Kurt hummed the melody to Santa Baby, swinging his hips as he bent to pull the second batch of cookies out of the oven.  He tried not to let the anticipation get to him.  Part of the fun was the element of surprise—at least pretend surprise—but he couldn't help it: he was excited.  And antsy.  And horny, he admitted to himself, moaning as the soft interior of his velvet robe rubbed against his nipple.

It couldn't be long now.

He was halfway through scooping dough for the next tray when he heard it: heavy boots treading on the carpet, then onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.  He didn't turn around to look, waiting for a familiar arm to sneak around his waist, the other snatching a freshly-baked cookie off the cooling rack and lifting it to Kurt's lips.  He opened obediently, took a bite and held it in his mouth, savoring the taste of sugar and butter and chocolate.  A moment later he was whirled around, and Santa's mouth found his own, licking inside and groaning at the taste.

“How's Mrs. Claus today?” Blaine asked as he pulled back, wiping a spare fleck of dough from Kurt's cheek.

“Mmm,” Kurt answered, nuzzling against his neck.  “Miserable until the moment you arrived.”

Blaine chuckled.  “Honey, you know Santa's busy this time of year.”

Kurt smiled, trailing one hand through the hair on Blaine's bare chest until he reached the bronze buckle of his belt, teasing at the skin just above it.  “Busy getting gorgeous.”

“Me,” Blaine said, inhaling sharply and taking a step back to sweep his eyes lustfully down Kurt's body.  “You should see yourself.”

“I have,” Kurt answered, preening a little.  He knew he looked good, especially for their first time experimenting with cross-dressing.  He'd spent an hour getting his makeup just right—heavy, glittery green eyeliner, sparkling silver shadow, red lips and tinted cheeks—and even longer sewing the green velvet robe with white [faux] fur trim that was currently the only clothing he wore… aside from a pair of red satin underwear that barely restrained his cock, and stiletto black boots with laces that wove halfway up his thighs, if those counted.  “So what did you bring me for my efforts, Santa.”

“Nothing,” Blaine answered, his face suddenly going blank, his tone serious as he stepped away from Kurt completely.  “I'm afraid, my dear, that you are on the naughty list.”

Kurt pouted.  “Awww.  But surely even naughty girls and boys get something.”

Blaine frowned, looking thoughtful.  “Well, maybe we could work out something… but I'm not sure you'll like it.  You'll have to come with me.”

Kurt smiled at him saucily, closing in to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek.  When he pulled back Blaine's skin was stained with red, and Kurt nearly broke character to giggle.  “Sure thing, dear.  Just let me get this oven.”  He swung around, sticking his ass out just a bit and exaggerating the sway of his hips as he completed the aforementioned task.  When he was finished he returned to Blaine, looping one finger through his belt loop and pulling him in until Kurt's mouth was at his ear.  “Now I'm all yours.”

Blaine gulped but didn't say anything more, turning and making his way through the living room and on to their bedroom.  Kurt halted in the doorway, looking around the room in mock-surprise.  Nothing looked different.

“I don't understand, Santa.  Where's my present?”

Blaine tutted, moving into his personal space but not touching.  “Naughty girls don't get presents, silly.  They get punished.”

“Punished!” Kurt let his eyes widen and his mouth fall open, attempting to look horrified.  “I've never… well, I think I'll just be leaving, then.  I have more cookies to bake.”  He made as if to go, but was pulled back sharply by Blaine's hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Now, now,” Blaine told him, grip still firm.  “You'll do no such thing.  Now that you're here, looking like that, I'd think I'd like to have you as my present.”  He dragged Kurt to the bed, seating himself on the edge.  “Lay down.  Over Santa's lap.”

Kurt gulped.  “I don't…”

“Lay down,” Blaine repeated, his hazel eyes boring into Kurt's own and brooking no argument.  He was a good actor, Kurt thought suddenly, though that was really nothing new, “or I'll make you.”

“I'll muss my robe,” Kurt protested one more time.

“Well,” Blaine said, running his fingers down the fur lining until he reached Kurt's belt, abruptly pulling it open.  “We can't have that.”  Releasing Kurt's wrist, he moved to push the material away from Kurt's bare, glistening shoulders.  He hummed in appreciation, sliding the robe slowly down Kurt's arms, caressing pale, soft skin on the way.  Kurt saw the lust growing in his eyes and knew that Blaine was enjoying the way the dark fabric contrasted with his complexion, pooled around his hips and then softly fell to his feet.  When his underwear was revealed Blaine growled, tracing a finger around the shape of Kurt's half-hard cock, and Kurt was almost certain that hadn't been part of his plans for the scene.

Lost in his thoughts, Kurt was startled when Blaine arms wrapped tight around his chest, toppling him over to land across Blaine's lap.  “You were taking too long, baby,” Blaine said, smoothing a hand over the cheeks of his ass.  “Santa doesn't like to be kept waiting.”  With those words, he delivered a stinging smack to Kurt's behind.

Kurt jarred at the sudden flash of pain, and at the next, closing his eyes and willing himself to sink into it.  Blaine was talking him through it, and soon Kurt lost himself to the repetitive motion, the rush of endorphins, Blaine's steady voice.

“Ass like yours was made to take this,” Blaine told him.  “Should peel these panties right off of you, show you just how I can make you really take it.  Bet when I finally do your ass will be as red as your lips, sweetheart.  Just look at you... you love this.  Can feel you pretty dick against me, begging for attention…”

Somewhere along the way, Kurt fell deeply enough to lose the meaning of his words.  All of it—all the sensation—seemed to blur together, and he whined, wriggling, grinding down into the solid thigh beneath him.  A little more and he could… he would…

“Uh uh uh, baby, you don't get a reward; you haven't been good enough yet.  If you want one, you're going to have to work for it.”  Blaine's hand was gently rubbing circles into his ass now, soothing and also echoing the recent pain.  Kurt arched into the touch, rocking up and back down again until Blaine's hands moved, closing around his hips to still them.  “Greedy little thing, aren't you?  How do you suppose you'll earn what you want?”

Kurt groaned at the lack of stimulation.  He couldn't bring himself to form clear thoughts, let alone whole words.  “Blaine, want…”

“Santa's got an idea,” Blaine cut him off, a clear correction of his mistake.  “Why don't you take those pretty panties off for me, and we'll see what else your ass can do.”

Kurt whined, immediately rocking again when Blaine released his hips, earning another sharp slap.  “Come on, on your feet like a good girl.  Show me what's under there sweetheart.”

Kurt drew strength from the order, stumbling to his feet after Blaine gave him a tiny shove off his lap, nearly snapping the sharp, thin heel of his boot.  He ran his hands over his body, wanting to feel sexy again, remind himself, before hooking his fingers in the strings of his underwear and slowly shimmying out of them. 

Blaine gasped, and Kurt couldn't help but smile as he reached forward, fingers tracing the base of Kurt's dick, smoothing over the ribbon that was tied there.  “What the hell, K—“ he cut off before saying the name, then looked up at Kurt through his lashes.  “Why, Mrs. Claus… you look quite happy to see me.  And such a lovely wrapping job, too.”

Kurt's head swam with giddiness, and he pushed into Blaine's hand.  “Nice,” Blaine said, still starring at Kurt's cock.  “Why don't you join me in the chair?  Sit on Santa's lap?  Let me take you for a ride?”  Blaine wriggled his eyebrows before standing, pulling Kurt across the room by his dick, and even though Kurt knew in some rational part of his mind that Blaine was being ridiculously cheesy, in his current state the words simply sent a spike of lust shooting through his body.

When they reached the chair Blaine shucked out of his pants and sat again, but when Kurt made to straddle him Blaine stopped him, pulling a candy-cane striped scarf out of nowhere and tying Kurt's hands together at the wrists.  “Naughty girls can't be trusted with their hands free,” Blaine explained.  He finished the knot and patted his lap.  Blaine helped steady Kurt's hips as he climbed up, wincing when his ass fell back against Blaine's bare thighs.

“Let's get that ass ready,” Blaine said.  He reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube, and Kurt looped his bound arms around Blaine's neck, arching his ass back in offering.  Blaine kissed his nose—“so wanton, Mrs. Claus”—and pushed two fingers inside.  Kurt ground back against them, enjoying the mix of pleasure and pain, especially when Blaine spanked him again, just a few light swats this time.  Kurt sighed happily, and whimpered when Blaine withdrew much too soon.

“Naughty girls don't get much prep,” Blaine told him amiably, “but if you're afraid of the pain, sweetheart, we can just forget about that reward.

Kurt moaned, his cock aching, his cheeks throbbing, his ass woefully empty, and shoved up close to Blaine to shut him up with his lips, using his leverage around Blaine's neck and his knees to stretch up, sink back down in an attempt to impale himself on Blaine's cock.  It didn't quite work, though—Blaine's dick slid back and up the crack of his ass, and his hand came down hard on Kurt's sit spot.

“Shouldn't have done that, baby,” he whispered between kisses.  Blaine swatted Kurt again but then moved to steady himself, guiding Kurt to sink down for good this time.  They both moaned at the sensation—Kurt half in pain—but there was little time to dwell on that, because Blaine began fucking him in earnest.

“Ride me, Precious One,” he ordered, the fingers of one hand biting into Kurt's hip while the other rained down again and again—lightly this time—on his ass.  Kurt whimpered, tried his best to gain purchase around Blaine's neck and obey.  His movements were shaky, uneven, but Blaine didn't seem to care.  “Show Santa you deserve your reward.”  His voice grew softer; he leaned in close to brush his lips against the curve of Kurt's ear.  “Go on, baby.  Let go for me.”

Kurt made a strangled noise—half whine, half moan.  If he had a favorite order, that would be it.  And it was easy, so easy to obey.  He was already halfway there.  Blaine shifted until his cock was making constant, pounding contact with Kurt's prostate; his nails scraped lightly over Kurt's sore flesh while the other hand kept up the steady, stinging swats, and it was perfect, he was so far gone, except…

He cried out, wrists twisting in his restraints, desperate for orgasm but unable to get there.  “Maître…” he tried, the word hoarse, sticking in his throat.  “Maître, the ribbon…”

“Shh, baby, I'm sorry…” Blaine said, immediately moving to pull lose the tiny bow, wrap his fingers around Kurt's dick and stroke.  “You've been so good, Precious One, so good.  You've earned your reward.  Come for me now, beautiful.”

Kurt did, spilling over Blaine's fist with a loud wail, fucking up desperately, then down again, lost to the pleasure, the pain a pleasant hum in the back of his mind.  Blaine leaned forward to kiss at his neck, groaning deeply as he, too, began to spurt inside Kurt, his thrusts now short and grinding.

They smiled at each other when they were finished, the look on Blaine's face nearly as dopey as the one on Kurt's.  Blaine kissed him as he reached up to ease Kurt's arms from around his neck, made quick work of the knots and scooped Kurt up as he stood, grunting with the effort, and carried his sub a few staggering steps until they both collapsed on the bed.

Blaine undid Kurt's boots, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor, then stroked over Kurt's body—long and languid, gentle pressure, and Kurt let himself swim in it for a while, warm and sated and happy with his Dom by his side.  Eventually Blaine rolled him over onto his stomach.  Kurt went easily, pillowing his face in his arms while Blaine got out the lotion, smoothed it over his aching skin, kissed up Kurt's back and draped his whole body over him, sighing.  Something soft fell over Kurt's face and he stirred, opening his eyes to find his vision obscured by soft, red material.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, “your hat.”

“Hmm?”

Kurt worked an arm out from under him, picking up the offensive material with only two fingers.  “Your Santa hat.  What is this, from the dollar store?”

“Maybe.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said pointedly.  “It's garish.”

Blaine rolled off of Kurt, landing beside of him and blinking open his eyes.  “You didn't mind a few minutes ago.”

“Hmph.  You did look hot,” Kurt conceded.

“Hot enough for a repeat next year?  Maybe next time you could be an elf…”

“As if!  And I think not.  You make a terrible Santa, Blaine, way too corny.  But you can keep the outfit.”

“Except the hat?”

“I'm burning the hat.”

Blaine laughed and kissed him, their bodies brushing from thigh to shoulder.  “Merry Christmas, Precious One.”

“Yes,” Kurt agreed.  “Very merry indeed.”