Christmas Stockings

The following story contains smut and is suitable for Adults Only.

Tino gives Richard not one Christmas stocking, but two…

One of two sexy reads for the festive season. This is just a bit of fun for Richard and Tino (and hopefully you as well!) Not a story as such, just a sneaky look at one Christmas Eve in their brownstone apartment in Greenwich Village. There will be a Christmas Day story in the following post.

“Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas…”

It was Christmas Eve, and there was nothing like a bit of Judy Garland to get him in the mood, Tino thought as he massaged moisturiser into his recently de-furred skin. Richard was due home in half an hour, and he wanted to be ready for him. The only problem was, he still had no idea what to wear with the stockings he had bought that afternoon from Bloomingdales. 

Sheer and black, they had a sexy seam that went right up the back to a cheeky red silk-embellished bow on the webbing. As soon as he saw them, he knew they would look incredible with the black patent Laboutins Tino had treated himself to when he had first started working for Richard. They never failed to drive his husband wild.

He had spent most of the afternoon preparing himself and setting the scene. The wood burner cast a romantic glow into the room. The Christmas tree, reflected in the large windows of the apartment, looked gorgeous against the lights of Manhattan. Richard’s favourite venison casserole, together with homemade dumplings, adapted from his mother’s recipe, was keeping warm in the stove. 

The table was set with candles, as yet unlit, and Château Lafite Classique 2016 breathed on the sideboard. Tino had thought of practically everything to make his husband’s homecoming perfect. 

His phone chirped, and he smiled at the text from Richard, saying he was stuck on the Verrazano Bridge in heavy traffic. That meant he would be at least another three quarters of an hour, which gave Tino more time to decide what to wear. He looked through his closet, then Richard’s. When he spotted a crisp white business shirt, he knew exactly how to complete his outfit. 

Every time Richard went away, Tino missed him with a physical ache. Business travel came with the job, and Richard wasn’t the best communicator. They hadn’t spoken for a few days, other than Tino receiving a voicemail saying that Richard was on the plane and couldn’t wait to see him. 

Tino could have gone with him, but he no longer worked for Wolfen, and both of them felt it was healthy to have their own space at times. Their love was still incredibly intense which had caused problems in the past. Space helped them breathe, take stock, and look forward to the reunion. And after everything they had been through, sometimes just holding each other was overwhelming.

Tino looked critically at his face in the mirror. He had gone easy on the makeup, not wanting them both to look like the Joker after Richard had finished kissing the hell out of him. Some eyeliner, sleek brows and a bit of tinted lip gloss, and he was ready. He slipped on the Laboutins and walked out to inspect his appearance in the long mirror by the bed. Satisfied, he chose some slow blues instead of Judy Garland, turned the lights down low, and poured the rich red wine into two crystal goblets. 

Then he remembered Richard’s Christmas present. His husband was hideous to buy for. What did one give a multi-millionaire that he did not already have or want?

But Tino had hit on the perfect solution. Well, he hoped it was. He retrieved the gold envelope from inside a book on the shelving unit and felt a flutter of nervous anticipation. Would Richard actually go for this? He wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try. He tucked the envelope amongst the branches of the Christmas tree.

 As he did so, he heard the key in the lock. 

Richard was glad to be home. He had spent the last ten days in Europe, visiting some of the outlying Wolfen offices, sitting through endless meetings in dreary hotels on the edge of grey, faceless cities. He had been to Rome, Paris, London and Bruges. It sounded glamorous but he had seen nothing but the inside of conference rooms, hotel rooms, and airport departure lounges. 

The one shopping expedition he had been on was to Mappin & Webb in London, where he had collected the present he had commissioned for Tino. He had the precious, beautifully wrapped box in his briefcase, waiting to present to his husband the next day, and had not let it out of his sight for the last 48 hours. 

He hadn’t managed to sleep on the plane. Being so tall meant he had been forced to fold himself into the Upper Class bed like a piece of origami. Despite being given the seat at the back of the Upper Class section, even the newer planes weren’t built for someone of his height. More than once he had cursed his decision to do away with the company jet. Next time he would fund the trip out of his own pocket if it meant getting a good night’s sleep.

He fell asleep almost before his driver pulled away to drive him back to Manhattan, waking again as they jerked to a halt on the Verrazano Bridge. It was raining and everyone wanted to get home for Christmas. 

One goddamned day, he thought. All that fuss for one goddamned day. He had never bought into it, even when his mother was alive. They were happy just spending a few days together, which was a gift in itself,. Sometimes they had gone walking, sometimes riding their horses over the fields if the weather was fine. Christmas and all the crap that went with it was something other people stressed about.

But then Tino had arrived, hauling sackfuls of glitter and kitsch and strange rituals. The tree, the wreath, the fucking eggnog, roasting chestnuts from the hobo on the corner of Fifth, family, presents, parties, sequins, cashmere gloves and sparkles on his cheeks like snowflakes. Richard had found himself bewildered in a blizzard of fake snow and expectations. 

And it had gradually seduced him, from the time he watched Tino slithering and stumbling on the ice at the Rockefeller rink to chocolate-tasting kisses; from the glee on his husband’s face as he presented their tree, covered in lights and gay mermaids, to long walks through an icy Central Park, Richard had fallen in love with Tino’s dream of Christmas in New York. 

Finally back home, he pushed the key in the lock, knowing that Tino would welcome him as if he had just returned from war. He was one fortunate motherfucker and no mistake.

“Hello?” He looked around as he shut the door. “Tino?”

He put down his briefcase and surveyed the scene. Two glasses of wine on the counter, together with some nibbles. Check. 

The dining table laid out for a romantic dinner. Check.

Log burning in the fire and fairy lights casting a soft glow. Check. 

Music playing softly in the background. Check. 

“Tino?” 

No response. He reached for the Glock from the holster under his arm. He had put it on as soon as he had entered the car. Not being able to carry a weapon was another reason he didn’t like business trips so much. It was a force of habit going back years, but he always carried on US soil.

Now he didn’t like the quiet. It wasn’t like Tino to give him a muted welcome. Something had to be wrong. After Tino had been kidnapped, not just once but fucking twice, all his instincts were set to danger. It just came with the shit he’d been involved with in the past.  

He stepped cautiously into the room, the gun at the ready. He didn’t like the continued absence of his husband. What if something had happened to him? Maybe he had opened the door moments earlier, thinking Richard was there and…

A soft cough. He spun on his heel towards the sound, the gun aimed and ready. 

A vision stood before him, framed in the bathroom door. Resplendent in spiked stilettos and black stockings, a white shirt almost but not quite hiding small red briefs. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Richard drinking in the sight of his husband.

“Seriously?” Tino arched one dark brow. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?”

Richard glanced down at the gun. “It isn’t in my pocket. I’m holding it.”

“It’s a quote. Mae West. Never mind.” Tino sauntered towards him, causing Richard to lower the gun. Richard’s throat was dry and he could not speak. Tino looked more stunning than ever. When his husband wound his arms around his neck and pressed up close to him, he dropped the gun and enfolded him, crushing Tino’s lips with his mouth.

In the mirror by the bed, he saw their reflections, Tino’s long legs, the little bows at the back of his stockings. He saw his own hands, running down Tino’s back and lifting his shirt to reveal the perfect round buttocks surrounding the red thong, before greedily grasping them. His erection had been immediate, and was so hard it was almost painful, betraying his hunger. 

“You look fantastic,” Richard said between kisses. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“But it’s worth it for this,” ‘Tino curled one leg around Richard’s, encouraging him to lift him. When he did, Tino wrapped both legs around his waist so he could carry him to the bed.

They fell on the mattress together, mouths still locked. When they came up for air, they smiled at each other. 

“Welcome home,” Tino whispered, and drew him down to kiss him again. 

The kiss became frantic, Tino peeling Richard’s jacket away, then starting on his tie. 

“Stop.” Richard’s voice was ragged. “I’ll blow right here if you don’t stop. It’s been too fucking long…” 

“Ten days.” Tino smiled at him. 

“I want to look at you properly.” Richard moved away and pulled Tino to his feet again.

“Sit while I dish up. You don’t have to do a thing.” Tino handed him his wine glass and he made himself comfortable on the couch near the fire. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then removed his tie and unfastened his shirt buttons, watching Tino reach into the oven for a large casserole dish.

“Did you have a good trip?” Tino asked as he put the dishes on the table.

“Dreary,” Richard sighed. “Boring. I’m glad I’m back.” He thought of the precious gift in his briefcase and made a mental note to put it under the tree when Tino wasn’t looking.

“Dinner is served.” Tino’s voice jerked him back to full alertness. The warmth of the fire and the wine had made him almost fall asleep.

His heart swelled with love for his husband as he realised what he was about to eat. The smell of venison and crisp-topped dumplings took him back to winters in Montana with Della. As they ate, he reached over to take Tino’s hand. “I love you so much. I hope you know that.”

Tino smiled back at him. “I know, which is why you have a special dessert.”

Richard wasn’t sure he could eat much more, having gorged himself on dumplings and stew. “What is it?”

Tino’s smile widened. “Me.” He rose from the table and stood close to Richard’s chair, cupping his cheek in one soft hand. “Where do you want me?”

In reply, Richard led him away from the table, before taking his place on the couch again.

“Show yourself to me.” Richard knew how much time Tino had spent organising the evening, and he didn’t want to reward him just with a fuck lasting five goddamned minutes. He drank in the sight of Tino swaying towards him in the high heels, turning his back on him and slut-dropping to the floor, then crawling like a cat to the rug by the fire and flipping onto his back, tugging up the shirt and running his hand down his body to his package, cupping it, making it bigger, biting his lip whilst his eyes closed in ecstasy. 

Richard’s breathing went shallow as blood rushed to his cock. He unfastened his trousers to ease the pressure as Tino crawled towards him, feline and wicked, his divine ass in the air. He put his hands on Richard’s knees and spread them roughly, making him gasp. Then he nuzzled the bulk of Richard’s cock and gently bit the shaft through the thin material of his boxer briefs, worrying it gently, no doubt feeling it throb with a fresh rush of blood. 

“Suck it.” Richard’s voice was rough. He needed Tino’s juicy lips around him right fucking now.

“As it’s Christmas.” Tino peeled the delicate material away. 

Richard was transfixed, waiting for that moment when Tino drew him into his hot mouth. His lips hovered, tantalisingly close as Richard’s cock strained towards him. 

“Don’t just look at it,” he protested through gritted teeth. 

“Patience, my love.” Tino held cruelly back. 

Then, before Richard could register what was happening, divine heat enclosed his cock, making him grunt in surprise.

“Fuck! Oh fuck…” His whole body went rigid. Tino’s mouth felt so good, he knew it wouldn’t take long. That warmth, that tightness, that tongue, flickering around his shaft. The way he relaxed and just… took him all, a soft growling in his throat sending vibrations right through Richard’s cock and down into his balls. The urge to thrust was irresistible. He buried his fingers in Tino’s hair and held him, pushing up into his mouth.

Tino withdrew and licked him instead, his beautiful dark eyes flashing with hunger. Richard watched him, mesmerised. Watching Tino suck him off was almost an out-of-body experience. It felt more than amazing, but watching him do it was off the scale. He was torn between drinking in the sight before him, or just losing his mind.

Tino eased him between his lips again. Down, down, until the natural barrier of his throat. A slight pause then…

“Oh Jesus, Mary and …. fuck!’ Richard grabbed Tino’s head and pushed him further, thrusting up into him at the same time. He was beyond speech, beyond anything other than the explosion of ecstasy racing up from his balls …

Gone. Tino was gone. He looked wildly around him and saw Tino balanced on his heels just inches away. 

“You were going to lose it too fast. I like a man who takes his time.” Tino winked at him. 

“You evil little shit!” Richard’s voice was hoarse. He had been so close…

“You have to unwrap your present first.”  Tino gracefully rose to his feet and placed one foot on Richard’s cock, the sharp heel dangerously close to his balls. “You’re lucky. The tradition is for one Christmas stocking. Do you feel lucky, baby?”

The sensation was unnerving, and Richard didn’t want to move too much. That heel looked incredibly sharp. The sultry question sent a throb of anticipation through his body, but he smiled coldly, carefully adjusting his position and spreading his legs wider.

“The real question is, do you?”

Tino smiled back. “I’ll tell you afterwards.” He nudged Richard’s delicate flesh with the wicked shoe. “Start unwrapping.”

He knew exactly what turned his husband into a panting hot mess, but Richard kept his cool, taking his time to admire Tino’s legs. He ran his fingers over the delicate silk, outlining the tense calf muscle, sliding up towards. Tino sighed softly in pleasure as he stroked the  bare skin just above the webbing. He let his fingertips drift up towards the bulge in Tino’s red satin jock, tracing the shape of his balls and shaft. He felt movement and saw the bulk shift under his touch. 

Tino gathered up his shirt and ran his hand down his stomach, easing it under the jock and adjusting himself to get more comfortable. When he drew his hand away, the swelling was even more pronounced. Richard’s own cock twitched at the sight, but he went back to stroking Tino’s leg, before unfastening the clips on the suspender belt. 

He carefully eased the stocking down, following its passage with tiny kisses, using only his fingertips to patter lightly against Tino’s dusky skin. He slipped off Tino’s shoe and removed the stocking, then put the shoe back on his foot again, taking his time to run his hands over his leg again. It was always a mystery to him how Tino managed to get his skin so soft and supple.

“Now the other. We don’t want these to get ruined.” He motioned for the other leg.

Tino shifted his position and Richard lavished the same attention on the proffered limb, easing the fine garment down, following its passage with gentle caresses. He resisted the temptation to nuzzle the tempting bulge so close to his face and instead, made love to Tino’s skin, breathing him in, tormenting him with the tenderest of touches. 

Tino removed the suspender belt and drew him to his feet. Richard pulled him into his arms, face forward, one hand on Tino’s crotch, the other pushing under the shirt to seek out his nipple. He sank his teeth into Tino’s neck, sucking a bruise, ravishing him as Tino arched his back and purred with delight. No doubt he could feel the solid force of Richard’s cock, imprinting on on the small of his back. He wriggled, making it throb, inviting him in. 

“By the fire, on the couch or on the bed?” Richard whispered in his ear. 

Tino turned in his arms and wound his arms around his neck, his eyes luminous. “How about all three?”

Richard forced down mood-killing laughter. “For that you’ll get everything you want. And more.”

To Be Continued in the next post, Diamonds & Pearls