Page 12 of Santa & His Elf

And that’s that.

Setting my elf on his feet, I wrap an arm around his shoulders.

It’s time to go home.

It’s time for sleep.

three

?. . .?

In a cream bedroomthe size of a small house burnished in gold with touches of green woven throughout, I spread out on my king-sized sleigh bed—only the best for Santa and his family. This was the room I was forbidden to enter as a child—my mother’s chambers. A place she went to unwind from the duties of our world. To curl up with a book on the ivory, claw-foot couch in front of the tall fireplace flanked by ornately carved ten-foot toy soldiers. My father’s former room is far too ridiculous for me to consider living there. For now, this will do until Pepper decides how he wants our home decorated.

Beside me, my head elf lies, staring at the intricate, forest-painted ceiling. Together, we’re doing a bang-up job pretending this is normal and not at all awkward.

Sleep is the goal.

We’re here to sleep, per Doc’s orders.

“I can’t believe your father’s bedroom is full of Santas,” Pepper says.

I snort a quiet laugh.

After I gave him a quick home tour, we visited that bedroom first—only to open the door, turn on the light, and slowly back away in horror.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that my father surrounded himself with statues and images of himself. My father’s ego is as big as the world itself. The more he served and brought joy to others, the more he took that into himself, and with it grew his untouchable pedestal. The pedestal not only he but my mother and all the elves placed him on. Perhaps that is the way of the Elven society. To treat him as a God. With my mother being an elf herself, I suppose it makes sense to keep Santa happy and build his ego on a lie—that he’s somehow special because a tree chose him. My sister, Holly, and I are the only two who never fell for the rhetoric. My father’s a man. An immortal or nearly immortal man, but a man, nonetheless. With him comes flaws. Human flaws.

“Do you want us to keep this room or change that one since it’s bigger?” I ask.

It also has a better view with its wraparound, third-story porch overlooking the village below. My father’s lead architect thought of everything. From the heated porch floor to keep any snow from collecting to the automatic shutters over the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything’s far more forward-thinking in his room than here. My mother’s room encompasses the old times—grand in size and beauty but classic in its warmth and lack of technology.

“You’re asking me?” he squeaks.

I chuckle at Pepper’s surprise. “Of course, I am. You’re my husband, are you not?”

He fidgets next to me. “I-I… I suppose I am.”

“Then I want you to redecorate this house however yousee fit, as long as you promise to burn everything in the other room.”

Sliding his hand closer to mine across the bed, Pepper titters in his cute, elvish way as his fingers brush against mine. Swallowing hard, my gut tightens, and my cock twitches at the unassuming touch. The harder I become, the more I sense him. The vanilla perfumes the air. The warmth of his skin. The electrical current sparks between us like little zaps of pleasure shooting straight to my groin.

Pepper groans a broken, needy sound. My nuts grow heavy as they begin to ache.

“Nick,” he gasps.

“I know.”

“I…”

“Pepper, I know.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I will my cock to go down, and for this… magically-eating-fruit and wanting-to-fuck-the-Christmas-out-of-Pepper issue to go far, far away. Only it doesn’t. The desire grows, and my nipples ache to be sucked on. My asshole clenches again. Why? I don’t have a single clue.

Pepper pants beside me, his body writhing in the bed, kicking at the covers. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the outline of his dick in his pajama bottoms straining to be set free. My mouth waters, wanting to know how it tastes, if his asshole is as sweet as I remember, and how about his cum? Is it tasty, too?

“Nick.” Pepper grips my hand firmly as his entire body begins to shake. A whine rips from his throat, and I can’t take it anymore. The need to take care of him, to put him out of his poor, wanton misery, hits me full force. Knowing what needs to be done, I rip my bottoms down to my knees, freeing my cock.

“Take off your pants and ride me, now,” I order, to give him a chance to take my dick for the first time at his own pace. However it works for him. The last thing I want is to hurt him or force something he doesn’t like. If he’s on top, he can draw whatever pleasure is needed into his body using mine.

Standing on the bed, Pepper removes every stitch of clothing in a blur and throws them onto the floor. Not needing to be told twice, he straddles my hips, grabs my erection, and impales himself on me.

---