Santa — or whoever wore the coat now — stumbled through the chimney and landed in a living room that smelled of mulled wine and something wrong.
“Tonight,” the third said, untying the velvet rope from the tree, “you remember why we call it incesta .” Igra --Santaz incesta-- -v0.1.7-dev- Avtor- Slutogen
The sleigh crunched onto a rooftop that wasn’t on any map. Snow fell in reverse, climbing back into a bruised sky. Santa — or whoever wore the coat now