Chapter Text
“A bit to the right.” -- “No, left.”
“No, no. I got it, Jan.” Nace uses both hands to tie the mistletoe on the ceiling. Giving it a light flick ensures it won’t fall or he’ll have to do it again.
“No, don’t hang that ugly plant.” Jure scowls, casually laying on the couch and eating, commenting on everything Jan and Nace do around the house.
“Shut up, Jure. You didn’t even contribute.”
“I did! I have my Christmas hat on and eating. I sure am participating.” Speaking in Jan’s tone to mock him even more, Jure looks down his plate and announces he needs a second plate.
“C’mon, Jure. Don’t you wanna kiss under the mistletoe?”
“And live your romantic Disney fantasy? No, sir.” Casually ignoring Nace and eating his second bagel. Jure comments that he had replaced the mistletoe with plastic leaves and berries.
“Can you not-” Pointing at the drummer, but hasn’t even finished his word, the bassist pulls him for a kiss, probably creating a jealous spark between them only to result in the blonde chewing his food louder and smack his lips.
Sure, seeing those brunets sharing a passionate kiss is something sweet and what he also wants, but food always comes first.
“Do you wanna open your Christmas gift first, Jurček? Then we can kiss later.”
“Am I not making myself clear enough, Nace? I don’t wanna kiss under the mistletoe.”
“Aww…” Tapping his index fingers together, acting blue, Nace pouts, but Jure ignores him still and washes the dishes.
“Then what do you want, Jure? Just tell me.” A smirk rises across Jure’s face, turning into something devilish.
“I wanna fight you under the mistletoe!” A sudden tickle attack knocks Nace down the floor; Jure indeed hits his weakest spot, and he laughs out loud.
“Well, that’s new.” Even Jan couldn’t believe his own eyes. He thought Jure was just being catty, but that doesn’t look like he’s joking.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Jan!”
“Tickle, tickle, tickle.” Jan isn’t budging but can’t notice how stupid Jure looks for attempting to assault him with that cheap trick.
“I’m not ticklish, dumbass.” Oh, forgot about that part!
Pulling the drummer for a warm, relaxing kiss, the guitarist plays with that thick blonde hair. Playing with Jure’s hair is always an effective distraction before suddenly attacking and knocking him down to the floor. Never let your enemy know your next move is what Jan is best at.
“C’mon, just give up, you both. You can’t win against me.” While Jure and Nace are defeated, Jan still dances over his victory, crouching and tickling them again until their faces turn cherry red. Nothing brings Jan glee than seeing both his boys cracking up until their stomachs hurt.
“Hahaha! Haahhh… Haaahhhh. Th-that’s enough, Jan. White flag. White flag.” He grabbed Jan’s hand, stopped himself from getting more tickles, and redirected his hand to the blonde’s stomach. A team tag attack on Jure is oddly satisfying for the brunets. Jure’s laugh was obnoxiously loud, and his body squirmed like a flopping fish.
“Stop, guys. That’s enough. Time to open presents, shall we?” Getting up from the floor, Nace puts his hands inside the pajamas’ pocket, eyeballs cuing upstairs, and Jure’s pupils dilated. The blonde always knows that there’s always someone who plays Santa.
“Didn’t expect you to crochet.” Jan inspects the beanies; it looks as if those were store-bought. Nace didn’t even bother to wrap them. For lack of a better reason, Jure receives a handmade beanie and a plushie.
“Ehh, gimme those!” Right before Jure could get his hand on the present, Nace snatched them and held them as high as he could, subtly mocking Jure’s height.
“Heard you like to fight. I’d like to-” -- “Hngh!” Nace might be bigger, but Jure is agile; pulling the bigger guy for a kiss and snatching the presents back is just a piece of cake. While the older guys fight like a child, Jan sits on the bed, enjoying the live comedy.
“You guys done? You still owe me a kiss, Nace.” Muttering “yeah, right”, sitting next to Jan and leaning in for a kiss, it’s just everything Jan wanted for this year’s closure, including Jure, for sure. Giving his lap for the blonde to sit on, Jure wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Mmmm, you’re the best kisser, Jan.” Always the one to start the fire, Jure wraps his arms tightly around Jan, greedily kissing his lips down to his neck and clavicle, giving Nace the jealousy spark. The louder those lips smack, the more someone gets jealous.
“Hey, that’s enough.” Half growling, Nace forcefully pulls Jan and Jure apart before crashing his lips against Jure’s. Knowing his strategy worked smoothly, Jure does his best to avoid and pull back, but that’s impossible when Nace tightly grabs his upper arms.
“You think you’re so smart? Guess what? That works..” Lowering his tone, subtly getting his hand underneath that shirt, Nace lets his brain take the wheel, teasing Jure until he gets tongue-tied before moving to Jan.
“Oof, think Imma let you top me? Think again.” Fast as the wind, Jan smoothly pulls Nace down the bed and sits on his thighs. Not wanting to fight back, Nace smirked, waiting for Jan to do whatever his heart desired.
Their unique, one-of-a-kind dynamic is simultaneously charming and chaotic. Jan and Nace are all about the sappy, adding Jure’s chaotic energy spice everything up, ‘specially on the bed.
“See if you guys can resist.” How did Jan become so evil? No idea. Seizing his chance to be the top, bottoming two very ticklish guys is a dangerous combination – getting them both horny and laughing never felt this good. The guitarist’s fingers do the magic, jerking the bassist and the drummer until their mouth couldn’t tell the difference between laughter and moaning.
“Stop, Jan, s-s-sttt-toooppp… Nghh… Ahh~” -- “Put that d-dick i-in m-m-meehh already.” Nace's long, wailing begging gives Jan the ultimate boner. Tickling the oldest guy must’ve been a torture that he begs to be fucked right now. Being in the middle of Jan and Jure is rare, but Nace is willing to do that if they asked him nicely.
“Fuuu… How are you still so fucking tight?” Slowly but in rhythm, Jan applies more lube to penetrate Nace’s back door as the man’s moan gets louder and louder too.
“Think we can work on that next time, yeah?” Nace’s focus has been on sucking Jure’s erect rod, having his hair played too. Stroking himself, having his holes occupied, but he hates to admit that he lost this fight.
“Should’ve hung a mistletoe too here, right? Why kiss if we can fuck under it?” The way Jure laughs and high-fiving Jan sends an uneven signal to his body; should he focus on keeping his mouth around Jure’s fuck pole or feeling Jan's balls deep inside him already or pleasing himself for that matter, nothing comes close to having them all simultaneously. Gently pulling out so that Jan could see Nace moans and make that perfect O face, he enjoys every second of it, but Nace turns out impatient, grabbing Jan’s sticky, slimy, lube-coated, dripping cock, jerking their shafts at the same time.
“I know you’ve been imagining this, Janči. You want to come all over my body, huh?” The way Nace talks dirty with Jan makes the younger one blush; he can never imagine someone as soft as Nace has the best talk-dirty skill.
“N-no, idiot! Inside is better!” Smacking that tattooed arm, Jan pushes Nace hard, laying him on his stomach before pushing his cock into that back door again, but this time, Jan isn’t holding back. Groaning and moaning from the hard, continuous thrusts, Nace wraps his arms around Jure’s lower back, choking himself on the drummer’s sausage.
“Merry fucking Christmas, Nacko.”
“Merry… Fucking… Fuck!” It was too late for an announcement; Jure pulled his shaft from Nace’s mouth, spraying his jizz around the man’s mouth; his balls were incredibly tight, pulsating and releasing all the pent-up seed for quite some time. Jan, too, didn’t have the time to pull out nor announce how close he was; pushing himself deeper, Jan pressed himself above Nace, feeling his balls were getting emptied, filling that ass to the brim. Didn’t have much space to move, Nace finished on the bed sheet, leaving an enormous amount of sticky substance there. It was a hell of a fight for them.
It's already past midnight; they don’t give a shit about eating again, not that’ll hurt a soul anyway.
“Hey, are you sure it was a real mistletoe you hung? I might’ve switched it with mint leaves.” As much as the romantic Christmas season is, Jure always finds the tiniest chance to poke fun or prank.
“I can assure you that’s not fake.” Nace insists he still has the receipt in his wallet; while Jure keeps gaslighting him, Nace won’t change his answer.
“Well, Jure, if you did swap it, Santa might erase your name from the good book.” Quickly adding Jan’s statement that Jure might lose his Christmas presents the next day washes the colour of his face already.
“No way! Santa and I are broskis. That’s straight up meanie, guys.”
“But, hey. Let’s toast and do this again next year, yeah?” Raising his beer can, Jure makes sure this tradition is going down in history.