught in the hairs on his thighs, slowly trickles into his belly button and sits on top of the tinsel, like a deranged version of snowflakes.
Alex closes his eyes, exasperated. It takes less than a minute of Henry's hot wet palm before Alex's cum joins the picture. The image is obscene, a scene of festive debauchery on wet sheets.
And Henry fucking laughs and doesn't make a move to untie Alex. But his gaze minutely goes darker, then timid and unsure as he whispers
"Alex. I have an idea and you can totally say no, okay." Alex watches the shift in mood, dumbfounded. "Can I take a picture? You look... wow"
Alex weakly nods, but knowing it won't suffice, adds
"Yes, green," and as Henry raises the camera to his face, sticks out his tongue.
Henry carefully lays three polaroids on the bedside table and opens the handcuffs. Alex grunts as the feeling comes back to the sore muscles. But the moment Henry starts untangling the ends of the tinsel he shouts and whines, twisting his body away.
“What happened darling? Are you hurt?”
“No but you will be if you keep that up!” Henry smiles. ”I’m sore like all hell and sensitive everywhere and you decide to do this now?”
“You need a shower, love,” Henry talks slowly as if bargaining with an petulant child on the toy isle floor.
Alex pouts, playing with the puddle of cum on his stomach, furrowing his eyebrows as he smears the mess even more.
“And remind me, please, whose fault is that?”
“Stop being a brat,” Henry chides halfheartedly, slowly lowering himself onto the wet patch on his side of the bed. “Alright. We’ll cuddle in this disgusting mixture of sweat, come and spit for a bit. But then we’re both taking a bath.”
“Deal!" Alex’s legs are already wrapped around Henry, never beating the clingy boyfriend allegations. Even if they’re officially married for a few years.
A few hours later Henry is slowly carding his fingers through the still damp curls, as Alex sleepily mutters
"I will need a whole week to process that."
Henry smiles down at him, not a drop of the dangerous darkness left in the calm blue of his eyes.
"Was it good though? Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Fuck yeah, I did. You were so hot, so in control, all dark and dangerous..." his voice turns dreamy and soft, but then a memory strikes.
"But Jingle Bells? Be so fucking for real right now. Did you really get off on me screeching off key?"
Henry chuckles.
"Of course I did, are you kidding me? You were so helpless and desperate, begging so beautifully. My good boy." The hand moves down, barely touching hot tender skin, and then suddenly groping his ass.
"No, no, no," Alex jumps up, hastily detangling himself from Henry. "Not happening."
Henry's loud laugh bounces off the walls, filling up the whole room. And to know that he hadn't laughed like this for years before meeting Alex... Warmth spreads in his chest, burning from inside out, throbbing with affection, making it hard to breathe.
Might be his hellishly sore nipples though.
Either way, Alex is so in love he could die.