Page 3 of Santa & His Elf

“No,” I groan. It just slips out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it sounded like a bedroom noise. Like the groans I used to make when I had sex with human women.

A second finger brushes, and I gasp out loud.

He pretends not to notice his effect on me. “Then you need to speak to him today. See what he thinks might be the problem.”

I nod. At least, I think I do. My heart is about to pound itsway out of my chest and attack him for touching me. “Pepper…”

My head elf lifts his hand, and for one blissful moment, I can breathe easy again until he cups the side of my jaw, ignoring my scruff, and chews the corner of his lip as he stares down at me. The world around us ceases to exist. “Please don’t give me excuses. Santa or not, my wagon is hitched to yours, Nick. You might not feel what I feel, but I feel everything you do. When you don’t sleep, that restlessness makes it hard for me to work. Just as it makes it hard for you to work. You must talk to Doc. I need you to get better.” His words are pillowy soft—a mere caress on the night sky, yet their weight settles like a frost giant playing rodeo on my shoulders. If not for myself, I must fix everything for Pepper.

Afraid I’ll sound like a bumbling idiot, I nod.

Grateful for the compliance, Pepper shocks the hell out of me when he leans in and drops a single kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.” He breathes there, lingering.

My cock begins to thicken, wanting more of his… touch.

I…

What…

The…

Spiraling in an abyss of new emotions I don’t understand, I inhale deeply to center myself. Yet Pepper’s scent has other ideas as it invades my senses with an intoxicating dose of spicy vanilla. It’s provocative. Addictive. My eyes slide closed, and I lick my lips, relishing in the heat it evokes. In the raw, almost carnal passion, it tugs from places I didn’t know existed.

Pepper reads my…. whatever this is, and pulls back, severing our connection, but doesn’t step away. For a split second, I almost beg him to sit on my lap. To give me more of his smell. To get on his knees and touch… me.

I’m hard.

Harder than I’ve ever been.

It has been almost a year without sex. However, that doesn’t make sense why this is happening now, with him, of all beings.

I dust those thoughts to the side to sift through later and refocus on him.

Still disoriented, I blink, breathe, and blink some more before I can pluck words from the fog I’m battling.

Patient, as always, he stuffs his hands into his PJ pockets and waits.

“Pepper.” I clear my throat. “Why don’t you lie down on my sofa for a while? Then we’ll see Doc together once the village wakes up.”

He smiles—a tired one. It’s beautiful, nonetheless. White teeth and rosy cheeks. A slight kick at the corner of his lip. It’s a gift. One I don’t deserve but bask in anyhow. It fuels me to get up from my chair and discretely adjust myself before I walk with him over to the couch, where he lies down, and I tuck a plush blanket around his body.

Not wanting this to end on a topsy-turvy note, I kneel on the floor and kiss his cheek. “Sweet dreams, Pepper.”

He snuggles his face against the pillow, eyelids fluttering between sleepy and awake—like an angel with silken hair and the cutest nose. “Thank you, Nick.”

Another smile surfaces before he succumbs to exhaustion. I take it into myself, tie it up with a glittery bow, and store it beneath my inner Christmas tree to visit later when I deserve to open the present, when I’ve earned it.

two

?. . .?

Pepper holdsthe frosted glass door to Doc’s medical office open from the inside and waves me in from the cold. As with most things in Santa’s Village, he booked the appointment and prepared everyone for my arrival. It’s not every day you see Santa in this part of the village. Like celebrities in the human world, I’m treated similarly here. But it’s not for things like autographs or selfies. The elves love wishing me well and always want to shake my hand or offer assistance. While I’m blessed to have thousands of willing helpers, I hate being the center of attention. I know that’s not the best way to feel when you’re Santa. That’s just another difference between me and my father. He basked in the attention that fueled his ego when all it gives me is anxiety.

Inside the simple office is exactly how I remember it as a kid—white walls, red floors, matching red plastic seats, a tall Christmas tree covered in edible candy canes, and a small collection of toys in the corner for children. When you’re Santa’s child, you get the star treatment, but nothingcompares to becoming the man himself. The chairs hugging both walls are filled with elves, a dozen or so. They smile and wave in greeting. I do my best to return their kindness as I follow Pepper through the space, past the red reception desk, and into one of the two exam rooms—my exam room. The one reserved for Santa and his family.

In his signature white coat, Doc mills about, humming to himself when we arrive. Pepper shuts the door in my wake and places himself in front of it to block any nosy nellies as I sit in the only chair made for a man my size. It’s red like those out front.

When Doc turns from washing his hands in the sink, he shakes my hand and smiles, as he always does. It’s genuine, well-aged, and full of crooked teeth.

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