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“Please! Please! I wanna see Santa! He's here!"

“Sorry, sweetie, but they're closing. We can't bother them. What about looking for Dad's gift?"

The sweet but firm voice was evident as the young mother held her child tighter, making sure she would not throw a tantrum in the center of the mall. Even then, it was clear the young girl did not appreciate the offer and pouted all the same.

Even when her mother poked her forehead, she still pouted and held onto her tears, with her cheeks puffed up.

But that… Well, it was something Marisbury watched with a smile, faint on his black beak, while he checked everything was secured. The cordon was put, the mall security would soon take over and watch. Most of the pricey equipment, like the lights and the camera, were already set away.

So, he stretched, feeling rather good despite having to sit for what was hours. Though… It had been with a little advantage.

“Thanks again for covering with me. I thought you'd never accept," chuckled Marisbury, his voice fluttering and soft as he turned to the last of the helpers. One who, instead of the typical elf attire in red and white, wore what could be a shabby coat. It covered his entire body with that black fur-like fabric, making him look more imposing.

Way more as his natural bulk, around the shoulders and arms, was exacerbated, giving him the appearance of a giant with his seven-feet-tall height.

“Of course. You told us you'd miss the dinner. And my son's ready to get us soon."

The voice was bass, heavy, brimming with energy as the Ram turned towards the Bird. As that face, covered with brown fur, was suddenly fixated on Marisbury, disguised as Santa. Those chestnut eyes were on the red coat, on the fake beard strapped around Marisbury's black beak. It enhanced the natural white feathers sticking to the Bird's face and contrasted with the black plumage on the back of his head, akin to a stylized mane. A mane hidden under a red hat that was soon removed and that hair ruffled.

“I was the only one, the others called in sick," explained Marisbury, passing a hand over his soft feathers, brushing his long ears, then going up to his eyelids with a delicate touch from his talons. And then, he sighed, looking around.

The Oakridge Mall was already emptying, and it would be late evening when they got home. The sun was gone, and the night sky could be seen from the concourse. And as nobody was around, the young Bird in his twenties smiled. He smiled as he looked at his father-in-law, still disguised as Krampus, for the occasion. The bag of fake charcoal had been emptied and thrown aside, replaced by the sports bag he usually carried. The old Ram seemed a bit unfocused, answering his phone, though his side glances were obvious.

Enough for Marisbury to grin and point to a nearby door, one with “Employees only" on it.

“Hey, T. Wanna check where we store the cool stuff?"

For a moment, the Ram stopped his typing and looked at Marisbury, then nonchalantly shrugged. At least, he made it appear to be while his eyes were right on the bird.

“Go ahead. I'm in!"

Even if he wasn't a direct mall employee, Marisbury had a key to access the backrooms. The employees stored their attires and stuff in the corridors they crossed, barely lit by old neon lights. And as they had nothing to carry, the two walked side by side, though the father-in-law tapped his fingers on his thighs in rhythm.

“Well, well. Isn't it all cozy cozy?" asked the Ram, looking at the bleak white walls, the blue-painted doors, and the stock of cardboards sitting left and right.

“You know it's not why I brought you here, T," answered Marisbury with a grin, slightly reshaping his beak while he slipped the key inside a door, turned it, opened it, and turned on the lights on a… Warehouse stuffed to the brim with decorations. However, as he looked at the angles, he saw there was… No cameras. They had been removed here for reparation, but the company was lazy about it, not that it was an issue when he turned and saw the Ram standing at the entrance.

“What? Come inside," he said, holding the door and waiting for his father-in-law to enter before he closed it behind him, and gave one firm butt a firmer smack.

“Ouch, was that for?"

At the question, innocent, Marisbury rolled his eyes and locked the door before letting the key in. He slunk near the Ram, putting his phone in the bag. Not his pockets or inside the coat.

“Oh, nothing," answered the Bird, still feeling his smile tug on the beak. “Just our local Krampus decided to change his clothes during his last break."

“You noticed?" asked the Ram, whistling and looking away.

“I did not. But thanks for confirming."

“Sheesh."

It was that way with T, or Thomas. Even though Marisbury was engaged to Christopher, his boyfriend of three years, he had something with his father-in-law. Maybe it was the natural silly demeanor the muscular and aging painter had, or maybe the meat he was packing between his legs, or merely the thrill that drove Marisbury crazy for that dilf of a Ram. Enough to not resist the hand guiding his beak into a kiss. One where they had to tilt sideways, where the beak had to open further to the point of looking silly. As their mouths and tongues met, the Bird's fingers went on the black coat and undid the buttons one by one.

One by one until the coat was ripped open, and the kiss stopped, both bearing a deviant smile.

“Damnit. You're so sexy with it. And I saw nothing. Where did you find that coat?" asked Marisbury as he passed a hand over the Ram's twisted horns, over that strong neck, over that brown and rough fur that bristled under the touch. He went over the collar bones, avoiding the leather straps for a moment, only to meet with the harness. One black leather harness going all over the Ram's chest. It went under the pecs, bolstering them, and over his muscular abdominal waist. Impressive pecs and not a trace of fat. More than that, it drew the gaze down to the leathery jockstrap that was the only thing covering Thomas' modesty. One impressive modesty, too. One Marisbury watched with a grin, and a feeling something stirred in his pants.

“It's an old one. It makes me look like a pervert, so I rarely use it."

“But you are," said Marisbury as he approached… The difference in height and bulk was striking. Marisbury was more lean, though he was not entirely lithe or thin. However, he was almost like a tiny thing as those powerful arms wrapped around him. Almost six feet tall, and he was narrowly wrapped by those calloused fingers and puissant arms as they pressed him closer, making him inhale the potent and pungent aroma coming from the Painter's fur.

“How do you want it?" started Thomas. He stopped, shook his head, as if bothered. His hands slipped away as he stepped back, his hooves stomping on the ground. He held one index up as if to intimate silence. And Marisbury remained so, watching him cough, trying to come up with something amidst that room stuffed to the brim with various decorations.

From the previous Christmas, or Halloween, or whatever decorations the Mall wanted to put up for the occasion. Even Chinese New Year.

Finally, the coughs stopped, and the Painter smiled as he offered a lustful glance. He raised one arm to flex it.

“I heard there's a new Santa in town," started Thomas with a luscious and definitely salacious voice. His eyebrows rolled, his lips moved with a suave dedication, and his eyes were on Marisbury as his bass voice shook the bird to his core. “But is he a good Santa?"

Marisbury closed his beak, rubbing the tips together in a grinding motion while he saw his father-in-law acting like such a goofball. And yet, Thomas' fingers descended slowly towards the jockstrap he held and massaged.

“Or is he naughty?"

Amidst the lust and admiration, Marisbury felt he had to fight against the need to laugh. He had to keep it together, but his focus was split between the vision he enjoyed and, well… His goofy father-in-law, who kept tugging at his groin, massaging it and squeezing on it… The leather was indeed packing. No, more than that, it was getting tense.

“Pfhh! Fine," chortled Marisbury, pulling on the fake beard and throwing it away without a glance. He approached, pressed a talon against the Goat's chest. “I have been a very naughty Santa, what will you do?"

Thomas' smile was… So genuine. Wholesome. And appreciative as he reached for Marisbury's face, kissing the top of that beak before he reached for the Bird's costume, undoing the first red buttons.

“Well. I have a candy cane, a very stiff candy cane to punish people with. It needs to be warmed up, and sucked, and-… uh."

“Handled with care?"

“Yeah. Handled with care," chuckled the Goat, undoing a few more buttons and exposing the white t-shirt underneath the suit. “But uh… You're."

“Clean? Yes," said Marisbury, rolling his eyes as he watched the relief on the Goat's face despite the atmosphere being utterly ruined. “I'm clean and can strip while you prepare the “candy cane"."

“Aye."

Such a goofball; he even saluted and forgot about his little Krampus play. Even then, Marisbury looked away and tried not to grin too much as it would hurt his skull. But then, he started to strip. The first layer of clothes was quite loose and composed of that red coat and red pants, everything to make him look like Santa.

But underneath, it was a white shirt and black briefs. He should have worn something more, maybe pants, but since he had to cover in urgency and he did not want to be sweaty all day, he went quasi-commando.

Unlike Thomas, who had surely been stiff and all with his butt exposed underneath that coat. Indecent exposure was something else with that man.

Even then, it was not like Marisbury disliked it. The context could have been better. Just like the time he was disguised as a Ghost with a drape but had nothing underneath and a vibrator stuffed up his ass. The ghost boner remained a good moment.

“Are you ready? My candy cane is very hard!"

“I am! I am!" shouted Marisbury back, quickly removing the shirt covering his black-feathered back and the red rhombus between his pectorals. Then, there were his briefs as he removed them to expose his genitals and half-hard cock. To be fair, he was packing a lot. His testicles were on the humongous side, going to the apple-sized. His uncut cock was more like a monster covered with a slightly white-colored foreskin that was easily peeled off to reveal the purple-gray tip. He gave it one firm stroke as he felt precum stick to his cocktip… And as he pulled the skin up and down, he smeared all that musky precum over his cocktip, making it glisten as it grew and throbbed with all the blood rushing inside. The head was wide with a distinctive corona and a discreet meatus, contrasting with the length as it presented only a few throbbing and bulging veins. In length, he was almost at eight inches and he was proud of his girth, too.

But as he turned towards Thomas. Well, the Ram was packing something closer to a beercan; he gripped and shook it, unashamed. In the relatively cold room, the cut and reddish organ was steaming. Positively so with its musky aroma already tingling Marisbury's nostrils.

His testicles were immense, bigger than the Bird's. In fact, they could be compared to oranges. And worse, they were low-hanging while that cock was stroked lazily, by the old male who had removed the jockstrap and thrown it… Aside?

However, as Thomas sat on a random plastic chair, typical of a summer picnic, he held a bottle of lube in his other hand. One, he was waiting for Marisbury to see before he gave it a firm squeeze. One squeeze. And the translucent jet hit the head, sprayed, covered, and coated it before it dripped on each side. It was a lascivious sight, as much as the grin Thomas offered.

“Getting ready for your punishment, Santa?"

Again with that roleplay. Even then, Marisbury only rolled his eyes and stepped closer, his talons clicking on the concrete ground as he turned and presented his firm posterior. Round, generous, but not “caked" to the point of attracting the eyes. Nah, Marisbury had a neat ass, but nothing that was to talk about, like the latest trending bimbo.

However, that ass was certainly squeezed and massaged by the lube-coated fingers. They dug into the soft feathers, the duvet underneath, and then the skin. Soft. The flesh beneath was rigid but not excessively. So much so the Ram had no problem giving those cheeks a feel then smacking them. Twice.

Each time he smacked them, the rectrices feathers above Marisbury's ass trembled and swayed but never fell, never covered or hid that posterior. Not even when the cold lube was smeared on that posterior… Or when a dastard finger tried its way in the crevice, tempting and playing with the sweat-caked feathers before finding the naturally inflated rim there.

One rim he touched, caressed, prodded, and fingered with two fingers in a matter of a second. One second and the two fingers were already inside the loose orifice, tugging on the rim to the left before he had the fingers spreading and scissoring to expand the orifice, try out its natural elasticity.

“Hmm hmm, Santa has been a good bitch," said Thomas with his deep rumbling voice.

Not so much.

Marisbury not so often bottomed, and certainly did not so with his fiancee. But birds were naturally… Stretchy. That and other issues. But being stretchy certainly gave them a reputation for being size-queen, and for a moment, the Bird was about to roll his eyes. But then, he pressed his hips back, nearly smacking them against the Ram's hand… Almost wrapping another finger inside those sultry and warm depths.

“Go on, Krampus. Try out my hole."

“Your Santussy?"

Marisbury snorted, incapable of holding it. It was disgusting as his nostrils were suddenly exhaling. But he had to snort as he was not expecting it… Not even as those fingers were still digging into his asshole.

“My Santussy? Really?"

“It's not your generation? I saw it on Reddit."

“I… Hrmph. Let's not continue with that topic… And let's get back to… This."

“To using my candy cane to ruin your santussy?"

“… That."

Marisbury would have smacked the Ram on the head if he was not so nice, so cuddly, so… Good. But he would have if it was a different dude. Still, he sighed and felt the cold jet of lube being sprayed on his asshole without much care. He did not need that much fluid, but if his father-in-law emptied the whole bottle, he was not one to stop him.

Rather, he was the one to encourage the fingers to dig deeper. To press against the loose and warm inner walls. Well, and to wiggle deeper. Much deeper.

Thomas was only a breath away from Marisbury's sweet spot. But the male was still not progressing enough. Sure, it was wondrous to get fingered, and Marisbury's hole was on the sensitive side. But it would be better to have his spot played with.

“Deeper. On the left," he ordered, grumbling.

“Aye."

And the fingers delved deeper, moved on the left. Well, the wrong left.

“The other left. Your left."

“Oh!"

Then, the fingers were on the spot they massaged and squeezed. They circled around it. It started to warm up and feel fuzzy. Not numb. Just fuzzy, good. Well… Pleasant. Distracting. Tempting. Marisbury's asshole clenched and closed on the digits. It held them tight, but not tight enough to stop them from moving. Not even enough to stop another finger from joining and wiggling.

Not even to stop the lube from oozing everywhere and spurting out, like a wet suction.

And then… Thomas seemed to have enough as he ripped his fingers out, leaving the emptiness behind. That and the cold air rushing inside Marisbury as he gasped.

“Fu-Fuck. It's cold," mumbled the Bird, feeling the tingling as his asshole was getting poked by the cold room temperature… And instantly being warmed up by a hot, tempting, and throbbing tip right at the entrance. A mere push and the gaping hole did not resist.

“Hrmph… I feel it, my candy cane's getting warm."

Warm. So did the Bird's hole as that fat cockhead, wider than a beercan, was spreading that sphincter apart and stretching it so well, it could have hurt anyone else. But not Marisbury. Not as his beak clicked and his feathers tensed. Even the ones forming his mane, or the ones on his knees and elbows. Everything that was him tensed, and so followed the skin. His feathers on his chest puffed up, forming a proper gorge atop the red rhombus.

But beyond that, his limbs stretched.

His legs… His arms. Everything stretched. Whether to change his balance as two hands were on his thighs, supporting them, or to grip the armchair. A horn narrowly nicked his head, but then, there was the Ram's breath at his earhole.

“I wanna fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk ever again," said Thomas, his voice still deep and sultry. And worse, now that Marisbury was lying against his father-in-law's chest, he felt the deep rumble shake his spine, too.

“Hunhun… Go for it," said Marisbury, barely caring anymore as his talons dug into the plastic arms. He dug into them, scrapping while the cocktip delved further. It had already slipped inside… Well, more than half of it without a wince or a stop.

And it was barely different as that throbbing and veiny mast slipped entirely within the Bird's outstretched asshole. The rim was tensed, exposed. Worse, the natural pink hue was almost whitening from the pressure applied to the soft flesh…. Outside. And inside. But even then, it felt good. Wondrous.

The suction noises were followed by sputters as the lube tried to squeeze out through the pressure inside, limited by the Ram's girth. But it was good. Warm… Hot as that warm lube dribbled and landed on the Ram's cock, all over his nuts and thighs… That and then, the precum he started to pump with each throb, with each thrust inside.

“You are better than my wife, truth. Your hole… That's a top tier cunt," grunted Thomas, pulling the Bird's thighs down, forcing him to impale on that enormous and pleasing cock.

“Shut up," growled Marisbury back, feeling weird and strange now that he was reminded of it. Even then, it was… A non-issue.

Thomas had an open marriage. Marisbury and Christopher planned for something similar, though Marisbury still kept the Thomas-topic out of the discussion. His Fiancee probably doubted of something. But did it matter?

Not as Marisbury trembled, quivered, and sighed from having his asshole ruined. His Fiancee could not compare and had no access to his hole. In their couple, Marisbury was the top only. But here? He could switch. He could take up that monster of a cock… Or sometimes pounded his father-in-law's ass. It was refreshing, changing, new… Exciting as he had his beak gripped and led into another kiss. One that was sloppy since their mouths couldn't align. But his beak opened, the lips pressed between, and the tongues danced but for a moment. It was not as satisfying, Thomas once said, but it was good enough.

Good enough for them as the Ram pulled back, licking his lips and rubbing his torso. The harness pressed against Marisbury's feathered back to the point of chafing. Just so the Bird would feel that cock rubbing his inner walls or hammer against his prostate when he bounced.

Marisbury was hard and needy. His breathing was quick, mixed with dry heaves. His legs were kicking the air, his talons still clawing.

And his hole? It was close, so close as much as it was hurting. But it would not stop the Ram, it would not stop him from pushing in and out. From plowing that hole until it would be hard and painful to sit for hours.

Even then… Even then, Marisbury grunted and swallowed his saliva, feeling his cock stiffen and shoot precum all over his length, his balls, and the chair.

It was a delightful sensation as his talons outstretched and clawed the air. Oh and his eyes? They were closing and tensing as Thomas kept pushing, pumping, and hitting where it felt right, where it felt good.

Where it was wondrous for the pretty Bird, whose voice started to rumble and whistle, the song fleeing from his throat with each hit.

A different song than the expected Christmas Carols, something way more pervert as that belly was outstretched and hit from within by that enormous cocktip. It popped in, only to disappear a second later. And again to return. And to leave. And to come back, always stretching and erasing the Bird's soft guts. At this point, the Ram was as brutal as he could be, his hooves stomping on the ground while he pumped and humped the Bird's ass, lifting it only to smack those cheeks down on that lap and those nuts.

Precum dribbled everywhere, on them, on their fur, on their feathers, on the plastic, on the concrete.

The dripping could have been loud, if not for the constant smack echoing in the room.

Marisbury's cheeks were bright red under the feathers, certainly redder than his Santa attire. And it was way warmer now that he was spending all that energy, from sitting all day, on getting rammed.

“Best… Hole! Ever!" grunted Thomas, his fingers digging deeper into the thighs the knuckles were going white under the fur. His hooves stomped faster, his voice almost turning into a bleating as his legs tensed and narrowly cramped. His eyelids fluttered, too. His ears flicked the air, his neck tensed. Everything that was Thomas tensed before he shifted his posture.

“S-Shit!" cried Marisbury as he was suddenly manhandled, felt the cock slip out from his weak and tenderized hole. His legs were barely answering his heed when he was forced on his feet and had one lifted, placed on the chair.

He was on a precarious balance as he gripped the chair with his weakened hands, his cock hard and wanting between his spread legs. But not as much as his gaping, lubed, and precum-coated hole. It gaped, winked, closed in a thunderous jet of fluids. Then, it opened when the Ram's lubed cock was back pointing at the entrance.

“Best Christmas gift!" continued Thomas, licking his lips as he reached for Marisbury's feathered nape and held it. It hurt, it stung, it was not a place to be held. But the Ram's massive hand and steady grip held so many feathers, they were not plucked. Or not too many.

Nevertheless, the Bird roared and extended his neck back, arching his entire back and presenting his posterior with a better angle.

Something that was perfect to be claimed, taken, suddenly thrust within.

And Thomas did. He plunged deep into the hole until the Bird's tail rubbed against his lower belly. The rim, the sphincters, everything clenched, and Marisbury's beak once again closed, rubbing and gritting as he was trying to control his body… His growing orgasm, the pressure rising at the tip of his cock.

A valiant effort as his cock was hard, so hard, it was also burning. His nuts were so heavy, his prostate about to burst, his ass to give out. He closed his eyes, clenched them as he had the Ram's hand firmly holding onto him… And his rough breath against his earhole.

“I'm… HRMPH!" shouted the Bird. And so he shot.

He shot, his cock exploded with one white line of cum extending onward and outward. It went up and up, until it landed on a nearby plastic pumpkin. And then more were added, more lines traced between the chair right onto the pumpkin, sometimes hitting the backrest and yet forming those white lines drawing closer with each shot until they landed on the seat itself and… Marisbury was panting, his cock already softening despite the pounding Thomas continued.

A rough and brutal pounding, the Ram was unwilling to let go as he grunted and held onto the Bird's shoulders, digging into them.

“Hrmph… THANK YOU… SANTA!" shouted the Ram as his movements grew in amplitude and slowed. Instead of thrusting like a rabid beast, he went for slow moves…. For slow hits that narrowly made the Bird stumble onward. But no. And he continued. Each time, he hit with an increasing might and filled the room with those smacks.

Until he bleated.

It was not pretty, but he bleated, opening his mouth wide open and extending his neck. He bleated, and his fluffy little tail wagged. He bleated, and his hooves stomped. He bleated… And he stuffed Marisbury, cumming into him what had been a few days worth of unanswered needs.

His back stiffened as much as his legs, his teeth ground together, and his scrotum lifted as he ejaculated again.

And again.

His cock remained firmly anchored in Marisbury's hole, feeling and enjoying the loose hole as he stuffed it. Cum already dripped, so did the precum mixed in. And finally…

The hand on the feathers relaxed. The cock remained inside but soft, less throbbing, less… Excited. Their hips were joined, but Marisbury did not move.

The Bird heaved, grumbled, feeling the wetness and warmth stuffing his hole. And then, he sighed. He sighed as his fingers were more reactive to his orders, as he could close them on the chair without feeling them too weak. And he sighed, lowering his head. His ass was on fire, stuffed and yet leaking as the Ram was slowly pulling away. That cum dripped from his hole, tempting him as he grumbled and… Looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you." Beamed the Ram, his voice as genuine as his smile and the rumble in his voice.

“Hrmph. Glad it pleased you," said Marisbury, trying to act nice despite having his guts throbbing and positively stuffed. They were rounder, a tad. Not excessively so, to the point of asking if he was pregnant. A guy, pregnant?

Still, he shook his head as he pressed a hand on his belly and looked around. To the mess they made. He shook a leg, feeling the tension and blood returning to it, then sighed while he checked his other limbs. Arms, legs. They were all working as he looked and heard the hooves stomping and Thomas walking around.

“So… That's where you hide your stuff for the celebrations? Hey… is that a fish?"

Already was the Ram looking away and not giving the bird any help. Marisbury had to stand alone, walk unevenly with his talons clicking. No, the goofball was already checking some stuff and being in awe at the collection of sundries here and there. Even what they got for the last Independence Day. He was not concerned with Marisbury, not checking him when the Bird approached and gave that butt a smack.

“Oh! Hey! Hehehe. Careful with the merchandise," said Thomas, pleasantly surprised.

“Hmm, hmm. Well, I guess it's my time to punish a naughty boy."

“Wait… What? Huh… My son's almost here," mumbled Thomas, suddenly remembering that detail.

“And it didn't seem to bother you from fucking me or going on a rampage," pointed out Marisbury, nodding towards the cum here and there, or even the line following Thomas' rampaging path amidst the decorations.

“Now… Get your hands on somethi- yeah, that table. And show me that fluffy ass," ordered Marisbury.

“Heh. I can't stop you from… Fine. You can get my Krampussy-hey!"

A smack later and two firm talons pressing on the Ram's strong back, Thomas was bending over on a table covered with electronics, certainly remote controls so they could turn the mechatronics on and off.

Some were even dropped as Marisbury kept his talons pressed against that back, forcing Thomas to lean over properly until he had that fluffy tail up and those legs spread. Prepared just… So the Bird could delve his beak between those cheeks.

“Hey… I'm not… Lubed."

Marisbury rolled his eyes, watching his father-in-law's swollen pucker. If Marisbury was a natural who did not indulge, Thomas was a connoisseur with an acquired taste. Plus, with one finger pressing against the orifice, Marisbury confirmed his suspicion. He confirmed the presence of lube, the faint artificial smell coming from it as he pushed against the sphincter and found it yearning. Opening. Yawning.

He pushed his index further, with knuckles first and avoiding the talons so he would not hurt the Ram… Before he had his beak pressing against the entrance. The smell was raw, masculine, sweaty. Ass. Pure ass. The kind that was begging to be plowed and eaten out.

One ass the Bird started to spread by pressing his beak against it, rubbing the elongated but smoothened tip against it.

“He-Heh. There's no way I can make you stop?"

Marisbury did not answer. Rather, he pressed his beak further. The warm and steamy orifice was right there, pressing against the soft surface. And then opening up, spreading further as the natural width forced on it. No different than a toy or a cock, Marisbury used his beak to spear the Ram's hole. And he penetrated it further, watching and feeling his skull slightly rattled by the contractions around the tip.

But at the same time, there was that sweaty, lubed butthole all around his beak, even on his nostrils, as he pushed further.

The more he pushed, the more the Ram trembled. The more that fluffy tail danced, and those hooves stomped. The more the big Painter was moaning like a bitch, his soft cock going hard again between his legs. His low-hanging nuts were right at the level for Marisbury to grab and massage them. One orb in hand, he rolled it, pressed it, massaged it, stroked the soft skin around it while he tilted his head further. His beak advanced, and so did the pressure as he poked the male's prostate. The sensitive Thomas and Christopher loved to play with. Tonight, it was Thomas who got his hole titillated, teased, and then… Pried. The beak opened.

The beak opened, and with it, a tongue slipped out to give the spot a lick. Then, another. Then, a third. And under the affection, the big Ram was like an instrument. He did not bleat, but his muffled groans were going up and down while Marisbury was eagerly gripping his cock and pulling it down.

The uncovered tip, the cut cock, was at the Bird's mercy. And he had none. His scales-covered fingers were brutally holding onto the wide and veiny cock to stroke it. He pumped on it, keeping such pressure the Ram was even yelping from the abuse. Or maybe it was the sudden squeeze on the left nut, or the tilt that gave his prostate a nudge.

Either way, Thomas was better bending over and using the table as support as he was clearly losing his footing under the Bird's touch.

The Ram was growing tense from the beak's frotting, enjoining him to control his voice, his mouth, his moans until he had to cover his lips. But there was no denial he enjoyed it, even if he would have preferred the upper part of the beak to be against the prostate; it gave Marisbury better control on the stimulation and nudges.

But the Bird was compensating with his tongue that poked and circled, unevenly. Even his fingers, his talons, were delicious squeezing that length, milking it in tandem as one hand worked on it and then the other. They exchanged roles, though they never left the Ram wanting or yearning for touch. Not at all as they squeezed, touched, prodded… And sometimes rubbed the rough scutes against the Ram's swollen meatus until he was again bleating and holding onto his face.

“Hhhm! I'm… I'm about to cum! F-Fuck!" groaned Thomas, overly sensitive after his first orgasm. And yet, instead of standing back up on his feet and taking him, Marisbury continued to rub his beak against the entrance. He inhaled the musky aroma from the male's ass, he had his tongue flicking and licking, his beak constantly poking whenever he closed it.

And under his touch, the throb from that cock was going higher, stronger, faster. To the point, it would be a matter of seconds before he came.

Underneath the touch, the organ was taken by tremors.

Underneath the gaze, that tail was shaking.

Underneath the beak, the sphincters were closed and holding tightly.

But then, Marisbury gave it a tap. A tap. A stroke. A squeeze. A slight torsion. A tug. A lick.

Everything was fair game. And he swore he heard a “Fucker" breathed out by the Ram before Thomas went overboard and came. Came again, came against the table, came like a milked beast. His hooves lifted again and hit the concrete ground without any damage. But the big Ram looked positively spent as he heaved, grumbled, and had his little ears dropping. Even his natural and jovial smile was gone as he was looking over his shoulders.

And for what?

All that massage, all that teasing, it only allowed three weak shots from the male before his cock was going soft and oversensitive again. Marisbury watched the cock slowly shrink and go back to its natural soft size as blood was flushed. And… he smiled, pulling his beak away to wipe it with his hand.

“It's a good… Start for your punishment, naughty Krampus," chuckled Marisbury as he continued to wipe his beak off and stood up. He was hard, excited, erect. He put his fingers on his groin, poking at his stiff and needy cock, at the dark-gray tip that was oozing with precum.

“Hey… We- We don't have time!"

“No. But later," chuckled the Bird as he removed his hand and stepped away, looking for something. In the back, there were Thomas' grunts and growls. “Help me clean up, would you? I have something to do."

With that, Marisbury grabbed a pair of scissors as he looked at Thomas, his beak slightly bent from his grin. A deep and amused grin that left the Ram a bit recoiling and quickly fetching whatever tissues they could find to wipe the cum out.

---

“Ah! You're here! I wondered when you'd come!" said Christopher. Wide-shouldered but way more squat than his father, the young Ram looked strong and heavy… And a bit intimidating with his scratched-out left eye and broken horn. Nevertheless, he was radiant and happy as he outstretched his arms and Marisbury jumped in them. He jumped in them, opened his beak, and gave him a thorough kiss despite the difference in anatomy.

Even then, their eyes closed, their tongues met, and a sight of relief came from the two as they exhaled and pressed their foreheads together.

“I had to clean up. But your Dad helped. That's right, T?" asked Marisbury, looking over his shoulder.

Still wearing his Krampus attire, Thomas smiled back, albeit with a tiny tremor at his right lips. Even then, it was no problem as he nodded: “That's right. Well. Should we go back home? I'm starving!"

“Yes! Yes. Sorry, we're holding you off," excused Christopher as he patted Marisbury's back, a sign for him to back away a moment so he could turn towards the exit. “How was it with the children? They were nice? You didn't mess with them, did you, Dad?"

“Me? No. nah. Not me. You know they like me!" said Thomas, chuckling and advancing. But as he stepped onward, Marisbury adjusted his steps with him. Just enough to have his hand passing behind his father-in-law and landing right on his posterior. The cheeks were still there under the coat, and with a slight hole in it, the Bird slipped a hand inside.

“Hmm, hmm. It's true, Marys'?" asked Christopher, pulling out his keychain and passing his index through one loop to make his keys spin.

“He was great. But he made one kid cry when he gave him coal," continued Marisbury, slipping his finger inside the rim, spreading… And then wiggling the finger, almost to imitate the younger Ram. How long would Thomas hold on? It was not sure, but his gait was uncertain, and his breathing certainly more gruff when the finger hooked on the hole, forcing him to adjust his pace and widen his stance in an almost comical way.

“How so?"

“He thought it was a cake," grumbled Thomas, his hole tightening and his leather jockstrap surely crushing his nascent erection. “Yeah. Like a burnt biscuit. I don't know. But he bit into it before his father yanked the coal out and lobbed it at a Christmas tree."

“Ouch, no bad feelings?"

“He," grunted Thomas more. Marisbury slid another finger inside despite the people looking around at the curious trio. With Christopher at the front, sniffing the air and smiling. And the duo in the back, with one conspicuous hand placed near the posterior. “The father was a Karen. He shouted at me, but I told him to fuck off, to give his kid a better example. And if his kid bit into fake coal, it was his fault his kid was fucking hungry."

“That's… huh, accurate," noted Christopher, stopping his spinning and holding the key before he opened the nearest car driver's door. By then, Marisbury had yanked his fingers out and wiped them on his father-in-law's coat.

But it would only be the beginning. They had all the evening together. And if Christopher fell asleep during their Christmas movie marathon, they would have all the evening to fuck like beasts.

And that… They were both ready for it.