A/N: Corey X Jake = Cake, hence the name. Hope y'all had a great Christmas.
…And let's just pretend this is on Christmas Day.
Corey Graves let a cold sigh leave his lips. It was morning- Christmas Morning, to be exact. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes opening.
Fucking christmas. Fucking snow. Fucking children who still thought Santa was real. An excuse for fat people to eat even MORE. An excuse for children to be even MORE brattier. A way for irrelevant family members to act as if they see you more than once a year. And worst of all, christmas music. He hated it all.
...But then again, he could go and ruin every child's snowmen. He was the saviour of misbehaviour, after all.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror; sex hair from the night before, tired eyes, shirtless, and his many tattoos covered by a thick duvet. Only a few inches away from him was Jake Carter, sleeping peacefully, only irking Corey even more. Why couldn't he sleep like that?
The house was slightly overheated, and it would've been looking the way it was every other day of the year if Jake hadn't insisted on decorating everything in glittery green, red, silver and gold objects. And then there was that dreadful tree downstairs. Tall, thick, and overly decorated with an annoyingly bright star on the top of it.
He leaned over to his white bedside drawer, opening it. He pulled out a pair of dark grey sweatpants, getting out of bed against his own will. He forced the black, satin curtains open, revealing the outside world, coated smoothly in sparkling white snow. He had to admit, it was aberrantly beautiful. He looked back at Jake, who hadn't moved at all.
"Jaaaaake~" He sang lightly, causing his lover to mutter something inaudible whilst he went back over to the bed, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Jake's eyes opened.
"Oh finally. You're up." Corey said
"Merry Christmas, Grinch." Jake replied sleepily, earning a playful glare from Corey.
"Shut it, elf."
"Make Me, Scr-" Jake started another petty Christmas-themed insult, only to have Corey's lips press against his. As if on instinct, Jake grasped him tighter against his body, tugging his hair intimately as he laid Corey down next to him. Whilst locking and relocking their lips, Jake slipped his hand into Corey's sweats, beginning to rub his hard, elongating cock. Corey moaned in response, biting Jake's lip gently.
Corey began pulling off his remaining item of clothing. Jake quickly began dancing his tongue around the tip as soon as the pants were in some corner of the room.
"Holy fuck, Jake..." Corey said tentatively when he felt Jake lick the full seven inches up and down. He groaned in satisfaction when Jake full-on deep throated, swirling his tongue. Grabbing the back of Jake's head, he forced him up onto his hands and knees. He bent twisted his torso backwards to the left, taking a tube of lube from the bedside table, and squirting some of the fluid onto his fingertips.
"Sshh..." He whispered, brushing his fingertips against Jake's tight ring.
"Fuck..." Jake hissed quietly in disapproval of the coldness.
"I said shut the fuck up." Corey growled with a hint of lust, slapping Jake's perfectly defined ass. He gasped slightly at the stinging sensation. A yelp was heard when Corey eventually slammed his throbbing dick into Jake's hole.
"You like that, you little slut?" Corey said, his breaths quickening with his thrusts.
"Answer me, bitch." He pulled Jake's head back by his hair.
"Y-Yes..." Jake whined.
"Damn right you do."
Jake felt the pleasure rising up in his body, a trance of ecstasy clouding his mind. Yet, his body was no longer his. It was Corey's. And that's just how he liked it.
"Oh my fucking god, Corey!" He screamed sensually.
"I'm going to...fuuuck!" He collapsed, his load spraying over the bedsheets. Corey wasn't slow behind him.
"Swallow it, whore." He commanded through clenched teeth, forcing his dick down Jake's throat again. To Corey's enjoyment, Jake obeyed. Corey fell onto the space in the bed next to him, their limbs entwined.
"I love you, Jake." Were the last words Corey said before dozing off for another hour.
Morning quickies were tradition. Always.