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"Santa Actually"Written By: Fancy Figures Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just
enjoy writing about 'em for free etc Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 3x5 Spoilers: None Notes: Santa needs a new marketing offensive –
he knows just the movie studio to help him! Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know! Another Christmas ‘Pocky’ fic! Thanks for the inspiration, Lisa-chan!
"Santa Actually"
Trowa didn’t even look up. He held a green pen between his teeth; a yellow one stained his fingers as he moved them swiftly over his own copy of the script. He sat hunched in his Director’s chair, dressed in casual shorts and a tee shirt with a washed-out “WrinkletheSheets Productions” logo on it. “I wish the hell you had something else to occupy your time at lunch break that didn’t involve *me*!” he hissed. “I’m trying to work against a deadline here, y’know.” Quatre raised a carefully shaped eyebrow, knowing how it accentuated the shine of his big blue eyes. “I thought that was what I was here for,” he said, in a deceptively smooth tone. “Join me for lunch, love, you said. Come to my trailer, where I have deliciously effective heating on this miserable December day; slip off your shirt and make yourself comfortable, you said, and we’ll share some unusual *stage directions* –“ His voice was rising. Judging from the straining satin at the front of the thong, so was something else. Trowa sighed. He put down the sheets and gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s the client, Quat,” he said. “You understand how it is? She’s something else; no-one’s ever been so demanding! If we don’t get this film special shot in the next week, it won’t be out for Christmas, and we’ll all be scrabbling for new jobs.” “If I don’t get *this* shot in the next five minutes…” murmured Quatre, rubbing suggestively at his groin. The shape underneath his fingers was impressively long; hungrily thick. He flashed a hot gaze up at Trowa from underneath his long blond lashes. Trowa groaned with the anticipation of defeat. “Just learn the script, Quat, OK? It may well not be up to your Broadway aspirations, and *Great Ejaculations’ it ain’t, but our client likes comedy – she likes irony, she likes pastiche –“ “I like pastiche, too,” sighed Quatre, sinking to his graceful knees in front of Trowa’s lap. “With a thick creamy sauce –“ Trowa opened his mouth to scorn the attractive young man’s joke, but he clamped it shut again as the nimble fingers peeled open his fly, allowing his own frustrated cock to burst out into the warm air. “I could hang my Christmas tree lights on that!” grinned Quatre, appreciatively. He leant forward, creasing the scattered papers under his knees, and took the shaft in between his full lips. Trowa whimpered, and his head fell back against the canvas covering of the chair. He started to groan in rhythm with Quatre’s very lively head movements, his mouth moving up and down Trowa’s cock. “Now?” murmured Quatre through his mouthful. “I wouldn’t want you scrabbling for *anything*, dear Trowa, but I can’t think this will take very long, from the taste of it –“ “Now!” moaned Trowa. His body arched up as Quatre slipped his hand round the back of his pants and down between his cheeks. A slim, long, lubed finger pressed possessively into Trowa’s ass, and curled around to seek its target. Trowa yelped; tears came to his eyes. Then he came, embarrassingly quickly, with a loud rattling noise in the back of his throat and cum spilling eagerly into Quatre’s mouth. The shapely blond grinned, and slid his sticky mouth off its sweetmeat. He adjusted one of his boot buckles; he stood up in front of the gasping Trowa. The brunette gazed at him with misty eyes – no-one did that manoeuvre quite like Quatre! It had made him the envy of many a casting conference before now. Trowa dropped his eyes to Quatre’s exposed cock. That was also the subject of unadulterated admiration; and rightly so. “My turn now, Mr Director,” grinned Quatre, eyes bright and feral. Trowa felt the ache in his jaw even before he’d started. He dragged up the last vestiges of his finely-honed negotiation skills. “But you’ll do the movie?” “Rather do *you*,” sighed Quatre. “OK. You talked me into it. Must be that sweet-sucking mouth of yours…” He reached out, grasped Trowa’s hair none too gently, and tugged his head forward into his groin. The trailer rocked for quite some time after that.
Heero rolled his eyes up and slouched back on their shared bunk, where they were currently sitting, examining their copy of the new script. “Red suit, Duo – white beard! Soot on his nose! Ring any bells?” Duo’s eyes lit up, and he slid a hopeful hand up inside Heero’s vest. “Like that collar I got you? The one with the sleigh bells? You wanna try that again, then? You were kinda nervous about the cats stalking round the trailer the last time…” Heero flushed hotly. His pants felt too tight again; like they had done every day since he got together with Duo. It was a common occurrence. He knew the only way to pacify his aching groin involved them finding the nearest – and hopefully most exciting – place to fuck. And *soon*! “No, Duo, please listen –“ there was the tinge of desperation in his voice. “Try and get the context of the movie – it’s the night before Christmas - “ Whatever his body wanted, he *had* to get Duo to read this script before morning, else they’d be late for shooting again, and Trowa had already docked them another day’s pay for that little incident in front of the camera crew with Duo astride the sound boom… “You mean it’s about Santa, on his Christmas Eve rounds?” Duo breathed against his ear. “Do you know, you’re very cute when you’re panicking!” Too late, Heero felt the brush of Duo’s teasing smile on his skin. Dammit, he was still just that *little* bit too slow to catch Duo’s humour sometimes -! Duo reached over him, the careless touch making his nipples stand to attention like small winter walnuts, and his long-haired partner stabbed a finger on the open page of the script. “Hey Heero – we’re in this scene, y’know – by name.” “What – us? No, we’re just the extras, like usual, just the elves in the workshop…” “Nah.” Duo shook his head emphatically, his braid falling forward and nuzzling in Heero’s groin. As Heero groaned quite loudly at the rough caress, Duo leant further over into his lap, and flicked over the pages thoughtfully. “And this one! Look…” “Want to *touch*, not look –“ panted Heero. His hand slid down the back of Duo’s pants, fingers easing between the cheeks of his ass. The buttons at the front popped open with ease; they were used to this. “Actually,” said Duo, a little puzzled, despite the delight of Heero’s fingers probing for his entrance, “we’re in almost *all* of ‘em. That can’t be right! We never get any sort of a main role in a film, because –“ “- we can’t be trusted not to get distracted!” puffed Heero, squashing himself up close to Duo’s bent torso, and wriggling as many fingers up into him as he could reach. His breathing was very shallow; his face very flushed. “I don’t know if I *want* to be a star in this movie,” said Duo, cautiously. His partner had eased his pants down his legs, the fabric crumpling round his thighs, and his ass cheeks were exposed and glistening under Heero’s sweaty, grasping palms. “Who wrote this thing -?” “Some ghost writer – the client herself. I don’t know,” growled Heero. “But I know what *I* want to be in!” He reached under Duo’s arms and flipped him backwards on to the bunk. The pants were unceremoniously yanked off his ankles, and his legs spread apart. Duo winced as his toes slammed against the wall of the trailer. “Gotta get a bigger bed –“ he moaned. “Put it on your letter to Santa,” snapped Heero, fumbling with his own pants with one hand, whilst trying to keep Duo’s thighs wide apart with the other. “Along with the Shuichi Shindou pink wig and the packs of giant Pocky!” “How’d you know that?” gasped Duo, grasping at Heero’s hips to pull him closer. “I posted that letter up the chimney, for Santa’s eyes only!” “We don’t have a chimney,” panted Heero, pressing into him. They both paused, savouring the sensation; the bunk creaked; the young men both groaned with delight. “It’s a prop, Duo. Made of papier mache. Trowa had it brought in for the movie – uhhh -!” Words failed Heero, as he sank into a tight, hot heaven; Duo had nothing but grunts. When the long-haired man tried to reach under the bunk for the sleigh bells, Heero slapped his hand away – then they both fell off the bunk with a loud thump that rocked the trailer. Still deeply inside him, with Duo’s legs gripping his hips, Heero raised himself up off the floor and thrust into his lover with renewed enthusiasm. “*O cum all ye faithful* –“ warbled Duo, throwing his head back with passionate relief as he climaxed all over their combined bellies. Heero tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it, and it tipped him over the edge. Coughing, hiccupping, giggling, he surrendered to a very satisfying, noisy climax of his own. “Did you hear the bells ring?” sighed Duo, with a (temporarily) sated sigh. “Must be Christmas or something!”
Heero and Duo had tumbled out of their trailer and across the parking lot to the warehouse with seconds to spare – Heero still had breakfast toast in his mouth; Duo was pushing something into the back pocket of his barely-fastened jeans that looked suspiciously like the latest sample of latex penis enhancer that had arrived in the post last week for their review. Trowa didn’t want to know where it might have been in those intervening days, though he assumed he’d find out sooner or later. These guys were like damned rabbits, all right – and he had serious reservations about the script in the first place! Thank God he’d persuaded Quatre and Wufei to join the cast; they were well established in the industry. But if Heero and Duo let him down because their entire lives were ruled by their *dicks* –! He started again, with a sigh. “Let’s set the scene. Santa has a crisis – thinks he needs some more positive PR this year. He’s been neglecting his customers’ wishlists of late. He’s in trouble, and needs to re-establish himself with his adult clientele. So he’s on his way to deliver a special gift to this particular client. Just a short promo, guys; some fun with the elves, an X-rated update on the fat old man with the beard, right?” “So who’s playing Santa?” Wufei leant over to Quatre to ask, his eyes glancing appreciatively at his co-star’s toned physique. “He’s just a presence, Chang,” snapped Quatre. “Not an actual character. Hell, man, didn’t you ever grow up?” The luscious white-blond head appeared at Wufei’s shoulder and rested its chin there. The new man gazed at Quatre, amusement in his eyes. “Oh, Wufei *grew up* all right!” he smirked. “Couple times last night – this morning on the back of the bike –“ Wufei flushed with pleasure, and his hand went back to squeeze at the blond’s ass. Quatre groaned, and went back to wondering why he only had an abbreviated version of the script. “Give me strength,” he muttered. “Chang’s taste in boys continues both to disgust and bore me rigid…” “Lust’s young dream?” Heero grinned at him. “*The Horny and the Lively*, more like,” Quatre quipped. “God, I *hate* Christmas!”
“Here we see Santa’s elves,” came the seductive voiceover (actually the girl who made the lunchtime sandwiches), “looking after his reindeer.” Quatre stood to one side, dressed in the boots and the thong, tapping a riding crop in his supple palm. He sneered slightly at Wufei. “Your cue, Adam Antler.” Wufei glared back. He was dressed in brief brown leather shorts, with bondage straps of the same hide across his back and torso, and thigh length black boots. That wasn’t so bad, of course, he’d worn much worse – but it was the antlers on his head that were particularly humiliating. “It’s for the sake of your *art*,” hissed his less-than-sympathetic colleague. “Bend over and let me give the reindeer a *bone*, honey –“ Quatre was enjoying this – a lot. He stroked at Wufei’s ass with provocative care; he slid his warmed fingers up under the leg of the other man’s shorts, to tease out the best camera angles for their foreplay. Chang was one of the finer specimens in the business nowadays – and if he could keep his mind off that bimbo he brought with him, they could really put on a show for the viewers… “Sing a carol!” called Trowa. “Just a few verses –“ Quatre rolled his eyes at Wufei, and his co-star grinned back, for once in agreement with him. “What about *I Saw Three Dicks*?” he muttered. “You *wish*!” sniggered Quatre. He hummed a few bars of something that sounded like a 70s glam rock hit, then flipped his cock at Wufei’s ass, deliberating on his best move. He was hugely aroused. No-one ever knew quite what went through Quatre’s mind to get him so ready, so swiftly. But he’d never disappointed the cameras; never failed to perform at his best. If he were given the chance, that was… “Hey!” he called, urgently. “Where are *you* going?” The cameras had swung smoothly away from the erotic tableau of Rudolph and his greedy groom, and seemed to be more interested in Santa’s sleigh – albeit it was really only a couple of orange crates and some hastily pinned painted cardboard. Oh – and plenty of sleigh bells along the plywood blades. “Here we see some of Santa’s special elves, mucking out the stables,” murmured the soundtrack. “*Making out*, that is!” hissed Wufei, turning to watch. Wufei’s new man was playing some kind of coachman, for he sat on the makeshift bench at the front of the sleigh, holding the reins that were due to be attached to Wufei’s harness. There was a sudden disturbance in the sleigh behind him, and he turned to stare at what appeared to be a pair of romping elves. While the cameras had been on the other actors, Heero and Duo had tumbled down there, out of sight, and their clothes were already open in various places, ready for action. Heero had hitched his cute little green tunic up round his waist, and Duo had dropped to his green-tighted knees. Heero waved a hand at the blond driver, with nothing more than a gasp, gesturing him to move over. He then reared up over the seat himself, leaning back perilously, and grasped at the copper-coloured hair of his lover, bobbing between his outstretched knees, and panting with some kind of desperation. Duo’s head bounced up and down, and loud sucking noises could be heard over the faux-Phil Spector backing soundtrack. The blond let the reins fall from his hands, his mouth still open in surprise. He stared at the enthusiastic fornicating beside him with some kind of fascination. The others watched with something more like resignation – it wasn’t like they didn’t get this kind of show on a regular basis. “Never - done it on a sleigh –“ panted Heero. He gripped at the blond’s shoulder, trying to anchor himself as Duo’s blowjob got more aggressive. The cardboard panel of the sleigh was bowing outwards with the pressure, and the row of sleigh bells rattled happily all along the sides. Duo’s eyes lit up at the sound of the bells. He started to moan around Heero’ cock, and that was the trigger for his lover’s imminent climax. They all knew the signs. Quatre sighed, and stroked himself soothingly; Wufei took the time to adjust the edge of his reindeer antlers which were digging into his ear. Santa’s coachman just continued to stare; maybe his breathing grew just a little more shallow; maybe his own green shorts grew just a little tighter around the lap. Heero groaned loudly, shuddering into Duo’s mouth, and one of his elven ears slipped a little on his left side. Duo coughed, and laughed, his eyes shining with excitement, and then the two of them sagged down into the panelled sleigh again. And still the cameras rolled… “Good,” said Trowa, in a low breath. He made a small notation against the margin of his script. “But maybe not good enough for *her* yet…”
“Here we see the elves,” droned the voice, “on the rooftops in the soft, white snow, preparing Santa’s journey down the chimneys of the city.” Quatre stood, bent over the papier mache chimney, completely naked now except for his leather boots. A painted backdrop of tower blocks and church steeples wobbled behind him, giving the illusion that he was standing on the roof. His buttocks shone with massage oil; he looked back over his shoulder at the camera, lasciviously. In all honesty, no-one was looking at the backdrop, and he knew it. He licked his lips, hungrily. His hand was down at his groin, stroking himself back between his legs for the best shot. Had there *been* a shot. “Hey!” he called. But the cameras had moved yet again, and were no longer concentrating on him. He looked angrily over to Wufei, but he was also no longer in view; he and his amour were both in shorts and antlers now, tethered rather fractiously to an artificial tree, and finding amusement only in nuzzling at each other. Wufei’s eyes were closed – he was playing happily with his boyfriend’s pert nipple. Quatre glared at the blond; the blond gazed back, his eyes slightly glazed with growing excitement. Some knowing look flickered between them. Quatre stood up and brushed imaginary soot off his muscled thighs. Across on the studio ‘lawn’, there was a ‘snowball’ fight in progress. At a sign from Trowa, the cameras turned eagerly towards it. Duo and Heero had tidied themselves back into their costumes after the scene in the sleigh, but had been distracted - *again*. While Quatre was preparing himself on the ‘roof’, Duo had picked up a handful of the glimmering white flakes and shoved it down the back of Heero’s green felt collar. Heero had yelped, and grabbed out for his revenge. Now they were chasing after each other, slipping around on the white floor covering; they caught each other, suddenly; they kissed, noisily and hungrily; they fell against another of the balsa wood trees, laughing. Heero was panting, loudly; the Ronettes were having difficulty being heard over his whimpers. He was savouring the fingers reaching down his elven pants; he groaned as they grasped at his swelling erection. “Now!” hissed Duo, his tongue lapping at Heero’s bared neck. “Here! I’ve never done it in snow before!” Heero looked wildly round for somewhere they could snatch some quick privacy. The camera crew were focussed on them; the girl with the sandwich tray was staring at them; Trowa glared from somewhere behind his clipboard. Privacy just wasn’t an option. But then, missing a chance for Duo to fuck him wasn’t one either. “It’s just fake snow, Duo – a polyester blanket – artificial flakes on top –“ “All the better,” panted Duo, starting to tug down Heero’s spandex tights. “Winter Wonderland without the wet ass!” “I’ll show you wet ass!” growled Heero, and dragged him bodily round the back of the ‘tree’. Duo sank down on to his butt at the base of it, and Heero’s mouth and hands followed swiftly. Trowa clicked his fingers, and the cameras rolled on round to catch every moment. “I can hear church bells!” sighed Duo, in both aural *and* oral ecstasy, as Heero sank down on to him, peeling back cheap cloth, and releasing his thick, glistening cock. “It’s only a tape –“ hissed Heero, licking reverently. “Who cares?” Duo hissed back. He pushed Heero back off him, rubbing at himself with eagerness. “Looking for your hips, not lips on this baby, Heero! *Fast*!” With a grin, Heero ripped off his spandex and sat astride Duo’s lap. Holding up the tunic again – cursing its unsuitability for the purpose – he started to lower himself eagerly down on to Duo’s waiting shaft. The sandwich girl gave a small, strangled murmur; and she’d seen a few adult movies in her day.
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, I must admit. You know they’re wearing those matching designer briefs?” he sneered. “Mind you, I suppose we should be grateful they’re wearing anything at all.” The blond had turned back to him, ice-blue eyes fixed on his mouth. And moving southwards. “I’ve seen all your films, Quatre Winner,” he breathed, excitedly. “When Wufei said you’d be here as well, I was thrilled. Never thought I’d get to see you close up – like this – it’s an honour, you know -“ “I know,” said Quatre, calmly. “So – while those elves are occupying this particular grotto with their unique brand of *Wan-king Wenceslas*, we’d better think of some other way to keep ourselves warm, eh?” Wufei turned to grin at him. “At last you talk some sense, Winner. The “Twelve Plays of Christmas*, eh?” Quatre leered at the pair of them, his hand absently stroking at his groin. “The *five golden rings* are particularly tempting…” he sighed. The blond looked from one naked man to another, and his eyes glittered with hopeful anticipation. The three men moved in together more closely, and possessive hands started to wander. Oblivious to the rest of his cast, Trowa was watching Heero and Duo on the camera viewfinder. He wasn’t distracted by their sobs and groans from the base of the ‘tree’, nor the glares from one of his props men, hiding behind the structure and holding it firm against the hammering from Heero and Duo’s bodies. “Much better,” said Trowa. “Yes… much better, indeed. She’ll be pleased with *that*.”
“Here we see his elves, delivering presents…” came the saccharin-sweet voice in the background. “Gonna throttle that girl,” snapped Quatre. “With her own damned tinsel…” He sat on a makeshift platform at the top of a rather precariously constructed plastic Christmas tree, as if he were the angel placed at its tip. He shifted a set of golden wings attached to the back of his bondage harness; he stretched a long, muscled leg out in front of him, wriggling toes to prevent cramp. At the base of the tree, the blond young man sat amongst some huge boxes, wrapped as presents. He was dressed in a fur loincloth and something approximating a Rudolph the Reindeer hood, complete with detachable false red nose – and he gazed greedily at Quatre’s limb, just out of his reach. Around the other side of the tree Heero and Duo were tied against the prickled branches with yards of red satin ribbon. And nothing else. A couple of strategically placed bows hid their privates – but from the look in their eyes, that wasn’t going to last for long. “Cameras,” murmured Trowa, and the equipment began to slide across the studio floor. One of the presents on the floor burst open and a nearly-nude Wufei sprang up. “Happy Christmas!” he carolled. His erection bounced happily in a too-small thong, decorated with a large sprig of velvet holly. The blond stared, and his eyes grew wider. At the top of the tree, Quatre sighed. “What’s the point?” he groaned. “I’m going to get myself some kind of a better agent after this debacle…” Around the other side of the tree, Duo ran his eyes hungrily up and down Heero’s naked body. He wriggled his own limbs against the plastic tree branches, and listened to the tinkling of various ornaments. Heero sighed. “You’ve got some kind of fetish for bells, haven’t you?” “Some kinda fetish for *you*!” hissed Duo. “Look, we could just slip out of these things, no-one would notice, they’re all distracted by Wufei’s *chestnuts roasting by an open fire* -“ Heero was already peeling the ribbon from his left arm, as carefully as he could. A plastic icicle fell from the tree behind him, and a gold orb swung dangerously close to a winking tree light – his urgent movements made the platform rattle up above. Neither of them had seen the direction of the cameras yet – and God forbid they’d read the script carefully enough to know they were in this scene. But Trowa didn’t seem inclined to remind them – he seemed content to let nature take its course. “I’ve never done it up a tree,” mused Heero. His long legs kicked out at a particularly awkward knot. He licked his lips in anticipation. “Be my guest!” came a sardonic sneer from the platform above their heads. “You think I’m sitting here much longer, waiting to see if Santa thinks I’m naughty or nice, you’re much mistaken!” The elegant Quatre swung his legs down from his perch, and shrugged off the ill-fitting wings. Heero and Duo needed no second bidding. They clambered away, up to the platform, a stream of red ribbon trailing behind them as they shed their only ‘clothing’. Quatre watched the indecent haste with which the cameras followed their trail, and pursed his infamous lips. There was some heavy breathing and some slapping sounds, and finally Duo’s face peeked out from between two branches. He was on his hands and knees, it seemed, and Heero’s head could be seen above him, as if he lay flat on Duo’s back. They both had a look of ecstatic concentration. Heero scrunched up his face in a very cute expression – Duo bit at his lower lip. Then their bodies shuddered in tandem, as if they locked together, and a smile appeared on both their faces. “Very good,” groaned Duo. “Just that little harder, Heero – oh hell, yes – !” “And no vertigo at all!” panted Heero, his body moving back and forth over Duo’s. He looked triumphant. And highly aroused, of course. But that was usual, where Duo was concerned. The heads vanished for a moment behind an excess of tinsel, and the cameras bustled round to get another angle. “What does the script say now, Heero?” came a cry. The voice was breathless – it jerked up and down, as if the owner was otherwise occupied, and had only just felt guilty enough to remember he was meant to be at work, not play. Which, of course, described Duo perfectly. “Can’t read it *now* – “grunted Heero. “Too – busy – *now*-!“ Duo snickered. Duo whimpered. The tree rattled furiously and several gold hoops and wooden drummer boys leapt off their perches, scattering for cover. The tree lights winked once more, then abandoned all hope, and shut off. Duo yelled and cursed – even Quatre raised an eyebrow. “Oh shit, *yes*, Heero!! *Hard, those Horny Angels Sing!” There was a loud laugh from Heero, rather hoarse, and a final shudder of every decoration below them. A few of the coffee cups round the set rattled, too. Bells certainly rang! A cameraman wiped sweat from his brow. Another one remembered he had gum in his open mouth and started up his chewing again. The noises from the top of the tree were calming now. Panting had replaced shrieking. With a satisfied leer, Trowa marked off the final sentence on his multi-coloured copy of the script.
“Cut!” called Trowa. A round of applause rippled round the crew. Trowa was beaming from ear to ear. He held a cell phone to his ear, and he was nodding happily. “She loves it! She’s seen the rushes, and she’s thrilled so far! This last scene will be the icing on the Christmas cake!” “Huh?” Duo pushed his unruly hair back behind his ear. His cheeks were rather flushed – all four of them. “I don’t understand,” growled Heero. He felt rather exposed, with everyone staring and grinning. He’d never *really* been comfortable with a major role in these movies – he’d always just been happy to have a job where he could earn enough to get by, live with a bunch of friends, and get to enjoy Duo at all hours of the day and night without anyone batting an eye. Well, where it was more or less obligatory, really! Even though their fun was always *beyond* the Director’s Cut. “So what was the special gift for the client?” “You two!” smirked Trowa. “Making out – lots of noise – red ribbons. The whole Christmas thing!” “Us?” Duo still looked a little dazed. He rubbed aimlessly at his nipples, making them spring to attention again. Heero frowned. He stared at Duo’s chest, fascinated by the little brown nubs. His cock twitched tiredly, yet happily, in between his legs. “If that’s the case,” he said carefully. “I think there were parts of that performance that need further work. I think –“ “Another take?” interrupted Duo, his eyes shining. He started to clamber back towards his lover, buttocks wobbling joyfully.
Quatre sidled up to him. “We’ve still got *twelve rimmers rimming* to do,” he murmured, sliding a hand under Wufei’s right buttock. “You know –“ said the blond, hesitantly. They both swung round to stare down at him, sitting on the floor at their feet. He flushed. “Those aren’t the real words, you know –“ he finished, lamely. Quatre’s gaze was icy. Wufei snickered. They looked back up at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. “Look, Quatre love,” said Wufei, companionably. “Let me pass you the number of my agent. Or what about setting up our own company? Let’s do lunch and talk this whole thing over.” The blond pouted a little, and they turned their attention back to him. They stood either side of him, and Quatre gently teased at the ridiculous, detachable red nose. He turned to smile at Wufei, who winked back. Then he leant back down to lift up the blond’s head to the level of his hips. “So… Rudolph…” he mused. “What script do we have for *you*?” “*Then all the reindeer loved him*,” Wufei began, with a smirk on his face. “*And they shouted out with glee*…” quoted Quatre, grinning. “*Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer* –“ Wufei continued, wriggling a finger into the blond’s opening mouth. Quatre laughed, full of the joys of Christmas. “*You’ll “go down” in history*!” And he tugged the blond’s head comfortably down into the warm nest of his groin. End
On to Pocky Arc fic # 6 |
