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Thad would have liked to be able to say that he never imagined Bart would choose something this weird as his winnings, but lies were, as he’d been reminded, a one-way ticket to the naughty list. And also nobody would have believed him. He’d definitely had something bizarre in mind for if he’d won their big end-of-the-year, winner-take-all bet, after all.
And at first it hadn’t even been that weird. Bart had taken him to a mall—Thad forgot which one, or even what state they were, since it really didn’t matter—and showed him the shopping center’s holiday decorations. Of particular interest to his original had been the sleigh, complete with reindeer (Rudolph included), strung up in the wide open space above the ground floor food court.
“It’s sturdier than it looks,” he’d said, grinning and wagging his eyebrows.
So, fine. Thad could get fucked in a sleigh twenty feet up in the air. That was easy. The B&E and defilement of christmas décor was technically breaking his probation, but a bet was a bet, and Thaddeus Thawne was no coward. No, nothing he had to do tonight was an issue.
What he was wearing, on the other hand...
It amounted to a low-cut red-and-green spandex wrestling singlet, decked out with little silver bells in rows down either side of his chest, and strips of shiny garland around the arm- and leg-holes. Long, candy-striped gloves that went past the elbow. There were a pair of boots too, knee-high and shedding pounds of glitter, but they’d mercifully proven too small for Thad’s feet, and had been swapped out for some red sneakers.
So whereas Bart was a fairly normal—short, thin, beardless (too itchy, apparently) but normal—Santa Claus, Thad was left looking like the north pole’s third-highest-earning hooker.
The sleigh was surprisingly solid, barely shaking at all as they jumped from the third-floor mezzanine. The seat was occupied by an inflatable Saint Nick, who very quickly found himself relocated to one of the tables in front of the Sbarro, which would probably be a fun mystery for when the mall opened back up on the 26th.
Bart took the seat, leaving Thad to stand awkwardly in what little space remained. He looked up, expectant, as Thad groaned internally. Might as well get it over with.
“Santa Baby,” Thad started, with all the musical skill he possessed, which was somewhere between none and fuck all, “I want a yacht and-”
Bart coughed.
Thad glared.
Bart raised an eyebrow.
Thad sighed. “I want a yacht,” he began to sway his hips in a manner he’d be hard-pressed to call ‘in time’, but seemed to satisfy Bart, “and really that’s not a lot.” He leaned down, sticking out his chest in a move that would probably be much more titillating if he’d had a chest to speak of. “Been an angel all year.”
Bart’s eyes left a hot trail up and down Thad’s body, which always made Thad’s stomach go fluttery, so he distracted himself by doing a clumsy little twirl—this was really not a good place to be doing this.
“Santa Baby,” hands grabbed his hips before he could turn back around, pulling him down onto Bart’s lap, where those thin costume pants did nothing to hide the proof that Bart was indeed into the fantasy of Pervy Santa and his Ho Ho Ho.
He’d been cloned from a freak.
But a freak’s clone must be a freak himself, so Thad just pressed down, grinding his ass against Bart’s half-hard cock and eliciting a groan from the both of them.
Thad tossed his head back, feeling Bart’s mouth at the corner of his. There was a hand groping his chest while the other pawed at his cock, which was rapidly stretching out the flimsy singlet.
“So—hhnnnn,” Thad moaned as Bart continued feeling him up, “—hurry down the chimney tonight...”
In the space of an average human’s resting heartbeat, Thad found their positions flipped, Thad on his knees in the seat, looking at the second floor entrance to Dillard’s and Bart pressed down on him from above. At some point during that heartbeat, the back of the singlet had been ripped open, from the ass all the way to one of the arm-holes, leaving him incredibly exposed as the now useless flap of spandex hung off his chest. The bells made rhythmic little jingling noises as Bart roughly worked him open.
The lube smelled strongly of peppermint. Of course.
Sex between them was never gentle, the two of them too energetic and impatient for slow and sweet, but Bart was in a festive mood tonight, and his pace reflected it. He drove his cock into Thad so forcefully that the cables holding the sleigh aloft began to creak.
Thad could only clutch at the back of the sleigh, as Bart speared his prostate what seemed like a hundred times a second. No teasing or games, Bart was chasing their orgasms like they owed him money.
The sleigh was rocking back and forth now, and there was a clacking sound that it took Thad a few moments to realize was the reindeer swinging into one another. Probably not great, but the next salvo from Bart banished the worry from his brain.
There was a finger at his lips, and Thad opened up to welcome it. It tasted like peppermint. He briefly considered reaching down to stroke himself, but there was no point to it. Bart seemed determined to get him off himself, and besides that, Thad’s cock was just about the only part of him still covered by the spandex, and trying to free it was just too much bother when he felt this good.
It was there, right on the edge of a very promising orgasm, that the first cable snapped.
Thad and Bart let out identical yelps as the sleigh jerked suddenly to the left. The force did them no favors, and two more cables broke in succession. Bart pulled Thad back against his chest, ceasing all motion and trying to steady them, but it was too late, Santa’s sleigh was off course, and there was no righting it.
A reindeer went flying over their heads as the sleigh swung wildly through the air. Two more simply dropped, one of them bouncing off the side of a Dippin’ Dots kiosk before smashing into a thousand pieces on the floor.
The sleigh, now held by a single cable, swung up like a pendulum. Bart swore, and his cock slid out of Thad’s ass, which was a wild sensation under the circumstances. The last cable finally gave up, the sleigh flying for real for the first and last time. They cleared the railing of the third floor walkway, now hurtling towards the dimly lit window of a Banana Republic, the mannequins calmly accepting their impending fate.
Thad and Bart looked at each other, one wearing only a Santa Claus coat, and the other the tattered remnants of an unspeakably tacky sexy elf costume. They shared the nod of two people who knew they would never hear the end of it if they managed to get hurt like this, and bailed out.
They were on the other side of the wide expanse overlooking the food court by the time the sleigh crashed through the window, setting off alarm bells and a flashing red emergency light.
Thad looked out over the railing. It was carnage. A large Christmas tree had been knocked over directly onto the shuttered storefront of a Jamba Juice, littering the floor with plastic ornaments and fake pine needles. The were multiple overturned tables, knocked to and fro by loose cables and falling reindeer. Poor Rudolph had met his demise halfway down the escalator, his red nose flickering a few times before calling it quits. Most tragic of all, Inflatable Santa had taken shrapnel, and now sagged limply out of his seat before the pizza place.
“Well,” Bart said thoughtfully, gazing down at the chaos, “that’s just shoddy construction, is what that is.”
Thad hummed in agreement. “It’s what they get for commercializing the holidays, when you think about it.”
Bart nodded solemnly. “Totally. Just another failure of capitalistic excess.” He eyed the flashing light across the gap. “Anyway, I figure we’ve got at least ten minutes before the cops show, and I don’t know about you, but I didn’t finish, so…?” He flashed Thad a lewd smile.
“God, I thought you’d never ask.” Thad breathed a sigh of relief and bent over the railing.
It’s well known that Christmas only comes once a year. It turns out that a pair of speedsters, high on adrenaline and property damage, can easily manage six or seven before they need to start running.