FIC: How to get off the naughty list (Heroes, Peter/Claire AU)
Bugger, I meant to post this at least a week ago! Not much point putting up a Christmas fic AFTER Christmas. Oh, well... christmas eve still counts, right?
(Higher being of your choice) rest ye, gentles all, and peace on earth to all those of goodwill.
Hope you enjoy the following, and I'm off to drink some Nog and watch Hogfather again. Happy Hogswatch, and here's hoping for the sake of your stocking that it's not DEATH's night to fill in!
TITLE: How to get off the ‘Naughty’ list
SERIES: Bad porn scenario #2
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
DISCLAIMER: Peter and Claire belong to Tim Kring (who would probably faint dead away if he knew what I did with them!) and NBC.
FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Peter/Claire
RATING / CONTENT: R. Abuse of childhood icons, molestation of candy, spanking. Oh, and one partner under the legal age of consent, although that seems to pale besides the other stuff.
SPOILERS: None. This is AU, pre-series.
SUMMARY: Peter’s working as a department store Santa to pay his way through nursing school. But the biggest problem is his delectable teenage Elf, who wants to do really naughty things with him.
AUTHOUR'S NOTES: would you believe I came up with ANOTHER of these things??? This is not a sequel to ‘Blessings of Saint Christopher’, BTW. Y’know, I’ve only seen half of one porn movie in my life - how do I keep coming up with this stuff?
SOUNDTRACK:I wouldn’t have the temerity to suggest anything! Just not Christmas carols *grin*.
“The things I do to pay for nursing school,” Peter muttered under his breath.
“Santa?”
Peter looked down at the wide-eyed little face, and gave his best merry chuckle. “Sorry, little one. I was just reminding myself to ask Cheery Elf to give the reindeer extra oats tonight.”
The eight year old girl’s face lit up. “That’s okay, Santa! My mommy says that we should always take good care of our pets because they depend on us.”
“Your mommy sounds like a very wise woman,” Peter told her. “Now, let me see. You wanted Guitar Hero World Tour, and an Xbox to play it on, right?”
“Uh-huh. Oh, and could you bring a big-screen TV for all my family to share?”
“Santa’ll do his best, honey, but he can’t promise everything.”
“Oh,” the little girl looked wise. “It’s because of the weight allowance on the sleigh, right? Mommy said you have to obey FFA rules now, so I should only ask you for one or two presents.”
Peter couldn’t help a smile as the little girl scampered off. He’d liked that one. It was one of the hidden bonuses of this job, finding that there really were lots of good kids in the world - and good parents. He’d been pleasantly surprised, actually. He’d heard a ton of horror stories about this job, particularly from one of his fellow trainees in Santa Boot Camp - yep, there was actually a boot camp for Santas, and the department store had made him go to it before letting him sit in the Big Chair - but most of that stuff hadn’t happened. Maybe it was because he was working for a department store, rather than a mall, and all the really grumpy or sugar-high kids were inflicted upon them? Anyway, he’d been working this job for two weeks now, and he’d averaged out five impossible wish-lists (sports cars and making siblings disappear), three non-believers and two grumpy kids per day - and he’d only been peed on once! He was having a really good run with the kids.
Peter’s major problem in this job came from another source.
At this rate, by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, he’d have enough cash to not only pay for all his school expenses for the next year, but enough to send all his family’s presents by priority airmail. The sub-let on his New York apartment paid for his living expenses and the part of his tuition that the adult re-entry scholarship didn’t cover, but he had to work to cover the rest. His job as an aide at the nursing home started in the new year, so things were working out nicely. That is, if he could make it through the Christmas season first.
Peter grimaced into his fake beard as he heard the cheeful tinkling of a bell. To be precise, it was the large bell on top of a pointed cap, worn by Cheery Elf.
Yeah, he’d heard a lot of horror stories about the Santa gig. But none of them had been about having a unbelieveably sexy and very jailbait Elf who gave every impression of wanting to get into his red velvet pants.
On his very first day, Cheery Elf - otherwise known as Claire - had told him that she was doing this to fulfil her high school’s compulsory community service program. She’d shown him around Santa’s workshop, as big as a decent size room, with three intricately decorated walls, and a fourth that was shut after closing, to secure the display. There wasn’t a ceiling, allowing the store lighting to be used, but the walls were high enough that when the display was completely shut, it could be used as a changing room - and it usually was, as store management insisted that changing in the bathrooms halfway across the store ruined the illusion. So Claire hadn’t known what he really looked like for the first three days. The third day, Peter had been so fed up with the hot costume that he’d shed the beard, wig, jacket and fake belly as soon as the toy department closed, leaving him in a white wifebeater as he helped Claire shut up shop - sorting the leftover ‘photos with Santa’, stocktaking the candy supply, switching off the electricity to the display, and checking that the animatronic elves hadn’t been vandalised by some kid who didn’t like hearing that Santa couldn’t bring several thousand dollars worth of presents just for him. He’d been taken completely by surprise when Claire had given him an unmistakable ‘you’re hot and I want to have sex with you’ look, and kept giving him that look all through closing.
The next day, Peter had caught himself staring at Claire far too many times than was appropriate, until he’d worked out what was nagging him. Claire’s costume seemed to have shrunk overnight. Nothing that would offend the parents, but when specifically aimed at Santa was enough give him some very naughty thoughts. The pointy-toed ankle boots were the same, as was the matching cap with it’s cheerfully tinkling bell. But the red tights covering those slim, shapely legs seemed to be a little more exposed than before, and that was because the zig-zag hem of the forest green tunic was several inches higher than before. Just enough that when Cheery bent over at the waist, Santa could see that there weren’t any panty lines under the tights. The V-neck of the tunic also lowered a strategic few inches, just enough that when she knelt by the foot of Santa’s throne to present the occupant of Santa’s lap with a complimentary present, Santa could tell what sort of bra she was wearing.
Peter had never realised that there were so many different Christmas-themed bras. He was still puzzled that anyone had thought a bra with cups made to look like Christmas puddings was a good idea. But he’d rather liked the pale green one with embroidered holly leaves and berries trimming the neckline and on the straps (the tunic had slid just a little down one shoulder that night).
Every time Peter reminded himself that even in Texas, having sex with a sixteen year old was illegal, Claire would kneel down and bend forward, with that big smile that won every child’s heart (and made several of their big brothers offer their phone numbers). Every time Peter reminded himself that his going to jail would be ruinous for Nathan’s campaign, Claire would drop something right in front of him and bend over. Every time Peter told himself that child molesters went to the special hell, Claire would stare at him so hungrily he felt like an Advent calendar full of Godiva chocolates, and lick her lips. Closing time was nerve-wracking; if the toy department clerks didn’t stick around for so long after closing, he would have been terrified of Claire jumping him while he was changing.
Peter was starting to think that he was going to be the first Santa to die of blue balls.
*HO*HO*HO*
Claire was starting to think that she was going to be the first Elf to die of sexual frustration. Or was she just twisted?
At the last cheerleading squad sleepover, Claire had found out that she was the only virgin on the squad. She’d quickly made something up - she wasn’t going to be mocked by Jackie, thank you very much - but the stories the other cheerleaders told had made her incredibly curious. Claire was smart enough not to get caught up in some sort of peer-pressure trap - ‘everyone else is doing it’ was no reason to do something she would probably regret later - but she was a teenager. She had as many hormones running through her bloodstream as anyone else, and she really, really, wanted to know what a proper orgasm felt like.
Claire was only working as the department store Elf because she’d been signed up for the community service quota at the last minute, by the same school guidance cousellor who had mistakeningly told her last year that the cheerleading squad’s food drive made her exempt. Personally, Claire thought the jerk was getting kickbacks, because all the others had wound up with one-night-only gigs at the homeless shelter, or the old people’s home, or the pediatric ward at the hospital.
The constant Christmas muzak drove her nuts, her jaw was starting to hurt from constantly smiling, and the costume was incredibly lame (Lyle had threatened to come by and make a video to put up on YouTube. She told him that she had copies of his naked baby pictures, and the email addresses of his entire class). But it really wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She’d never thought of herself as particularly good with children, but the little kids seemed to really like her. Maybe it was kind of dorky, but it felt good to make them happy. She’d made a habit of eavesdropping on the talks with Santa, and whenever she could she’d slip the parents or babysitters a hint about what the kid really wanted beneath the tree. She’d received quite a few silent thank-you’s. There were also some cool side benefits. She was actually getting paid under the table (minimum wage, but better than nothing), she got an official employee discount right through until New Year’s (the after-Christmas sales were going to rock), and she got to raid the Christmas candy bowl whenever she wanted.
Then there was Santa.
The original Santa had been a complete Grinch. Claire had actually reported him to one of the Toy department staff after he’d sent three kids off crying in one day - she hadn’t even known about that little hip flask. His emergency replacement was a really nice guy, and Claire had breathed a sigh of relief. The first few days, he’d beaten her to the store, and he’d already been in full costume when she showed up. But then she’d seen him without all the fake hair and the belly, and nearly swallowed her tongue.
Santa was hot. Actually, he was just about the hottest guy she’d ever seen. By the time they’d finished closing, Claire had decided that the only thing she really wanted for Christmas this year was Peter.
Drawing on six seasons worth of Sex and the City and Jackie’s Cosmopolitan subscription, Claire had set out to seduce her co-worker. So far unsuccessfully. The only reason she hadn’t just given up hope was the way he’d occasionally look at her when he thought she didn’t know. That look fuelled her dreams, dreams when she’d wake up sweaty and panting and desperately wishing she had the nerve to buy a vibrator. The other night, she’d actually gone downstairs to double-check that Peter wasn’t really waiting for her underneath the tree, wearing nothing but a Santa hat.
Claire was starting to think that Peter’s willpower was insurmountable, but she was going to risk death by embarrasment by outright throwing herself at him. She was going to do it tonight, because she knew something Peter didn’t - all the Toy department staff were leaving right after closing for the Christmas party. There was no way he could leave her to close up alone, and by the time they were done, there wasn’t going to be a single other person on this floor.
*HO*HO*HO*
Peter was so occupied sorting out the photos that he’d replied to three people telling him goodnight without even realising it. It wasn’t until the manager of Toys waved in his face that he realised she was the only person there, besides him and Claire.
“Carolyn? Where is everyone?”
The twenty-something brunette laughed. “Peter, you didn’t even notice? It’s the staff Christmas party tonight - sorry, but it’s permanents only.” She looked behind him and asked, “Claire, are you okay to wait for your Mom to pick you up?”
“Sure thing, Carolyn,” came the cheerful reply behind him.
Peter felt a sinking sense of doom. As Carolyn’s footsteps headed towards the escalators, he jumped up and hurried into the display. As soon as he was finished, he’d head to the bathrooms to change. Just as he fastened the top on the candy bowl, the display fell into semi-darkness, and he heard an ominous ‘click’.
He whirled around, to find Claire standing in the corner where the open wall fastened. She was in full costume, except for the hat, and she was looking at him like he was every present from the Twelve days of Christmas rolled into one. Peter sucked in a deep breath, and opened his mouth to say something innocuous enough to break the sudden tension, when Claire spoke. At the sound of her innocently sensual voice, he was lost.
“I’m sorry, Santa, but I’ve been a bad Elf.”
As she wandered toward him, Peter could already feel himself starting to harden.
“I’ve been having very naughty thoughts, Santa.” Claire was standing right next to him now, and when Peter looked into her eyes, he could feel himself fall deeply under her spell.
Claire licked her lips and continued, “When I’m all alone, Santa, I lie back on my bed, and I pull down my tights. I have one of the foot-long, thick, candy canes, just like the ones on the display, and I hold it where the handle meets the stem, and I place the end between my legs. I push it in gently, until it’s all the way inside me, and then I pull it back out slowly. I slide it in again, then I pull it out, again and again, until I’m all hot and wet between my legs and I have to bite my lips so no-one hears me moaning.”
Claire had to take a deep breath. Peter seemed frozen in place, and his pupils were dilated in the gloom. But more than that, he was breathing quickly, and he was looking at her so hungrily, she wanted to rip her clothes off. But she knew that her only shot was to make him so crazy that he forgot all his objections; she needed to make him snap. “But that’s not the really naughty thing. The worst thing, the baddest thing of all, is that I think about you while I’m doing it. I pretend that it’s your candy cane pushing into me as deep as you can, again and again, and making me moan and writhe. I imagine that it’s you sliding back and forth inside me, and when I come, I scream your name into my pillow.”
Peter clenched his hands into fists, to keep kissing her senseless on the spot. His bad little Elf wanted to play, huh? Well, not before he got a little of his own back for the weeks of torture she’d put him through.
“You’ve been a very naughty Elf indeed. You’re going to get a very big lump of coal in your stocking this Christmas.” After two weeks in Santa’s toyshop, he knew the little area by heart; moving swiftly, Peter grabbed her hand, walked two steps backward, and sat down on the big, old-fashioned chair with plump red upholstery. Pulling hard on her hand, Peter had Claire face-down and across his lap before she realised. “Unless you accept your punishment now.”
Claire stared disbelievingly at the floor, and wondered if maybe she’d gotten in over her head. She knew that she’d been cock-teasing him shamelessly, but she hadn’t wanted to make him angry - one of the reasons she was so attracted to Peter was that she really, truly, liked him, and if he genuinely didn’t want her, she didn’t want to lose the friendship they’d developed. “Santa, I-“
“Enough! Do you want to get off the naughty list or not?”
Claire took a deep breath, then lost it as she felt Peter’s hand toying with the hem of her tunic. “Y-yes, Santa. I know I’ve been bad, and I deserve to be punished.”
Her heart hammered as she felt the tunic pulled up over her bottom, and her breath stalled as she felt him tugging at the waistband of her tights. She put her hands on the floor, braced her feet and pushed herself up, until she was suspended over his lap. Her whole body trembled as the tights rolled over her butt and down to the middle of her thighs. The force of his hand on her backside slammed her back down onto his lap, her elbows and knees giving way from the shock.
“Tell me, my naughty Elf,” Peter demanded, “How many nights have you been imagining me as your own personal candy cane?”
“T-twelve.”
“Count the strokes,” and another smack came down on her ass.
“One,” Claire counted breathlessly.
Smack!
“Two.”
Smack!
“Three.”
With every stroke, Claire could feel the impact of his blow travel through her flesh to make her womanhood tingle and throb. She could feel molten heat thickening between her legs, and dazedly wondered if Peter could tell yet. She’d never dreamed that she could get turned on by this - or was it the implicit promise in the punishment? That her submission would be rewarded?
“Twelve,” Claire sighed, and Peter tilted his head to inspect the results of his punishment.
“Your ass is almost as red as your tights,” Peter told her conversationally. He’d been careful not to hit her too hard, but that lucious ass of hers - even smaller and tighter from being bent over his leg - still showed the blows. Wrapping his arms around her body, Peter managed to flip her over so that she was sitting up in his lap, her torso cradled in his arms.
“But now I need to tell you a little secret, my naughty elf.”
Grasping her right hand, Peter placed it directly on the rock-hard erection he’d been sporting since the first time she’d mentioned candy canes. “Santa likes to be naughty, too.” He grinned and caught her lips in a deep kiss. “And if you agree to do some very,” he kissed her again, “very,” kiss, “bad things with him now… he’ll put you on a very special nice list. All of your very own.”
Claire’s whole body was trembling. The red velvet of Peter’s pants was soothing on her stinging bottom, and her core was soaking wet. The hard lump underneath her palm was the most thrilling thing she’d ever felt, and his lingering taste on her tongue made her long for more. She nodded frantically, and Peter kissed her again. This time, his tongue slid into her mouth, and Claire moaned as her own tongue tangled with his. Her fingers convusively tightened on his erection, and Peter groaned into her mouth. Claire felt his fingers brush the back of her neck, beneath her hair, and reached for Peter’s jacket even as she felt the back zipper of her tunic give way.
Peter broke away just far enough to shrug off the unfastened red velvet jacket - he couldn’t bear to wear that stupid fake stomach for any longer than he absolutely had to - and slid off the braces that held up his pants. Claire tried to pull his wifebeater up with one hand, but couldn’t do much more than bunch it up a little.
“You’re going to have to let go of my cock, sweetheart,” Peter murmured in amusement.
“But I like it,” muttered Claire.
“I’m glad of that, but if you really want to have some fun with it, I need to take off my pants.”
Claire made a frustrated noise, but let go. Sliding off his lap, she kicked off her boots and bent over to wriggle the rest of the way out of her tights. She heard another groan come from Peter and grinned happily at him. Facing him, she reached behind her to undo her tunic the rest of the way, when Peter reached out one hand.
“Let me.”
Claire turned and let Peter draw the zipper all the way down, then turned around. As seductively as she could, she slid the short-sleeved tunic off each shoulder, then pulled it down to reveal her red and white striped bra.
Peter snickered and asked, “What is it with you and candy canes?”
“They’re so long and hard,” Claire said in her sexiest voice. “I can suck a candy cane white in less than a minute.”
Peter’s eyes burned, and he told her, “I’ll make you demonstrate tomorrow night.”
Smiling at the words ‘tomorrow night’ and all it implied, Claire quickly unsnapped her bra and slid it off. Peter licked his lips as he stared at her bared breasts and beckoned imperiously. Claire shoved her tunic off her hips and let it hit the floor, then froze, struck by a sudden and paralyzing case of nerves. She’d never been naked in front of a man before.
Peter seemed to sense her problem, because the hard, hungry look on his face softened and an appreciative light came into his eyes. “I’ve never understood people who are finicky about unwrapping presents,” he told her. “Don’t they know that the best stuff comes after you take everything off?”
Claire smiled and blushed a little. With the display closed up, the only light came from above, and with the store closed, only the minimum lights were on. The semi-dark helped her, as did Peter’s praise. Claire watched in fascination as Peter half-stood to let the red velvet pants slide down his legs to the floor, followed by a pair of red boxers. Moving closer, she couldn’t take her eyes off his erection. It was so stiff, reaching up in the air towards her. “You are so much bigger than my candy canes,” she sighed, slipping back into her role for a minute.
Something about the captivated way she stared at his cock made Peter wonder. “Claire, haven’t you seen one before?”
Claire shook her head, reaching down to trail her fingertips lightly down his length. Peter shuddered in reaction, even as the next logical thought entered his mind. She’d seduced him so thoroughly, surely…
“Umm… Claire, you have done this before, haven’t you?”
Claire shook her head, and Peter went still. It was enough to snap Claire out of her semi-trance, and she looked into his eyes with a look of slight alarm.
“I was afraid you’d turn me down if I told you earlier. Please, Peter, I want you - don’t stop now.”
Peter shook his head ruefully. “As if I could. With all your planning, you did bring a condom, right?”
“Oh, right!”
Claire dived into her pile of clothing, and brought out a foil packet with a flourish. She started to sit back on Peter’s lap, when he told her, “Not like that.” Grabbing the backs of her knee with each hand, Peter gently spilt her legs apart and guided her to straddle his lap. “Like this.”
Peter took the packet from her, and asked, “This isn’t candy-striped too, is it?”
Claire giggled and shook her head. “I ordered them off the internet, but my delivery didn’t get here in time.”
Shaking his head and wondering if there were other Christmas-themed condoms, and what the hell was featured on those designs, Peter slid on the condom quickly and efficiently. Grasping Claire’s hips, he lifted her up and forward. “Lower yourself slowly, and I’ll guide myself in.”
Sliding her arms around his neck, Claire obeyed him, looking into his eyes. Peter found her opening easily, and wrapped one arm around her waist to hold his young lover steady as he used the other hand to gently ease the head of his cock into her entrance. Once he was a few inches in, Peter stroked her inner thigh gently, and told her, “Just slide down at your own pace. When it feels uncomfortable, lift up a little and then come down again.”
Claire nodded, and kept staring into his eyes as she slowly slid down his shaft. She stopped halfway down, and winced. “It’s like a band-aid right? Faster’s better?”
Realizing what she meant, Peter nodded. “Just try to stay relaxed, don’t tense up.”
Claire took a deep breath, and Peter could feel her core expand a little around him as she consciously relaxed her muscles. Biting her lip, she lifted herself up a fraction, then slammed down. Peter felt the slight resistance give way, and grunted as Claire took him in to the hilt. God, she felt incredible, hot and wet and so very tight. Firmly reining in the urge to thrust up his hips, Peter stroked Claire’s back soothingly. “You okay?”
“It stings a little, but it’s going away. What do I do now?”
Peter chuckled darkly. “You ride my cock, as hard and fast as you want. You keep sliding up and down it until we both come.”
Claire smiled at him happily, with only a tinge of uncertainty to her voice, as she replied, “Oh, okay. Sounds like fun.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Peter told her. Grasping her hips firmly, he added, “Here, I’ll help steady you.”
Claire nodded, and leaned forward to claim his lips with her own. Peter sighed in contentment as her tongue played with his, which melded to a groan as Claire tentatively started to move. It took a while for them to match their rhthyms - he slipped out of her completely twice, much to their dismay - but once Claire got the hang of it, Peter couldn’t do anything but moan her name as he enjoyed the best sex he’d had in years. He didn’t know whether Claire was naturally talented, if he had a previously-unsuspected taste for the forbidden and scandalous - or if it had just been way too long. He suspected a mix of all three. Then Claire slammed down on him hard and Peter lost all ability to think coherently, as he gritted his teeth with the effort to keep from climaxing. He prided himself on being a considerate lover, and Claire was going to enjoy her first time as much as he could manage.
Claire leaned forward, her arms wrapping around his neck as her hips slowed into a gentle, grinding motion, and Peter’s arms automatically wrapped around her to hold her close. He could feel her breath sweep across the side of his neck, and every millimetre of skin from jaw to collarbone tingled.
“Hmm,” Claire sighed in his ear, “I really love the way it feels when my boobs rub against your chest.”
Peter gave that sexy, I-know-all-sorts-of-wicked-things-to-do-in-the-dark chuckle again, and told her, “So do I. Rub against me harder. Ride me faster. I want to feel you coming on my cock.”
Claire nodded frantically and did just that, until the chair beneath them creaked out a harmony to their groans and sighs. Peter could feel the tension gathering force low along his spine and between his legs, but Claire wasn’t with there him yet. Wrapping his left arm around her lower back, Peter tilted his tiny elf backward slightly, just enough for him to reach down to where they were joined. Gently sliding his fingers against damp skin, until Claire’s arms tightened around his shoulders as her core clamped down on him. At the first flutter of silken inner muscles, Peter felt his last shred of control snap, and his groan of completion blended with the high, sweet sound of Claire keening her release.
Ten minutes later, fully garbed in street clothes, Peter asked, “Is your mother really coming to pick you up - or do you want a ride home?”
“Yes, please,” Claire answered, before she reached out and snuck a handful of the Christmas candy, dropping it in her coat pocket. “So, Santa… did I get off the naughty list?”
Peter gave her his best sexy grin, and replied, “Ask me again tomorrow night.”
Post-Christmas Wrap-up
Every night after closing for the next two weeks, Santa Claus and Cheery Elf did things in Santa’s workshop that should have earned them a whole cellar full of coal - each. But instead, Claire wound up with a sterling silver chain with a lovely cloisonne candy cane pendant, and matching earrings - and Peter wound up with twelve different pairs of Christmas-themed boxer shorts.
Four weeks later, Peter wasn’t at all surprised when Claire showed up as a volunteer at the nursing home he was working at, claiming she was packing the resume for college. Nearly all the patients adored her - and Claire adored the out of the way storage room where she and Peter spent their dinner breaks. She claimed he was even sexier in scrubs than the Santa suit. Peter thought it was too bad that the nursing home volunteers didn’t have to wear a candy striper uniform. Instead, Peter found that internet site Claire got the condoms from and bought Claire a candy-cane-striped vibrator for her birthday. Claire made him watch while she used it.
(Higher being of your choice) rest ye, gentles all, and peace on earth to all those of goodwill.
Hope you enjoy the following, and I'm off to drink some Nog and watch Hogfather again. Happy Hogswatch, and here's hoping for the sake of your stocking that it's not DEATH's night to fill in!
TITLE: How to get off the ‘Naughty’ list
SERIES: Bad porn scenario #2
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
DISCLAIMER: Peter and Claire belong to Tim Kring (who would probably faint dead away if he knew what I did with them!) and NBC.
FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Peter/Claire
RATING / CONTENT: R. Abuse of childhood icons, molestation of candy, spanking. Oh, and one partner under the legal age of consent, although that seems to pale besides the other stuff.
SPOILERS: None. This is AU, pre-series.
SUMMARY: Peter’s working as a department store Santa to pay his way through nursing school. But the biggest problem is his delectable teenage Elf, who wants to do really naughty things with him.
AUTHOUR'S NOTES: would you believe I came up with ANOTHER of these things??? This is not a sequel to ‘Blessings of Saint Christopher’, BTW. Y’know, I’ve only seen half of one porn movie in my life - how do I keep coming up with this stuff?
SOUNDTRACK:I wouldn’t have the temerity to suggest anything! Just not Christmas carols *grin*.
“The things I do to pay for nursing school,” Peter muttered under his breath.
“Santa?”
Peter looked down at the wide-eyed little face, and gave his best merry chuckle. “Sorry, little one. I was just reminding myself to ask Cheery Elf to give the reindeer extra oats tonight.”
The eight year old girl’s face lit up. “That’s okay, Santa! My mommy says that we should always take good care of our pets because they depend on us.”
“Your mommy sounds like a very wise woman,” Peter told her. “Now, let me see. You wanted Guitar Hero World Tour, and an Xbox to play it on, right?”
“Uh-huh. Oh, and could you bring a big-screen TV for all my family to share?”
“Santa’ll do his best, honey, but he can’t promise everything.”
“Oh,” the little girl looked wise. “It’s because of the weight allowance on the sleigh, right? Mommy said you have to obey FFA rules now, so I should only ask you for one or two presents.”
Peter couldn’t help a smile as the little girl scampered off. He’d liked that one. It was one of the hidden bonuses of this job, finding that there really were lots of good kids in the world - and good parents. He’d been pleasantly surprised, actually. He’d heard a ton of horror stories about this job, particularly from one of his fellow trainees in Santa Boot Camp - yep, there was actually a boot camp for Santas, and the department store had made him go to it before letting him sit in the Big Chair - but most of that stuff hadn’t happened. Maybe it was because he was working for a department store, rather than a mall, and all the really grumpy or sugar-high kids were inflicted upon them? Anyway, he’d been working this job for two weeks now, and he’d averaged out five impossible wish-lists (sports cars and making siblings disappear), three non-believers and two grumpy kids per day - and he’d only been peed on once! He was having a really good run with the kids.
Peter’s major problem in this job came from another source.
At this rate, by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, he’d have enough cash to not only pay for all his school expenses for the next year, but enough to send all his family’s presents by priority airmail. The sub-let on his New York apartment paid for his living expenses and the part of his tuition that the adult re-entry scholarship didn’t cover, but he had to work to cover the rest. His job as an aide at the nursing home started in the new year, so things were working out nicely. That is, if he could make it through the Christmas season first.
Peter grimaced into his fake beard as he heard the cheeful tinkling of a bell. To be precise, it was the large bell on top of a pointed cap, worn by Cheery Elf.
Yeah, he’d heard a lot of horror stories about the Santa gig. But none of them had been about having a unbelieveably sexy and very jailbait Elf who gave every impression of wanting to get into his red velvet pants.
On his very first day, Cheery Elf - otherwise known as Claire - had told him that she was doing this to fulfil her high school’s compulsory community service program. She’d shown him around Santa’s workshop, as big as a decent size room, with three intricately decorated walls, and a fourth that was shut after closing, to secure the display. There wasn’t a ceiling, allowing the store lighting to be used, but the walls were high enough that when the display was completely shut, it could be used as a changing room - and it usually was, as store management insisted that changing in the bathrooms halfway across the store ruined the illusion. So Claire hadn’t known what he really looked like for the first three days. The third day, Peter had been so fed up with the hot costume that he’d shed the beard, wig, jacket and fake belly as soon as the toy department closed, leaving him in a white wifebeater as he helped Claire shut up shop - sorting the leftover ‘photos with Santa’, stocktaking the candy supply, switching off the electricity to the display, and checking that the animatronic elves hadn’t been vandalised by some kid who didn’t like hearing that Santa couldn’t bring several thousand dollars worth of presents just for him. He’d been taken completely by surprise when Claire had given him an unmistakable ‘you’re hot and I want to have sex with you’ look, and kept giving him that look all through closing.
The next day, Peter had caught himself staring at Claire far too many times than was appropriate, until he’d worked out what was nagging him. Claire’s costume seemed to have shrunk overnight. Nothing that would offend the parents, but when specifically aimed at Santa was enough give him some very naughty thoughts. The pointy-toed ankle boots were the same, as was the matching cap with it’s cheerfully tinkling bell. But the red tights covering those slim, shapely legs seemed to be a little more exposed than before, and that was because the zig-zag hem of the forest green tunic was several inches higher than before. Just enough that when Cheery bent over at the waist, Santa could see that there weren’t any panty lines under the tights. The V-neck of the tunic also lowered a strategic few inches, just enough that when she knelt by the foot of Santa’s throne to present the occupant of Santa’s lap with a complimentary present, Santa could tell what sort of bra she was wearing.
Peter had never realised that there were so many different Christmas-themed bras. He was still puzzled that anyone had thought a bra with cups made to look like Christmas puddings was a good idea. But he’d rather liked the pale green one with embroidered holly leaves and berries trimming the neckline and on the straps (the tunic had slid just a little down one shoulder that night).
Every time Peter reminded himself that even in Texas, having sex with a sixteen year old was illegal, Claire would kneel down and bend forward, with that big smile that won every child’s heart (and made several of their big brothers offer their phone numbers). Every time Peter reminded himself that his going to jail would be ruinous for Nathan’s campaign, Claire would drop something right in front of him and bend over. Every time Peter told himself that child molesters went to the special hell, Claire would stare at him so hungrily he felt like an Advent calendar full of Godiva chocolates, and lick her lips. Closing time was nerve-wracking; if the toy department clerks didn’t stick around for so long after closing, he would have been terrified of Claire jumping him while he was changing.
Peter was starting to think that he was going to be the first Santa to die of blue balls.
*HO*HO*HO*
Claire was starting to think that she was going to be the first Elf to die of sexual frustration. Or was she just twisted?
At the last cheerleading squad sleepover, Claire had found out that she was the only virgin on the squad. She’d quickly made something up - she wasn’t going to be mocked by Jackie, thank you very much - but the stories the other cheerleaders told had made her incredibly curious. Claire was smart enough not to get caught up in some sort of peer-pressure trap - ‘everyone else is doing it’ was no reason to do something she would probably regret later - but she was a teenager. She had as many hormones running through her bloodstream as anyone else, and she really, really, wanted to know what a proper orgasm felt like.
Claire was only working as the department store Elf because she’d been signed up for the community service quota at the last minute, by the same school guidance cousellor who had mistakeningly told her last year that the cheerleading squad’s food drive made her exempt. Personally, Claire thought the jerk was getting kickbacks, because all the others had wound up with one-night-only gigs at the homeless shelter, or the old people’s home, or the pediatric ward at the hospital.
The constant Christmas muzak drove her nuts, her jaw was starting to hurt from constantly smiling, and the costume was incredibly lame (Lyle had threatened to come by and make a video to put up on YouTube. She told him that she had copies of his naked baby pictures, and the email addresses of his entire class). But it really wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She’d never thought of herself as particularly good with children, but the little kids seemed to really like her. Maybe it was kind of dorky, but it felt good to make them happy. She’d made a habit of eavesdropping on the talks with Santa, and whenever she could she’d slip the parents or babysitters a hint about what the kid really wanted beneath the tree. She’d received quite a few silent thank-you’s. There were also some cool side benefits. She was actually getting paid under the table (minimum wage, but better than nothing), she got an official employee discount right through until New Year’s (the after-Christmas sales were going to rock), and she got to raid the Christmas candy bowl whenever she wanted.
Then there was Santa.
The original Santa had been a complete Grinch. Claire had actually reported him to one of the Toy department staff after he’d sent three kids off crying in one day - she hadn’t even known about that little hip flask. His emergency replacement was a really nice guy, and Claire had breathed a sigh of relief. The first few days, he’d beaten her to the store, and he’d already been in full costume when she showed up. But then she’d seen him without all the fake hair and the belly, and nearly swallowed her tongue.
Santa was hot. Actually, he was just about the hottest guy she’d ever seen. By the time they’d finished closing, Claire had decided that the only thing she really wanted for Christmas this year was Peter.
Drawing on six seasons worth of Sex and the City and Jackie’s Cosmopolitan subscription, Claire had set out to seduce her co-worker. So far unsuccessfully. The only reason she hadn’t just given up hope was the way he’d occasionally look at her when he thought she didn’t know. That look fuelled her dreams, dreams when she’d wake up sweaty and panting and desperately wishing she had the nerve to buy a vibrator. The other night, she’d actually gone downstairs to double-check that Peter wasn’t really waiting for her underneath the tree, wearing nothing but a Santa hat.
Claire was starting to think that Peter’s willpower was insurmountable, but she was going to risk death by embarrasment by outright throwing herself at him. She was going to do it tonight, because she knew something Peter didn’t - all the Toy department staff were leaving right after closing for the Christmas party. There was no way he could leave her to close up alone, and by the time they were done, there wasn’t going to be a single other person on this floor.
*HO*HO*HO*
Peter was so occupied sorting out the photos that he’d replied to three people telling him goodnight without even realising it. It wasn’t until the manager of Toys waved in his face that he realised she was the only person there, besides him and Claire.
“Carolyn? Where is everyone?”
The twenty-something brunette laughed. “Peter, you didn’t even notice? It’s the staff Christmas party tonight - sorry, but it’s permanents only.” She looked behind him and asked, “Claire, are you okay to wait for your Mom to pick you up?”
“Sure thing, Carolyn,” came the cheerful reply behind him.
Peter felt a sinking sense of doom. As Carolyn’s footsteps headed towards the escalators, he jumped up and hurried into the display. As soon as he was finished, he’d head to the bathrooms to change. Just as he fastened the top on the candy bowl, the display fell into semi-darkness, and he heard an ominous ‘click’.
He whirled around, to find Claire standing in the corner where the open wall fastened. She was in full costume, except for the hat, and she was looking at him like he was every present from the Twelve days of Christmas rolled into one. Peter sucked in a deep breath, and opened his mouth to say something innocuous enough to break the sudden tension, when Claire spoke. At the sound of her innocently sensual voice, he was lost.
“I’m sorry, Santa, but I’ve been a bad Elf.”
As she wandered toward him, Peter could already feel himself starting to harden.
“I’ve been having very naughty thoughts, Santa.” Claire was standing right next to him now, and when Peter looked into her eyes, he could feel himself fall deeply under her spell.
Claire licked her lips and continued, “When I’m all alone, Santa, I lie back on my bed, and I pull down my tights. I have one of the foot-long, thick, candy canes, just like the ones on the display, and I hold it where the handle meets the stem, and I place the end between my legs. I push it in gently, until it’s all the way inside me, and then I pull it back out slowly. I slide it in again, then I pull it out, again and again, until I’m all hot and wet between my legs and I have to bite my lips so no-one hears me moaning.”
Claire had to take a deep breath. Peter seemed frozen in place, and his pupils were dilated in the gloom. But more than that, he was breathing quickly, and he was looking at her so hungrily, she wanted to rip her clothes off. But she knew that her only shot was to make him so crazy that he forgot all his objections; she needed to make him snap. “But that’s not the really naughty thing. The worst thing, the baddest thing of all, is that I think about you while I’m doing it. I pretend that it’s your candy cane pushing into me as deep as you can, again and again, and making me moan and writhe. I imagine that it’s you sliding back and forth inside me, and when I come, I scream your name into my pillow.”
Peter clenched his hands into fists, to keep kissing her senseless on the spot. His bad little Elf wanted to play, huh? Well, not before he got a little of his own back for the weeks of torture she’d put him through.
“You’ve been a very naughty Elf indeed. You’re going to get a very big lump of coal in your stocking this Christmas.” After two weeks in Santa’s toyshop, he knew the little area by heart; moving swiftly, Peter grabbed her hand, walked two steps backward, and sat down on the big, old-fashioned chair with plump red upholstery. Pulling hard on her hand, Peter had Claire face-down and across his lap before she realised. “Unless you accept your punishment now.”
Claire stared disbelievingly at the floor, and wondered if maybe she’d gotten in over her head. She knew that she’d been cock-teasing him shamelessly, but she hadn’t wanted to make him angry - one of the reasons she was so attracted to Peter was that she really, truly, liked him, and if he genuinely didn’t want her, she didn’t want to lose the friendship they’d developed. “Santa, I-“
“Enough! Do you want to get off the naughty list or not?”
Claire took a deep breath, then lost it as she felt Peter’s hand toying with the hem of her tunic. “Y-yes, Santa. I know I’ve been bad, and I deserve to be punished.”
Her heart hammered as she felt the tunic pulled up over her bottom, and her breath stalled as she felt him tugging at the waistband of her tights. She put her hands on the floor, braced her feet and pushed herself up, until she was suspended over his lap. Her whole body trembled as the tights rolled over her butt and down to the middle of her thighs. The force of his hand on her backside slammed her back down onto his lap, her elbows and knees giving way from the shock.
“Tell me, my naughty Elf,” Peter demanded, “How many nights have you been imagining me as your own personal candy cane?”
“T-twelve.”
“Count the strokes,” and another smack came down on her ass.
“One,” Claire counted breathlessly.
Smack!
“Two.”
Smack!
“Three.”
With every stroke, Claire could feel the impact of his blow travel through her flesh to make her womanhood tingle and throb. She could feel molten heat thickening between her legs, and dazedly wondered if Peter could tell yet. She’d never dreamed that she could get turned on by this - or was it the implicit promise in the punishment? That her submission would be rewarded?
“Twelve,” Claire sighed, and Peter tilted his head to inspect the results of his punishment.
“Your ass is almost as red as your tights,” Peter told her conversationally. He’d been careful not to hit her too hard, but that lucious ass of hers - even smaller and tighter from being bent over his leg - still showed the blows. Wrapping his arms around her body, Peter managed to flip her over so that she was sitting up in his lap, her torso cradled in his arms.
“But now I need to tell you a little secret, my naughty elf.”
Grasping her right hand, Peter placed it directly on the rock-hard erection he’d been sporting since the first time she’d mentioned candy canes. “Santa likes to be naughty, too.” He grinned and caught her lips in a deep kiss. “And if you agree to do some very,” he kissed her again, “very,” kiss, “bad things with him now… he’ll put you on a very special nice list. All of your very own.”
Claire’s whole body was trembling. The red velvet of Peter’s pants was soothing on her stinging bottom, and her core was soaking wet. The hard lump underneath her palm was the most thrilling thing she’d ever felt, and his lingering taste on her tongue made her long for more. She nodded frantically, and Peter kissed her again. This time, his tongue slid into her mouth, and Claire moaned as her own tongue tangled with his. Her fingers convusively tightened on his erection, and Peter groaned into her mouth. Claire felt his fingers brush the back of her neck, beneath her hair, and reached for Peter’s jacket even as she felt the back zipper of her tunic give way.
Peter broke away just far enough to shrug off the unfastened red velvet jacket - he couldn’t bear to wear that stupid fake stomach for any longer than he absolutely had to - and slid off the braces that held up his pants. Claire tried to pull his wifebeater up with one hand, but couldn’t do much more than bunch it up a little.
“You’re going to have to let go of my cock, sweetheart,” Peter murmured in amusement.
“But I like it,” muttered Claire.
“I’m glad of that, but if you really want to have some fun with it, I need to take off my pants.”
Claire made a frustrated noise, but let go. Sliding off his lap, she kicked off her boots and bent over to wriggle the rest of the way out of her tights. She heard another groan come from Peter and grinned happily at him. Facing him, she reached behind her to undo her tunic the rest of the way, when Peter reached out one hand.
“Let me.”
Claire turned and let Peter draw the zipper all the way down, then turned around. As seductively as she could, she slid the short-sleeved tunic off each shoulder, then pulled it down to reveal her red and white striped bra.
Peter snickered and asked, “What is it with you and candy canes?”
“They’re so long and hard,” Claire said in her sexiest voice. “I can suck a candy cane white in less than a minute.”
Peter’s eyes burned, and he told her, “I’ll make you demonstrate tomorrow night.”
Smiling at the words ‘tomorrow night’ and all it implied, Claire quickly unsnapped her bra and slid it off. Peter licked his lips as he stared at her bared breasts and beckoned imperiously. Claire shoved her tunic off her hips and let it hit the floor, then froze, struck by a sudden and paralyzing case of nerves. She’d never been naked in front of a man before.
Peter seemed to sense her problem, because the hard, hungry look on his face softened and an appreciative light came into his eyes. “I’ve never understood people who are finicky about unwrapping presents,” he told her. “Don’t they know that the best stuff comes after you take everything off?”
Claire smiled and blushed a little. With the display closed up, the only light came from above, and with the store closed, only the minimum lights were on. The semi-dark helped her, as did Peter’s praise. Claire watched in fascination as Peter half-stood to let the red velvet pants slide down his legs to the floor, followed by a pair of red boxers. Moving closer, she couldn’t take her eyes off his erection. It was so stiff, reaching up in the air towards her. “You are so much bigger than my candy canes,” she sighed, slipping back into her role for a minute.
Something about the captivated way she stared at his cock made Peter wonder. “Claire, haven’t you seen one before?”
Claire shook her head, reaching down to trail her fingertips lightly down his length. Peter shuddered in reaction, even as the next logical thought entered his mind. She’d seduced him so thoroughly, surely…
“Umm… Claire, you have done this before, haven’t you?”
Claire shook her head, and Peter went still. It was enough to snap Claire out of her semi-trance, and she looked into his eyes with a look of slight alarm.
“I was afraid you’d turn me down if I told you earlier. Please, Peter, I want you - don’t stop now.”
Peter shook his head ruefully. “As if I could. With all your planning, you did bring a condom, right?”
“Oh, right!”
Claire dived into her pile of clothing, and brought out a foil packet with a flourish. She started to sit back on Peter’s lap, when he told her, “Not like that.” Grabbing the backs of her knee with each hand, Peter gently spilt her legs apart and guided her to straddle his lap. “Like this.”
Peter took the packet from her, and asked, “This isn’t candy-striped too, is it?”
Claire giggled and shook her head. “I ordered them off the internet, but my delivery didn’t get here in time.”
Shaking his head and wondering if there were other Christmas-themed condoms, and what the hell was featured on those designs, Peter slid on the condom quickly and efficiently. Grasping Claire’s hips, he lifted her up and forward. “Lower yourself slowly, and I’ll guide myself in.”
Sliding her arms around his neck, Claire obeyed him, looking into his eyes. Peter found her opening easily, and wrapped one arm around her waist to hold his young lover steady as he used the other hand to gently ease the head of his cock into her entrance. Once he was a few inches in, Peter stroked her inner thigh gently, and told her, “Just slide down at your own pace. When it feels uncomfortable, lift up a little and then come down again.”
Claire nodded, and kept staring into his eyes as she slowly slid down his shaft. She stopped halfway down, and winced. “It’s like a band-aid right? Faster’s better?”
Realizing what she meant, Peter nodded. “Just try to stay relaxed, don’t tense up.”
Claire took a deep breath, and Peter could feel her core expand a little around him as she consciously relaxed her muscles. Biting her lip, she lifted herself up a fraction, then slammed down. Peter felt the slight resistance give way, and grunted as Claire took him in to the hilt. God, she felt incredible, hot and wet and so very tight. Firmly reining in the urge to thrust up his hips, Peter stroked Claire’s back soothingly. “You okay?”
“It stings a little, but it’s going away. What do I do now?”
Peter chuckled darkly. “You ride my cock, as hard and fast as you want. You keep sliding up and down it until we both come.”
Claire smiled at him happily, with only a tinge of uncertainty to her voice, as she replied, “Oh, okay. Sounds like fun.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Peter told her. Grasping her hips firmly, he added, “Here, I’ll help steady you.”
Claire nodded, and leaned forward to claim his lips with her own. Peter sighed in contentment as her tongue played with his, which melded to a groan as Claire tentatively started to move. It took a while for them to match their rhthyms - he slipped out of her completely twice, much to their dismay - but once Claire got the hang of it, Peter couldn’t do anything but moan her name as he enjoyed the best sex he’d had in years. He didn’t know whether Claire was naturally talented, if he had a previously-unsuspected taste for the forbidden and scandalous - or if it had just been way too long. He suspected a mix of all three. Then Claire slammed down on him hard and Peter lost all ability to think coherently, as he gritted his teeth with the effort to keep from climaxing. He prided himself on being a considerate lover, and Claire was going to enjoy her first time as much as he could manage.
Claire leaned forward, her arms wrapping around his neck as her hips slowed into a gentle, grinding motion, and Peter’s arms automatically wrapped around her to hold her close. He could feel her breath sweep across the side of his neck, and every millimetre of skin from jaw to collarbone tingled.
“Hmm,” Claire sighed in his ear, “I really love the way it feels when my boobs rub against your chest.”
Peter gave that sexy, I-know-all-sorts-of-wicked-things-to-do-in-the-dark chuckle again, and told her, “So do I. Rub against me harder. Ride me faster. I want to feel you coming on my cock.”
Claire nodded frantically and did just that, until the chair beneath them creaked out a harmony to their groans and sighs. Peter could feel the tension gathering force low along his spine and between his legs, but Claire wasn’t with there him yet. Wrapping his left arm around her lower back, Peter tilted his tiny elf backward slightly, just enough for him to reach down to where they were joined. Gently sliding his fingers against damp skin, until Claire’s arms tightened around his shoulders as her core clamped down on him. At the first flutter of silken inner muscles, Peter felt his last shred of control snap, and his groan of completion blended with the high, sweet sound of Claire keening her release.
Ten minutes later, fully garbed in street clothes, Peter asked, “Is your mother really coming to pick you up - or do you want a ride home?”
“Yes, please,” Claire answered, before she reached out and snuck a handful of the Christmas candy, dropping it in her coat pocket. “So, Santa… did I get off the naughty list?”
Peter gave her his best sexy grin, and replied, “Ask me again tomorrow night.”
Post-Christmas Wrap-up
Every night after closing for the next two weeks, Santa Claus and Cheery Elf did things in Santa’s workshop that should have earned them a whole cellar full of coal - each. But instead, Claire wound up with a sterling silver chain with a lovely cloisonne candy cane pendant, and matching earrings - and Peter wound up with twelve different pairs of Christmas-themed boxer shorts.
Four weeks later, Peter wasn’t at all surprised when Claire showed up as a volunteer at the nursing home he was working at, claiming she was packing the resume for college. Nearly all the patients adored her - and Claire adored the out of the way storage room where she and Peter spent their dinner breaks. She claimed he was even sexier in scrubs than the Santa suit. Peter thought it was too bad that the nursing home volunteers didn’t have to wear a candy striper uniform. Instead, Peter found that internet site Claire got the condoms from and bought Claire a candy-cane-striped vibrator for her birthday. Claire made him watch while she used it.