When you hug Rudolph
This is a short bit I wrote in reaction to a comment on r/furry_irl. I goofed around with the "hug Rudolph" bit and ended up writing this. It's quite short, and I have no idea how formatting on SoFurry works, but it was a lot of fun to write.
He looks deep into your eyes, gazing past your anatomy and straight into your soul. A warm, magic feeling spreads in your stomach as his furry body presses against yours. His head is coming closer until your noses touch, then he tilts his head slightly, and before you know it, he has put you in a trance with a kiss no human will ever be able to emulate. He draws you in deeper until you are wax in his hands. Keeping his head close to your face, he breaks the kiss and runs his hands down your body.
"Everybody loves Santa," he says, "but they forget that the likes of me are just as important to deliver those presents and make people happy."
Rudolph's red nose starts shining a little brighter. Passion runs through his body, and you can see the eagerness in his eyes. Although it feels wrong that he's making your blood boil like that, is there really anything wrong with it if it feels so right? After all, he is the one who has started this. He wants it. Why shouldn't you want it, too?
The faint smile on his lips reminds you that he's waiting for a response, but all you can do is stutter and blush as his nose glows brighter, then dimmer, and brighter again to the rhythm of "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer." Your awkwardness entertains him. When people only talk to you to ask where Santa is and the few who actively seek you out are aviation enthusiasts who want to discuss the physics of your flight, meeting a shy one like you with an honest interest in the person behind the fur is a welcome change.
He smiles. "It's okay. you don't have to say anything." Rudolph caresses your cheek and draws you in for another short kiss, his warm body pressing against yours. "As I said, we do as much work as Santa. No, we do even more work than him. Do you have any idea how heavy that sleigh is? Moving that thing requires so much... thrust." He winks at you.
Rudolph takes a sudden step back and pulls a small book out of his backpack. "We should unionise. The elves are on our side, too. We will go on strike until Santa meets our demands: fair wages, works council, at least 30 paid vacation days per year, the whole nine yards. We're sick of this exploitation. This'll be a workers' revolution, and you've got front row seats."
The powerful glow in his eyes could illuminate the darkest night and shines even brighter than his nose. You look at the book he has put in your hands: half the words in the title are foreign to you. It's definitely English, but it's some highly sophisticated jargon. Your eyes rise to meet Rudolph's again as he puts his hands on your shoulders to pull you closer.
"This is only the beginning," he whispers in your ear. And then he sexes you in the butt while "The Internationale" is playing at full volume.