Taken by the Mafia ✧⁠*⁠。

Episode 20

Santa was still pinned to the wall, his breathing uneven as Perth hovered over him. The close proximity, the intensity in Perth’s gaze, sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through Santa. Part of him wanted to shove Perth away, while another part… wasn’t so sure.

"Phi Perth, I swear, stop it," Santa finally breathed out, his voice shaky, but not entirely forceful. He wasn’t sure what he wanted at that moment—whether to push Perth away or to let him continue.

Perth chuckled softly, his breath brushing against Santa’s ear as he whispered, "You’re not my boss, Santa. I can do anything to you."

Santa’s heart raced as Perth brought his face closer, the heat between them undeniable. "Just push me away if you don’t like it…" Perth’s voice was low and teasing, and then he closed the distance, his lips gently brushing against Santa’s.

The kiss was soft at first, almost testing, giving Santa the opportunity to pull away. Santa’s mind screamed at him to push Perth off, but his body betrayed him. Some part of him wanted this. He kissed Perth back, tentatively at first, but then a bit more confidently.

The moment Santa responded, Perth smirked against his lips, sensing Santa’s hesitation melting away. With one smooth motion, Perth lifted Santa, carrying him toward the bed and gently laying him down on it. Perth moved over Santa, his hands resting on either side of the younger man, his body leaning down to press a kiss to Santa’s neck.

The sensation made Santa gasp, his eyes fluttering shut. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before. His mind was spinning—this was wrong, wasn’t it? Perth had a boyfriend. Yet, the way Perth touched him, the way his lips trailed along his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting something in him that he couldn’t quite control.

Perth was taking charge in a way he hadn’t before. With Pond, it had always been different. Pond had taken the lead, and Perth had followed. But now, with Santa beneath him, he was the one in control, the one setting the pace. And it excited him.

"You seem to like my touch, huh?" Perth murmured against Santa’s neck, his voice dripping with confidence.

Santa opened his eyes, looking up at Perth, his mind conflicted. He should push him away. He should stop this before it went too far. But he couldn’t deny it—he did like Perth’s touch. It was overwhelming, intoxicating even. His lips parted as if to protest, but no words came out.

"Want me to stop?" Perth asked, his voice a low rumble as he looked down at Santa, his eyes dark with desire.

Santa hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. A war raged inside him. He should say yes—he should tell Perth to stop. But instead, his body betrayed him once again. He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly.

Perth’s smirk widened, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he leaned down, capturing Santa’s lips once more. This time, the kiss was deeper, more demanding. Perth’s tongue slid past Santa’s lips, exploring his mouth, and a soft moan escaped Santa’s throat before he could stop it.

The sound seemed to spur Perth on, his hands roaming over Santa’s body, his touch leaving a trail of heat wherever he went. Santa’s mind was a haze of sensations, the rational part of him slipping away with every kiss, every touch. He wanted to resist—he knew he should—but it was getting harder and harder to remember why.

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Perth and Santa lay side by side on Santa’s bed, their breaths still heavy from the intensity of their make-out session. The room was quiet, the heat of the moment slowly fading, leaving an awkward but undeniable tension between them. Santa turned his head slightly, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. His heart was still racing, but his mind was trying to rationalize it all.