The Outlaws' Third Christmas Evan Andrews 2024
Have a Merry Christmas, or a Salacious Saturnalia, or a kick-ass whatever floats your year-end boat.
This is a fan fiction. The characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. Don't ask me in which DC continuity this story takes place because I've given up trying to keep track of the retcons. Or the retcons within retcons. Just know that it is a sequel to An Outlaws' Christmas and The Outlaws' Second Christmas.
I have kept Red Hood as a ginger in this continuity `cause I like gingers. Sue me.
This story should in no way be considered a true representation of the true sexuality of any of the characters.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are, please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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Christmas was a shitty time of year.
Well, maybe not entirely. Jason Todd, the infamous Red Hood looked from the self-drive fuck machine in the corner of the bedroom to the unmade bed where he and his partner (and lover), Roy Harper, Arsenal, usually slept. And fucked. (`And get fucked,' Jason thought as he remembered Santa and his right-hand elf from last year.)
Sadly, the hero for hire business was in a slump, and they had been forced to take on extra work. Roy was out on some odd job that he'd been cagey about, and Jason was getting ready for a job of his own. Fuck of a way to spend Christmas Eve.
To make matters worse, Bruce and his extended family of "sons" was getting all "Holly Jolly" on him. They'd pressured him to join them in Gotham City--oh, and bring Roy. Right, like the family pessimist wanted to endure all that goodwill towards men crap.
And to make matters even worse, two years since he and Roy had been forced together they were no closer to figuring out a way to find, catch, and hold the Christmas Eve Gang bank robbers. (Jason had meant to talk with Santa about that last year, but the jolly old elf had fucked him into drooling imbecility before he could remember to do so.)
Stepping out of the shower, Jason dried himself off and looked at his body in the foggy full-length mirror. At least he still had the looks to pull off tonight's job. The hero-for-hire gig kept you fit, even if it didn't pay all the bills. Thus tonight's job. The antihero was so distressed for funds that he'd finally stooped to escorting to make ends meet, and a glance at the clock told him that he was running late for this job.
He slipped into his black muscle shirt. Then he rubbed product into his hair and fingered the ginger mop into some sort of bad boy tousled look. Finally he pulled on his tight black jeans and tucked his 8 ½ inch cock (and heavy balls) into an inviting bulge on the left side before checking the mirror again. Yeah, he was fuckable. Time to do the job.
Boots and a black leather jacket completed the bad boy look, and Jason was out the door of his seedy top floor apartment to sell his ass for the money he needed to pay for Roy's Christmas present.
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Jason rode his bike to the appointment—way more macho than taking the bus. At the address he'd been given, he looked up the height of the exclusive apartment block, shrugged, and pulled into the private garage (using the code he'd been supplied). This was a new client, and Jason had no idea what expect. Was he meant to be courteous, flirtatious, surly, or a complete and utter slut. He decided to play it by ear.
He took the private elevator from the garage (again, he had to type in a supplied code), and when he reached the right floor, he stepped through the open doors into a barely lit lobby. Wonderful. You'd think for what these apartments probably went for management could do better than fucking moody lighting.
1301, the plaque read. Jason waited a second in case someone knew he was there. Then he knocked on the door—which immediately opened onto a room that was completely empty save for a scattering of midcentury modern atrocities masquerading as furniture. (Jason preferred his furniture to be overstuffed--comfortable and easy to clean the cum stains out of.) He stepped into even more mood lighting and shut the door behind him—hearing the click of the lock as it closed.
Of course.
The already-minimal lighting went out entirely, and a spotlight came on. It froze Jason with its brightness, and the bad boy put up a hand to try to shade his eyes.
"That's enough of that," an electronically disguised voice said. "Strip, boy."
"On, you want a show?' Jason thought. `Fine, let's have a show.'
The antihero made a production number of shedding his garments, one at a time. Swaying to unheard music, he tossed the jacket onto one of the chairs and peeled the muscle shirt up over his defined torso before throwing it at the same chair. (It messed up his carefully messy hair, but he expected that his client could care less.) He unfastened his jeans and teasingly unzipped the fly. He took on more of the mannerisms of a stripper, hopefully provoking whoever was watching (because someone surely was, and probably recording it using an IR camera) with a sight of his manscaped pubes and the cleavage of his ass. Bending over, Jason swayed provocatively as he untied his boots and pulled them off. Sliding the black jeans down his muscular legs, Jason stood up, buck ass naked, so the client could get a good look at what he'd hired for the night.
Jason didn't have Dick's ass nor Bruce's massive cock. What he did have, though, was generous enough, and he sold it with a cocky charisma that sent women (and the occasional man) into raptures--either submitting to his domination or bending him to their will.
A new spotlight came on illuminating not Jason's iconic red hood, but a black leather BDSM equivalent on another chair. The gimp mask was cut out in the back to allow his long ginger hair to hang out (yeah, why hire a redheaded whore and then hide the hair?) and it left the mouth exposed. But it would cover Jason's eyes--and his ears.
"Put the hood on, and once it's on don't speak again. Don't speak, and don't make any noise. Don't even moan. You understand."
"Yes, sir," Jason said, glad to know at last what game they were playing tonight.
Jason pulled the hood over his head, fastening the straps to make it tight but not uncomfortable. Then he stood still, waiting for his client to touch him. When that didn't happen, Jason reached down to stroke his lengthening cock.
"No touching, boy! I'll do all the touching!"
`Then touch already,' Jason thought grumpily.
He was getting pissed off, but he needed the money. So he let his hands drop, and stood in silent anticipation, his cock getting even plumper as he waited. After a minute or two, several pairs of hands (Hey, he hadn't agreed to two clients!) took him by the upper arms and walked him off into another room.
A push on his shoulders dropped Jason to his knees.
Okay. Jason knew what came after this, and he licked his lips. True enough, his jaws were eased open, and, using a pressure point, the unseen customer held them that way.
This guy knows his stuff,' Jason thought. Better than some amateur.'
A plum-sized cockhead pressed past the antihero's lips, and it, with a couple of inches of rigid shaft, then filled his mouth. Tentatively, Jason ran his tongue over the buried weapon.
"Good boy. Now suck it!"
The hands holding Jason's jaws apart withdrew, and the young man wrapped his lips around the client's man-shaft and began to suck on the cock tip. The client moaned, but presently the shaft pulled out of Jason's mouth, coating Jason's tongue with layer of thick precum. Then it pressed back in. Not deep, but undeniably present.
Jason wanted to moan; he moaned well. But he had his orders, so instead he applied himself silently to the job at hand—er, at mouth.
The antihero sucked like a Trojan and soon was taking the client's whole cock (8 solid inches at a guess) in and even down his throat. When he reached up to get a hold on the client's hips, though, his hands were batted aside.
"No, touching, boy! Remember?!"
The big cock was removed from Jason's mouth then, and the young escort was lifted to his feet. It was obviously his turn to get blown, and the guy behind the 8 inches deepthroated him like a pro.
Jason's instincts and experience took over, and he realized that the man sucking him was being directed, almost as if he...
As if he were another escort.
So that was the show Jason was acting tonight.
Dueling escorts. And Jason was sure they both had "purdy" mouths.
Back and forth, the escorts traded places. Sucking and then sucked and then sucking again. After that they moved on to rimming and being rimmed--then to dry humping. All standing/ kneeling. The predictable classic porno progression. Next they'd do the anal scenes. With his hard cock dripping saliva and precum, Jason felt himself bent over, his hands on the foot of a bed while the client (and his buddies) used the other escort's cock to breed him.
Jason whined as he got fucked, and that earned him a hard slap on his ass.
"Quiet! Remember?!" the altered voice commanded.
So silently, Jason let them pull him up onto bed and flip him. On his back, he felt the other escort's hot hole slide down his meat so the fucking could continue.
The other escort rode Jason, and then the bad boy whore rode the other escort's shaft. They took each other doggie style and then in missionary position. And throughout there was no sound uttered and nether escort touched the other except for the anal-genital connection they shared. It a weird way, it was hot as hell.
Finally the clients flipped the escorts side by side as if for a sixty-nine session. Instead of forcing rent-a-cock into the other's mouth, however, the clients hand milked the two escorts towards orgasm. Fingers not only stroked Jason's shaft, but another set penetrated him and massaged the bad boy's prostate. Then another set returned to the pressure points on Jason's jaw (Three clients?! Four?! No, six?!) and his mouth hung open, waiting for the other guy's cum to shoot into his oral cavity. The escort did, and almost immediately Jason returned the favor, filling his brother whore's mouth with rich sperm as his sphincter clenched around the fingers still lodged in his ass.
"Swallow!" the electronic voice ordered.
Jason did, and apparently so did the other guy. Jason had developed a taste for sperm over the years, and this load was top notch. Suspiciously so. Could...
At last the clients flipped Jason onto his back (and presumably the other escort as well). He felt a bony shoulder poking against his own and figured they were side by side.
Hands unbuckled Jason's hood and pulled it off. He blinked for a second in the bright light before looking who he'd been screwing this evening.
Roy.
Of course. Jason had been forced to do his own lover. What the fuck?!
Then he looked up at his clients. There were more than six.
Dick and Tim and Duke, naked and hard, fresh from stately Wayne Manor. Jackson and Garth, from Atlantis, or Sea World. Even Wally and goddamned Bart. And all of them were clearly in the final stages of an epic circle jerk.
"Cumming!" Bart shared (because of course he would) and his over-active boy-cock exploded. Gobbets of hot boy-cream landed on Jason and Roy's torsos, and then the other heroes gave it up as well. Cum dribbled, and cum flew, and most of it ended up on the two "escorts" turning them into "happy holidays" cumdumps.
"Merry Jizmas!" Wally cried.
"What?" Jason asked laconically after licking his lips clean. "No Bruce?"
"Bruce is busy leaving someone's Christmas present in a tacky apartment across town. He'll be here sometime after midnight," Tim said.
"A special gift," Jackson said with a wink.
"So, until he gets here, you'll have to make do with us," Dick continued.
"And our little friends," Bart smarmed.
"Little?" Garth said, still stroking his 8 ½ inches. "Speak for yourself, Spanky."
"That is unless there're other guys you want to invite to the party," Tim said with a wink and a leer. (You could tell he hoped there were.)
"Yeah," Bart said said, "I have Kon on speed dial, and Gar."
"I'm surprised you don't have Midnighter and Apollo too," Jason muttered, and Dick grinned.
"Maybe you want us to try to get your brother too, Roy?" Garth said with a smile at Jackson. "Who has Connor's number?"
"You fuckers are..." Roy started.
"Yes," Dick agreed, "We are. Absolutely the best friends a couple of horny studs could hope for. Especially on a lonely Christmas Eve."
Jason just rolled eyes, but shortly they rolled back in his head. Tim and Garth had descended on him to double-team his revitalized cock. Duke and Jackson went down on Roy, and Bart, naturally, pulled out his phone.
Fuck!" Jason thought as Tim took his length deep into his throat. The little slut's really going to do it.'
Meanwhile Dick climbed onto the bed and planted his knees on either side of Jason's muscular chest, straddling his brother before presenting 9 hard inches of man-meat.
`And now it's time for you to return the favor, bro," the senior sidekick said. "Suck me, Jase."
`Fucking Christmas,' Jason thought as he took Dick's piece into his mouth and started to suckle on Bat Family dick.
Really. Fucking Christmas.