Corroboree – The St. Nick Smackdown
Michael Robert McRopus woke up on Christmas Eve… so late that it might be Christmas Morning. He lay awake a moment, wondering if it was just holiday excitement that had him awake, or if something else was the cause. After a moment, he heard quiet voices from downstairs. It seemed to be an argument of some kind.
Mikey slipped out of bed. He was wearing his favorite Christmas pajamas – a red union suit with a classic buttoned-up drop-seat – and a pair of candy cane striped socks. They were super, extra fuzzy ones that Daddy Iyu had given him the year before. He’d gotten them big so that he wouldn’t outgrow them too quickly, and their softness and fluffiness had made them a favorite right away. It was hard to save them just for holidays.
Mikey crept quietly out of his room. He heard the voices…they sounded like Daddy Iyu and Daddy Tag, but different, too. He glanced at the door of the two boomers’ bedroom, but it was closed. That held no clues. It was always open most times of year, but near Christmas, it was often closed to keep out a curious joey’s attempts to spy out any holiday secrets. There was a soft light coming from downstairs, and he heard harshly whispered words that spoke to two adult men grumbling back and forth at each other.
Mikey tried to move as quietly as possible, and he managed to ease himself down the stairs low enough that he could duck his head and peer through the banister. There were two figures in the dim lighting of the Christmas tree’s many twinkling lights. One was a gray kangaroo who was unmistakably dressed as Santa, with red suit and hat, white beard, black boots, and all. The other figure was a slightly larger and bulkier red kangaroo dressed in a deep green velvet robe, trimmed with white. He was wearing a crown of holly, and he had a long white beard as well. In a way, the two were similar to each other, but, in others ways, they weren’t. It was Santa Claus and Father Christmas, squaring off in his living room.
The red kangaroo Father Christmas was whispering urgently and with some irritation, “Look, yeh johnny-come-lately, I’m tellin’ yeh that Bobbers believed in me before he even heard of yeh. Of course I’m the one t’ deliver his presents.” Mikey covered his mouth. He’d never realized Father Christmas would have an Australian accent.
“And I’m telling you, you fossil, that no one believes in you any more,” the grey kangaroo Santa growled. “Go back to being the Ghost-of-Christmas-Who-Even-Gives-a-Crap before I put my shiny patent leather boot up your tailpipe.”
“Why don’t yeh go hump a few reindeer up on th’ feckin’ rooftop, click, click, click? No commercialized hodge-podge o’ nonsense is gonna be deliverin’ presents here. Shove off, or I’ll…”
Mikey couldn’t stifle the giggle that bubbled out of him. Both men paused, looking towards the stairs. “Great…he’s feckin’ awake now,” Father Christmas grumbled. “Way t’ go, St. Knickers.”
Santa shot the red kangaroo a withering look, then cleared his throat. “Come down here, young man,” he said in a stern tone.
Mikey’s ears drooped, and he came down the rest of the way. “Um…I’m sorry. Just…you guys woke me up.”
“Your fault,” Santa said with a glare at Father Christmas. “You should just retire with grace instead of creeping around the house stealing the VB.”
“It’s damned good beer,” Father Christmas muttered. “Anyway, it’s a sight better’n cookies ‘n milk.”
“So…um…you guys both showed up to give me presents?” Mikey suggested, trying to get the two to stop fighting.
“Yeh,” Father Christmas agreed. “Why don’t yeh tell ol’ Nick here t’ sod off? I been comin’ t’ give yeh yehr presents since yeh was born, thanks to yehr folks.”
“Yeah, but you’re outdated, Father C,” Santa said, putting his hands on his hips. “Old traditions give way to new. And you, sir, are about as old a tradition as they come.”
“At least I wasn’t invented by Coca Cola,” Father Christmas sneered.
Santa narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have you know that Thomas Nast was drawing me in the 1870s in pretty much my current form…”
Father Christmas made a hand-waving gesture of dismissal. “Someone’s touchy.” He smiled at Mikey. “C’mon, Bobbers. Father Christmas is way better’n Santa, ain’t he? Father Christmas is th’ sort o’ bloke yeh could nip down t’ th’ pub with for a pint an’ a bag of crisps. Much more fun.”
“Santa Claus brings toys and all kinds of goodies,” Santa said smugly. “I mean, if you wanna stuff some oranges in his socks, go right ahead. Then I’ll be here to deliver a pile of video games, action figures…”
“Oranges in my socks sounds kinda fun, actually,” Mikey said with a grin.
“Look,” said Santa, confidently, “you had one good idea. Mikey should decide who he most wants a visit from on Christmas.” He drew a candy cane from a pocket. “Who would you rather have visit you, hmm, Mikey?”
Father Christmas pulled out an orange. “Yeah, Bobbers…which of us do yeh most want yehr presents from?”
Mikey pondered as the two men leaned down close to him. Finally, he laughed, putting an arm around each of their necks. “I love you both. I don’t hafta choose. You both gotta share me.” He nuzzled each of them, and the two men grinned, each planting a kiss on one of his cheeks. “This is so funny, Daddies.”
The two bigger boomers picked up the little one, hugging together. “You like this?” Iyu/Santa asked with a smile. “We thought it would funny. Tag and I were talking about Father Christmas and Santa the other day and wondered which one you liked better.”
“I still say Father Christmas is better,” Tag/Father C. said, kissing his son’s nose, playfully. “He’s like one o’ th’ lads. Santa’s a saint. Nowhere near as much of a laugh.”
Mikey turned slightly sideways. “Well, I love them both…just like I love both of you.” He kissed Iyu’s cheek. “So I guess Santa can slide down my chimney…while Father Christmas stuffs my stocking.” He leaned over, wiggling his butt at Tag, looking up at Iyu.
“Best of both worlds, baby boomer,” Iyu said, tickling under his chin. “Just like how you’re naughty and nice.”
“Here’s where Father Christmas really shines,” Tag said. He parted his robes, revealing he’d gone commando, his long, thick shaft already fairly hard. “Pretty sure Santa can’t get ready as quick as this.” He gripped Mikey’s hips, rocking his shaft along the soft material of the boy’s union suit seat.
“Okay, you got me there,” Iyu grumbled. As Tag undid the little joey’s dropseat, Iyu stepped back, unbuttoning the soft pants and pushing them down. “Ho, ho, ho,” he teased his son, as he knelt down onto the thick rug on the living room floor. “Here’s a nice candy cane for a nice and naughty little lover.”
“Mmmm…thank you, Santa,” Mikey said, lowering his muzzle, kissing along Iyu’s exposed shaft. The grey boomer groaned, stroking his hands over the joey’s ears and hair. 
Meanwhile, Tag was watching the two in the illumination of the Christmas lights. His precum began to drool from the combination of watching his son fellate his husband and the soft feeling of his son’s bottom against the undercarriage of his cock. He knelt down, slowly easing Mikey down with him until the boy was on all fours. He then quietly opened a little bottle of lube he’d put in his robe pocket, slicking up his shaft a bit more with it. Then he took Mikey’s hips in his hands, steadied him, and leaned forward, slowly beginning to press in.
“Mmmph!”Mikey shuddered, feeling his Dad’s thickness pressing him slowly but surely open from behind. He whimpered. It didn’t matter how many times they did it. It was always just a little bit of a stretch to take the big red’s cock.
“Shhhh…s’okay, Bobbers,” Tag said, gently, holding still and letting the little pre-teen hole adjust to what was entering it. “We got all night…we ain’t in no rush.”
Slowly but surely the two boomers leaned in, each sliding a bit deeper in the little boy. Their lips met, and the mated pair kissed, softly, lovingly.  Then they looked down, smiling. In many ways, they had come together because the joey between them loved them both so much. Their love-making was sweet and slow but very different. Iyu was content to let Mikey bob slowly, taking as much of his shaft as he wanted, letting the boy control things. Tag, on the other hand, was a bit more demanding and eager, thrusting with increasing intensity until the boy was making little unffing whispers, muffled by the cock in his mouth.
“Close,” Iyu whimpered. “Oh, baby…you’re so good at this. I love you so much.” He panted, then drew back. His cock jumped as it slipped out of the boy’s lips, and then spurts of thick, ropey kangaroo cum spattered Mikey’s upturned, panting face.
“Oh, Daddy,” Mikey whimpered, then he looked back at Tag. “You won’t pull out…will you Daddy?”
“Not a chance, Bobbers,” Tag said with a groan. “In fact…here it…comes!” He panted heavily, then moaned a loud sound, gripping the little boy’s haunches tightly, cock jumping inside the slick hole he had been fucking. He bit his lip hard enough to turn it almost white as he gave his son a load of the same stuff that had made him.
Tag eased out gently when he was done, and flopped on his side on the rug. Mikey flopped, spooning up with his Dad, then making grabbyhands for Daddy Iyu, who smiled and snuggled down with both of them. Tag arms enveloped the two smaller roos, and he sighed. “Merry Feckin’ Christmas to us,” he said, smiling.
“Is everyone coming tomorrow?” Mikey asked, looking up at his fathers’ faces.
“Everyone,” Iyu agreed. “For dinner, at least, although Toot & Puddle volunteered to come over early to help cook.”
“Ah, th’ Bacon Boys,” Tag said with a fond grin. “They’re a helpful little bundle o’ fun, t’ be sure.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call them that,” Iyu said in exasperation. “It’s not exactly respectful.”
“Sorry, Santa,” Tag said with a wink to Mikey. “Just put me on th’ naughty list, I reckon.”
“Pretty sure you have a permanent place on there,” Iyu muttered.
Mikey smiled, brightly. “I love you both so much. I’m so lucky.”
“We think we’re the lucky ones, kiddo,” Iyu said, leaning down to kiss his lips, softly. “Know why?”
“Chicken thigh,” said Mikey, happily. Then he made a mock pouty lip. “This isn’t all I’m getting for Christmas is it?”
Tag snorted. “You kiddin’? This is *our* present. Yehrs are all wrapped under th’ tree.”
Iyu smiled. “Besides…Santa’s still got plenty in his sack to give a nice little joey. Ho, ho, ho.”
Mikey rolled his eyes. “Ugh…Dad jokes!”
The three of them laughed and cuddled and made love, while outside, snow swirled through Woodcock Falls, ensuring a white Christmas to delight everyone the next morning.