This was supposed to be a "secret" gift for the fabulous Delphicoracle-Cat, but it turned out to NOT be a surprise as well as a NON-Christmas present :P I, once again, struggled with the dreaded INTIMACY monster X| but no worries :D This only means I'm on my way to becoming a perv just like her :3 not always a bad thing by the way ;)
When Tugger suggested they go to a bar for Christmas Eve, Mistoffelees was more than a bit hesitant to leave the company of his friends and family. He was even less enthusiastic about the long snowy walk there and back; it was cold and, if not for Tugger being there, a death wish for any nearby strays looking for a little Christmas company.
Looking at the tux now, Tugger wondered why he'd never been introduced to party-Misto before.
Slamming his open palm on the thick glass table, said tux lifted his hand to reveal the signed ace of hearts suspended in the glass. The crowd of queens around him clapped and cheered rubbing their hands over the table. Mistoffelees grinned devilishly at each exaggerated reaction, stealing a glance at his tall, blond, handsome sidekick.
The coon grinned back with a glint of something between mischievousness and pride at his talented mate. Sliding an arm around the tux's waist, Tugger led the boisterous tom away from his audience to the dance floor.
Bodies bumped and gyrated as they passed under the flashing clock that counted the remaining minutes until Christmas to the center of the action. As they passed the sloshed guests Mistoffelees eyed them with hazy curiosity; their titillating, drunken dance looked somewhat choreographed and entrancing through the sheen of tequila and the blaring base. He was trying to figure out what one poised queen was planning on doing with her foot when he walked headlong into a fluffy mass of blond fur and heat.
Giving the brown leopard spots a teasing lick, he looked up to meet his mate's heavy gaze and a pair of bright Jell-O shooters. Taking the red one, they clinked and then downed their drinks. Taking their glasses, Tugger did a sweep of their neighbouring dancers to slyly drop the goblets into the hood of a nearby sweater; its owner too preoccupied to notice the added weight or snickering toms behind her.
Overtaken by giggles, Mistoffelees found himself doubled over with laughter and losing his balance along with his fleeting self-control. Beside him, Tugger tried to keep him balanced, obviously less affected by the various rounds of shots and free drinks courtesy of their new friends.
Tugger chuckled when Mistoffelees finally straightened up to lean lazily against him, one arm tried to drape over his shoulder but couldn't reach while the other felt at the studs on his belt.
"Y-You've had far too much to drink tonight," Tugger just about had to yell in his ear to be heard over the blasting music. Mistoffelees laughed in response, reaching up on his toes to lock his arms around the coon's neck; planting a sloppy kiss under his jaw.
Plopping back onto the ground, the tux reached up to grab a fist full of hair, dragging the flirt down to his level. "Why... why we're not dancing?" he slurred into his ear; hot breath tickled the fur there. He got a cheeky, mischievous grin in return before their hips were drawn close.
The beat of the music was fast and booming but the swaying rhythm between them was slow and carefully balanced; centered by Tugger's firm hold on Mistoffelees' waist. The tux, however, felt encouraged by his fellow club-goers and risque mate to get a bit naughty himself.
Turning his back to Tugger's chest, Mistoffelees began softly grinding his pelvis and swinging his hips as the couples around them had. The firm hands that dug into his hips had released their grip to trail up his sides. Tugger smiled when the smaller tom arched into the touch, shivering as the gloved paws passed over the dark fur to guide the black-furred arms back around his neck and mane.
Without warning Mistoffelees grabbed a fist full of headfur and pulled his tom in for a fumbling kiss, still swaying to the unmatched time of the music.
Tugger smiled, growling lowly before crushing into the kiss, tasting the watermelon from his Jell-O shooter. Slipping his rough tongue to deepen the kiss, he could catch the faintest hint of Mistoffelees's initial rum and coke.
A bout of giggles broke the kiss, the small tux turning in the coon's grasp to bury his head in the soft mane, the fur tickled his face. "This is so ridiculous!" he slurred, giddy.
Giving the black hips a firm squeeze, Tugger leaned in to seductively lick his hear. "You're drunk," he pointed out with a devilish grin. The magician shuddered as his sensitive ears twitched against his mate's hot breath.
"I... No. If I was drunk I couldn't do this!" Tugger watched as Mistoffelees pried his hands lose and settled into fourth position, knees bent and wobbly. Making sure his audience was paying attention, he slowly lifted and did a slow, flailing pirouette. One that did little more than insult his mate's lifelong dedication to perfecting his art. One he'd later decide not to bring up for the tux's ego.
The small tom steadied himself before flashing a lopsided grin to his now applauding partisan. "You've got the grace of a gazelle," he attested thickly. "But it might be a better idea to keep both feet on the ground for a while... We don't want anyone knocking you over with their drunk blundering." Unable to read the sarcastic undertones, Mistoffelees nodded agreeably, stealing a glance to the others around them.
"Besides," the golden flirt began, the song ending in the background of their world. Pulling the tux back to him, he reached around to give his rump a firm, good-natured squeeze. "I need a dance partner to keep me company."
Eyebrow raised, Mistoffelees eyed him wittingly. "Company you say?" A boldness egged him to reach up for the coon's shoulders and, claws lightly anchoring into the skin, dragged them languorously down the flirt's firm chest and stomach to grab hold of the belt lowly straddling his waist. Tugger couldn't suppress the low moan that had luckily been lost to the remixed pop ballad, though not to his mate.
Swaying his hips from side to side, the snickering tux slowly shimmied down. Meeting the shiny, studded belt, he gave the fur above the attention-stealing accessory a deliberate lick; leaving his mouth on the familiar smelling fur, he slowly traveled up the flirt's body, stopping just below his jaw.
As Mistoffelees worked his neck passionately, Tugger glanced around the dance floor; finding it far too crowded for their intensifying 'dancing'. Though with his growing excitement, he was nowhere near getting his frisky tux to stop.
Having lost his humility, Mistoffelees saw no shame in sliding his hands between them, sifting through thick, black fur to gently rub the coon's growing erection. Despite his gloating and show-offish nature, the slightly inebriated flirt broke out in a hot blush at his mate's forwardness.
"Hold that thought!" The small tom frowned when his wrists were caught and pulled away from their prize. Without another word he was led, stumbling, from the dance floor to the back of the club.
It wasn't completely isolated from the other patrons, but the corner leading from the tom's restroom to the club's back rooms provided enough privacy for them to escape any wandering eyes.
In one swift move Tugger lifted the tux and had him pinned between his humming body and the wall. The legs wrapped around him flexed and squeezed, trying to gain momentum and heat as their hips rocked.
Just as Tugger pinned Mistoffelees' arms above his head to grope the fluffy white fur on his chest, bells, whistles, and cheers exploded through the club. They stared at each other confusedly before the Dj's booming voice echoed over the speakers to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Tug," Mistoffelees breathed raggedly through the ripples of pleasurable shivers climbing up his spine, the rough thumb massaging his nipple being more or less of a distraction. His hips bucked hard at the firm, almost painful pinch of the sensitive skin.
When he suggested he and Mistoffelees go to a club for Christmas Eve, Tugger was more than a bit skeptical that he'd be able to coax the young tux out of his propriety enough to actually enjoy himself. But looking at his writhing mate panting and begging for more, his faith in the magic of Christmas (as well as Jell-O shooters and vodka) was truly renewed.
He quickly made a mental note to take his mate out for drinks more often. Maybe they could sneak away for New Years...