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Unlike most people, Marius doesn’t loathe the mall during the Christmas season. He doesn’t celebrate Christmas for Christian reasons, but he can admit he does enjoy the holiday for aesthetic reasons. In particular, he enjoys partaking in the tradition of gift giving. He loves shopping in person and being able to inspect the items and ensure it was something worth attaching his name to. The twinkling lights all around the city also enchant him, one year he even carved an ice sculpture for his ex-wife’s work Christmas party.
He doesn't even mind the hustle and bustle of last minute shoppers. Perhaps it was because his mall was more upscale than most, he could sit by the indoor fountain and eat between rounds of shopping, people watching. Sometimes a woman would do a double take at him and he’d wink at her, causing her to blush his favorite shade- a lovely, rosy red.
It was why when the manager of the mall approached him about painting a mural for the entrance, he could hardly decline. He was allowed to work a few hours before the mall opened, before all the people came tumbling inside, though sometimes he would get lost in the brushstrokes and he’d find a small crowd gathered behind him when he was finally finished and turned to gather his belongings.
Today he finishes on time, almost done for the big Christmas unveiling, but when he turns around, he finds only Bianca, the beautiful mall manager, behind him. Her skin is pale like the fresh snow outside, hair blonde as the honey in the cup of coffee she’s holding. She offers the drink to him, and he takes it with an appreciative smile. He lets it warm his hands for a moment before taking a sip. She begins to speak while his mouth is preoccupied.
“The mural is coming along beautifully, Marius.”
“I hoped you never doubted it would.”
She laughs, a noise he so loves to hear. “But of course,” her demeanor quickly sobers, light eyebrows furrowing pensively.
“What troubles you, my darling?” He asks, causing her cheeks to blush. He knows Bianca has a soft spot for him, just as he has one for her.
“There is something I would ask of you, something I would only ask if I were truly desperate.”
“And are you desperate?” It comes out more heated than he intended. Her pupils dilate slightly before she nods. “Ask and it shall be yours.”
“You’re too kind, Marius.”
“I mean it. There is little I would deny you, surely you know that by now.”
“Do you have any plans for the rest of your day?”
“I was going to go home and finish wrapping the rest of my presents, but other than that, my calendar is wide open.”
“Would you stay? Our Santa-”
“Santa?”
“Our Santa is sick, he can’t come today, but it would devastate the children if there was no Santa today. It’s so close to Christmas, there’s hardly any time to reschedule on such short notice.” Then she shocks him even further by reaching out boldly, twirling some of the white hair that had fallen out of his ponytail while he worked. “Please, Marius,” her gray-blue eyes go round, expression pleading. “I even hand washed the beard.”
The red velvet suit makes him uncomfortably warm under all the lights surrounding his chair. It’s slightly itchy due to its cheap fabric, and a little too big because he doesn’t have the necessary stomach to fill it out properly. However, when Bianca laid eyes on him in the full suit after exiting the men’s bathroom, her face beaming with pride (and only a little amusement at his expense) he found himself reluctantly excited for the day ahead, optimistic that he could help spread joy during the holiday season.
He could do without the beard, though. (It had been a shock to his system when he realized the snow white beard was almost the exact same color as his own hair curling around his shoulders.)
A tall young man with ashen hair covered by an elf hat mans the camera. Another young elf, a boy with olive skin and dark curls, kindly ushers the children forward. It warms his heart the way the children’s eyes light up when they see him. And because he speaks multiple languages he’s always prepared for whatever may come out of their mouth. The boys in their little bow ties and the girls with their glittery taffeta skirts all pour their hearts out to him, asking for everything from ponies to game stations to dolls to trains, and he promises each and every one of them he’ll do his best.
Bianca thanks him profusely on his lunch break, bringing him a fresh sandwich, salad, and soup from the Cheesecake Factory as compensation. “We need to work on getting you that belly,” she teases. He gives her a withering look as he bites into the sandwich.
When his lunch break ends he has three more hours to go. He tries not to think about how the sandwich slightly rounded his already soft stomach even further. Think of the children, Marius.
His dark haired elf ushers forward two boys and suddenly his thoughts are decidedly less than saintly. One pale with dark curls, no older than twelve- but it’s the other, a boy with the most perfectly formed auburn curls surrounding his wind chafed cherub cheeks, that is beginning to thaw some dormant desire within him. His age is harder to gauge, a harder look in his brown sensuous eyes that seems wise beyond his years. Was he fifteen? Seventeen? After five p.m. the mall requires a guardian for anyone under the age of eighteen, but Marius doesn't see an adult around that seems to be concerned with them. It makes him feel less guilty at the way his lust flares just looking at the young man.
He hasn’t been intimate with anyone since the divorce went through earlier this year. It’s not for lack of willing participants, but lack of passion on his end. It had been lost to him since Pandora left, but now it seems he has found it again. Like a tiny present recovered after being hidden under the tree. One he wants to tear into, desperately, despite all logic and reason.
A Christmas miracle, indeed.
The lovely auburn haired child squeezes the younger boy’s hand and gestures for him to come to Marius, but the boy refuses to let go, seemingly wanting his… friend? brother? (they don’t look related) to come see Santa with him. The dark haired elf wraps an encouraging arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders, gently peeling him away from the older boy, and they tentatively approach Marius.
“Hello young man,” Marius greets warmly. He reaches out and guides the child to sit on his knee, he weighs almost nothing, all bones, this one. “What’s your name?”
“Denis,” the boy answers, meek as a mouse.
“Denis,” Marius repeats, chancing a glance back at the other child, who’s standing by the photographer now behind the camera. The violet eyed elf is clearly affected by his almost ethereal beauty being illuminated under all the lights, Marius can tell by the way he fidgets next to him, cheeks gone red as the hat he’s wearing. Marius refrains from rolling his eyes. “Have you been a good boy this year?”
The boy's dark eyes widen and he nods quickly. “Yes, Santa,” sugar plum voice coated in seriousness.
“Good, that’s very good to hear. Now tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”
The child thinks for a moment. “A kitten!” Denis says delightedly.
He reaches up with a gloved hand and softly pinches the boy’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re not a little kitten already?”
“Meow,” the boy giggles.
Marius’ eyes flicker towards the other boy, who’s eyeing them intently, ignoring the way the photographer next to him blushes and fiddles with the camera.
“Is that your brother, Denis?”
“Yes! He made sure I got to see you today. I write you letters every year but I’ve never gotten to meet you before, so Armand made sure I got to meet you today.” And to think there was almost no Santa for this boy today.
“Well, you’re very high on my Nice List, Denis, it’s an honor to meet you too.”
The boy looks absolutely touched by his words, throwing his arms around Marius and squeezing him tightly. Marius pats the boys back, letting him take what he so clearly needs.
“Say cheese!” The blond elf yells at them. Denis turns and flashes a brilliant smile at the camera. The boy, Armand, is looking at them both with undisguised fondness. Marius resents the way the camera flashes temporarily obscures his vision, making him lose what little time he has left to memorize the harmonious and pleasing features of the boy’s face.
Denis stands, but before he can bounce away, Marius grabs his wrist, and says, “Wait- you almost forgot this, sweet boy,” and reaches down to grab a candy cane from the bucket next to his chair. Denis takes it with a polite, thank you, Santa. “And one more thing, before you go. Armand, he sounds like a good brother,” Denis nods enthusiastically. “Would he like to come say hi to Santa too?”
Denis’ face lights up, and he excitedly waves his brother over. Armand looks apprehensive as he cautiously takes a step forward.
“Your brother tells me you arranged this meeting.” Armand shrugs. “That’s a very kind thing for you to do for your brother. Why don’t you sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what he can do for you this Christmas.”
“I’m too old for Santa,” but his face betrays him by flushing just a little.
“Nonsense, come sit on my lap.” Marius says, patting his thigh as Denis pushes his brother towards him. “Denis, why don’t you go wait by that nice elf over there while your picture prints. I think your brother is embarrassed to be seen talking to Santa at his age.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Armand scoffs as Denis hurries off.
The boy is a pleasant weight when he slides into Marius’ lap. It’s not just because he’s older, he has some meat on his bones. Marius’ arm wraps around his back, one gloved hand squeezing at his full waist through his burgundy sweater, the other covertly resting on the outside of his denim clad thigh, hidden between their bodies.
Even the smallest touch of this child soothes his aching soul. He misses snuggling by the fire after cooking Christmas dinner together. Pandora used to hang a mistletoe in the doorway of each room. Her excessive affection annoyed him at the time, but what he wouldn’t give for that affection now.
This boy is the most beautiful creature he’s seen in a while. It’s as if he’s fallen right out of a Botticelli painting and tumbled straight into Marius’ lap. Oh, how he’d like to tie a bow on him just to unwrap it with his teeth.
There’s hardly a line now, Marius can see the fleeing sun through the windows on the high ceiling. He wants to savor the weight of this boy in his lap, the feeling of his plump ass against his thigh, the way he can see little flecks of gold in his dark eyes when he’s this close, counting the freckles that adorn his cheeks like chocolate shavings in cocoa.
“Tell me Armand, have you been a good boy this year?” He tries to keep his voice neutral.
Armand thinks for a moment, eyes flitting back and forth, examining his icy blue ones. “No,” he confesses softly. The boy’s honesty startles Marius for a moment. No child tonight has answered anything other than a resounding “yes.”
“Hm, but it was a very kind thing you did for your brother. Tell Santa what you want for Christmas, and I’ll do my best to give it to you,” Marius says in a low voice, breath ghosting over the boy’s ruddy apple cheeks, hands tightening covetously on his waist. It’s like he’s being intoxicated by the boy's presence, mindlessly stroking the outside of his thigh.
A spark of mischief suddenly lights in the boy’s eyes. He tilts his head, his breath smells like peppermint, button nose almost touching Marius’ own Roman nose.
“I want a daddy who will fuck me nice and hard,” he whispers.
It’s bold, and leaves Marius breathless.
Large unblinking eyes stare at Marius brazenly, but Marius can feel a tremble run through the boy. The longer the silence stretches the more pleased the boy looks, until finally batting his long, dark lashes. Marius can’t help the way his hand flexes on his hip, wanting to dig his nails into the tender flesh and leave angry red marks in his wake as punishment for this bit of cheek. And in public of all places! The leather of his gloves (and yes they are his gloves he wore to work today) creak as Marius continues to despair at the amount of layers separating them.
“Say cheese!” The photographer calls, pulling him out of his thoughts, but the boy does not avert his challenging gaze.
“Be a good boy and look at the camera,” Marius says softly so only Armand can hear.
“Or what?” He smiles sweetly.
“Or Santa won’t give you what you want.”
“Uh, guys?” The photographer calls again, and this time they both turn, but as he does Armand suddenly throws an arm around Marius’ shoulder and presses his warm, blushing cheek against the sliver of Marius’ skin showing above the fake beard.
The camera flashes, his vision goes white hot. The hand between their bodies comes and grabs the boy’s bony knee, and gives it a hard squeeze.
Armand shifts in his lap, a little gasp escaping. Despite how much he doesn't want to, he reaches down and grabs a candy cane for Armand before he does something truly stupid in public. “Merry Christmas, Armand.”
“Thank you, Santa. I’ll be looking forward to my present.” Then he slides the bow off the candy cane and sucks it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he slides it out of his mouth as he slowly makes his way to stand and join his brother by the picture stand.
The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. Not many more children visit, but he tries his best to pay attention to the ones who do. Anything to take his mind off of Armand, and the way his lips looked wrapped around the candy cane.
It’s stupid, so stupid, he doesn't even know the boy's age. Would it matter? Wouldn’t you make an exception for such a beautiful boy? You would. Oh, he would. But no matter, it was merely harmless flirting with an absolutely insolent boy. Nothing more, no matter how much he wishes it were.
After the last child, he feels himself practically crawling out of his skin to get this godforsaken beard off. But he can’t until he’s in the safety of the men’s room. Wouldn’t want to scar the children, after all. (Well, perhaps one.)
The mall is quiet this close to closing, the men’s room completely empty as he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. He’d never given much thought to his age, but surely he wasn’t old enough to make that convincing of a Santa, was he? It’s a relief when he finally removes the beard. Behind him, he hears the door to the men’s room open and shut.
And lock.
He turns to investigate, and there, in all his petit glory, is Armand, pressed against the bathroom door with his hands behind his back, a picture of angelic innocence if not for the clear hunger in his eyes.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“I came to get my present,” Armand replies breezily before pushing off the door and approaching him.
Marius knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can’t help but ask, “Where’s your brother?”
“I took him home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Our foster home.”
“Our?”
Armand rolls his eyes. “I technically aged out this year, but they let me stay for Denis. They like me.” He moves in closer. “But that doesn’t matter, you would give me my present even if I wasn’t legal, wouldn’t you?”
Marius doesn’t say anything, too stunned by this brazen, bratty child. Not a child. No matter how cherubic he appears to be. It does occur to Marius that he might be lying, but the boy is right, it doesn’t really matter anyway.
Armand hops up on the counter, his legs falling open, and Marius gravitates between them, helpless as the moon. He brings a gloved hand to the boy's cheek, smoothing over the pale, milky skin. When he gets to his lips, the boy nips at the leather. Marius pulls his hand back and hurriedly removes both gloves, before grabbing the boy’s face more forcefully, finally feeling the delicious softness of his skin against his own.
He examines every inch of his face because he can, because he wants to eventually commit to canvas if he can, it's a face that deserves to be preserved. He pushes his upper lip up, thumbing over the little teeth, before making his way to the lower lip, and pressing his thumb to his tongue, making him open wide.
Marius spits in his open, waiting mouth. The boy shudders, closing his eyes and taking it like holy communion.
When he opens his eyes again Marius can wait no longer, finally crushing their mouths together. The boy tastes like a candy cane, his body just as small and breakable against him, his little fingers dancing across the red velvet covering his back. His own body sweltering inside the suit, he moves down to undo the belt at his waist, revealing his bare chest as Armand helps push the coat from his shoulders and onto the dirty bathroom floor. He then returns the favor by ridding Armand of his own sweater, setting it beside them on the sink in a gentlemanly fashion.
He then reaches behind Armand and grips his ass, dragging him closer with a grunt. The outline of his cock through the pants is much larger than the boy’s as he slides them together. As he watches them grind against each other, he can see there’s a wet patch in the front of his jeans.
A groan escapes him. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Are you a virgin?” he asks, voice rougher than he cares to admit, nipping at the boy’s neck.
Armand whimpers, shaking his head.
Marius would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed, but he’s not surprised. He can’t imagine anyone would pick a mall Santa for their very first time having sex.
“Please, you promised,” he whines, hands running over the fine dusting of hair covering Marius’ chest.
“Did I? And what exactly was it you asked for again? Tell me, darling,” he says as he bends down to circle one pink nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around it while his fingers toy with the other. The boy arches into his touch as he plays with his chest, panting hard above him. So sensitive, his boy.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Who do you want to fuck you?”
“Daddy!” the boy gasps out as Marius down on his nipple.
“Good boy, and how do you want Daddy to fuck you? What did you tell Santa? Remind me.”
“H-hard and fast.”
It’s in this moment, as he’s undoing the boy's jeans, that he realizes he doesn’t have any form of lubricant on him. He could use the soap, he knows Bianca gets the nice moisturizing kind that leaves him feeling clean and soft when he goes to wash the paint off his hands. Still, he feels bad for the poor child. But not bad enough not to give him what he wants.
“I will, but it might hurt, I have nothing to prepare you with, my love.”
Armand just smiles at him, pushing him back so he can hop down from the counter. He leaves kisses on Marius’ chest as he pushes his own jeans down around his ankles, revealing the lack of underwear, the naughty little boy. He takes one of the suspenders attached to the Santa pants and pulls Marius in for one last heated and sloppy kiss before turning and bending over the sink counter, eyeing Marius in the bathroom mirror.
He slowly takes his own hands and spreads his cheeks apart, revealing a glistening and shiny hole, clearly already loosened by his own fingers earlier in the evening.
Marius gasps, wasting no time pulling his cock overtop of his pants, teasing the petal rim with his own weeping cock, smearing precum around it before pressing in slowly. Just like he fantasized about earlier while the boy was on his lap, he digs his neatly trimmed fingernails into the soft skin of his hips as he sinks his cock inside. His eyes flit between watching the boy’s tight little hole swallow his thick length, and watching as Armand’s cupid lips fall open in ecstasy, doe eyes brimming with tears in the mirror at the fullness.
Once he’s fully seated, he slides his longer fingers into the auburn curls, gripping them tightly as he begins to fuck into Armand’s hot little body.
“Do you know how naughty you were, teasing me like that in public earlier? I should deny you this gift,” Marius hisses.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whimpers pathetically beneath him, big brown eyes glassy with a dizzying lust.
Marius uses the hand that was in his hair to smack his ass, pulling a loud moan from the child. “Don’t lie to me. No you’re not.”
Smack!
“Say it.”
Smack.
“I’m not,” he whispers.
Another smack.
“Louder, I want the nice men waiting to use the restroom to know what a greedy, insatiable little thing you are.”
Armand’s eyes widen in fear, but Marius can feel the way he tightens around him.
“Oh, you like that don’t you? You want them to hear you? Shall I go unlock the door so they can come watch you as well?”
The boy pushes back helplessly against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts.
Marius drapes his larger body over him, dragging a hand over his burning ass before bringing one of the boys hands up so they can tangle their fingers together like they were proper lovers. Maybe they could be, a treacherous part of Marius’ brain whispers. He’s still inside the boy yet he’s already imagining when he can do this again.
“Maybe I’d even let them have a turn as well… no, I’m far too jealous to share you, cherub,” he kisses against the boy's sweat damp cheek. “Now, give me a present and come on my cock, angel.” He sinks a bruising bite into the fair skin of his neck.
It’s music to his ears as the boy cries and shudders beneath him, he watches, satisfied, as the orgasm wracks his body, hole clenching and fluttering around him. He can hear the way his ejacluate splatters onto the floor beneath them.
“Good boy. Such a good boy for Daddy,” he sighs as he picks up the pace, mercilessly thrusting until he’s fucking his own spend deep inside the boy, face buried in his fragrant curls.
Marius stays there for a moment, splayed across the boy's back, pressing kisses into his hair.
He’s careful when he pulls out, watching as his cum drips from the abused hole, his knees crack loudly in the silent bathroom as he drops to the floor, and gently licks his own seed from the boy’s sensitive hole. Above him, Armand whimpers from the overstimulation, hiding his flushed face in his elbow.
Once he’s gotten all of it, he holds it inside his mouth, stands up, and tenderly pulls the boy into his arms, bringing their mouths together so he can feed his own seed to the boy. Armand hums happily against him when he tastes himself in Marius’ mouth. They stay there like that for a moment, trading lazy kisses under the fluorescent lights until they inevitably hear the doorknob jiggle.
Marius walks Armand to his car in the mall parking lot, under a blanket of stars, snow swirling around them, with a hand at the small of his back the whole way there. He can’t deny the pleasure that runs through him when he notices the slight limp in the boy's step.
“Were you disappointed the beard wasn’t real?” He asks, caging Armand between his body and the car, running his gloved hands lovingly down the side of Armand’s body in an attempt to keep him warm.
“I knew it wasn’t real.”
Marius blond brows furrow. “Then how did you know you would find me attractive enough to let me do… all that.”
Armand laughs. “Oh now you’re going to be shy? If you must know, I’ve seen you painting your mural. I recognized your eyes.” Marius can’t help but press a fond kiss to his brow. More shyly, Armand says, “I like to watch you paint.”
“Let me paint you sometime, then. My present.”
Armand beams up at him, shining brighter than any Christmas light this holiday season.
Maybe this year won’t be a blue Christmas after all.