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12thhouse-sun · 18 hours ago

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Be Good for Goodness Sake

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Halsin x f! Reader, Halsin x you

Spice Level:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🎄- Picante

Read on Ao3.

Word count: 3,828

Summary: You and Halsin operate the New Reithwin Family Shelter, and are hosting a Christmas Eve party for your resident families. Halsin, ever the good sport, has agreed to play Santa, a role which earns him a most excellent reward.

Was feeling festive and decided to write a sort of spiritual successor to Quickie.

CW: I know the Christmas holidays aren't happy for everyone, so as always, please guard your heart. Also, there are some vague references to families struggling with housing insecurity, finances, etc.

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la,” you sang under your breath as you set one of the long tables in the New Reithwin Family Shelter’s dining room with paper plates and napkin rolls of plasticware, tied with shiny curls of red and green ribbon.

“It all looks wonderful, my love,” came a deep, resonant voice behind you. Halsin took up most of the doorway into the work room where he’d been wrapping gifts. The man looked like a gift himself, wrapped in a cream-colored chunky sweater with bears on it, faded jeans, and worn work boots. His long auburn hair was tied back at the base of his skull with a few escaping tendrils framing a smile that brought a touch of the summer sun to the bleakest of bleak midwinter days.

Your stomach dipped a little to see him, a dictionary definition of the rugged outdoorsman in winter, aglow in the warm red and green and blue and orange Christmas lights he’d spent hours untangling and stringing around the shelter’s dining room.

“I had a lot of help,” you said, slinging one arm around his waist.

“The children will absolutely love it, my heart,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Speaking of,” you said, taking the red velvet sack of presents from him, “hadn’t you better don ye now your gay apparel? Shads and Lae will be back from ice skating with the kids any minute.” Halsin gave you a look that was trying for a glower but ended up as more of a dubious grin.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” he griped as he took the garment bag you offered. Unzipping it, he pulled out a fuzzy, red stocking cap with white faux fur trim and a white furry pom-pom on the end.

“I mean, really. What would the Oak Father say?” he asked, holding the Santa Claus hat between his thumb and forefinger with mild disdain.

“He’d be very proud of you for making a lot of kids from struggling families very happy,” you said, leaning up on tiptoe to plant a lipstick-red kiss on the end of his nose. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him down to meet your kiss. “I know I’m proud of you,” you murmured against his lips. Then, with a mischievous wink, you added, “Daddy Christmas.”

Halsin gave you one of his famous mock growls, the one that made your breath catch in the back of your throat as you pressed your hips against him. “Have you been a good girl this year, my dearest?” he asked, capturing your lips with his. His kiss was like sweet spice that flooded your senses and sent a trickle of desire chasing after the progress his hands made down your back. He pinched your ass playfully, earning a soft squeak from you and an annoyed clearing of a throat from the far end of the room.

Both of you jumped and turned to see Shadowheart, your co-director of programming at the Shelter, stripping her gloves and coat off as she glared at the two of you, still wrapped around each other in a less-than-chaste embrace. “The kids are literally climbing off the bus right now,” she grumbled. No sooner had she finished speaking than a cacophony of whooping and singing spilled down the hallway behind her, only to burst through the double doors of the dining room with the deluge of happy children, still wet from skating, or rather tumbling all over the ice and in the snowbanks. Xan, Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s adopted son led the unruly parade, declaring himself the “Christmas King” as he wrapped his arms around your hips in a surprisingly strong hug for such a small Githyanke boy. Halsin, remarkably light on his feet for a man his size, ducked back into the workroom before anyone could spot him with the festive garment bag.

The children were soon joined by their tired but refreshed-looking parents, who were all happy to have had an afternoon to themselves while the kids were out skating. A Christmas Eve feast of pizzas of all kinds was laid out on the long tables, along with salads, as a nod to nutrition, chips and dips, and other snacks. Though the hungry kids ate lavishly, there was no mistaking the longing in their eyes as they glanced more and more frequently at the dessert table, heaped with brownies, cookies, cakes, candy, pies, and every other kind of sweet imaginable.

With the volume of pizza and goodies consumed, one wouldn’t think the kids would have the energy for running around. One would be wrong about that assumption. As soon as the plates and plasticware were cleared, the kids were everywhere all at once. They played a short-lived game of “Find Santa’s Reindeer,” a version of hide-and-seek, that devolved quickly into the universal, lawless game of chasing each other around until they collapsed, sweaty and huffing, onto the beanbag chairs in the reading corner.

As if on cue, “Santa” emerged from the storage room with Halsin’s jovial “Ho ho ho!” echoing through the dining room. The shriek of joy that erupted from the reading corner was deafening. It was all the parents could do to keep their kiddos from tackling Santa Halsin before he made it to the big wing-backed chair with his sack of presents.

At last, you caught up with Shadowheart, handing her a mug of hot cocoa with some illicit peppermint schnapps in it. She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug, humming appreciatively at its warmth, as she dropped her head onto your shoulder. “He looks good in red,” she mused, taking a big swig of her cocoa and pulling a surprised face when she realized just how much alcohol you’d put in it.

“He does at that,” you smiled, clinking your mug against hers. “They look good, too,” you said, gesturing with your mug toward Xan, who was seated in Lae’zel’s lap. “Happy.”

“I think they are,” she said, smiling warmly at her wife and son.

“Go on, sit with them,” you said, giving her a light push. “I’ll finish up here.” Shadowheart smiled gratefully at you as she sat beside her wife and their son stretched out across their laps.

“Is everyone comfortable?” Halsin boomed, still affecting his even deeper Santa voice, even though it was plainly obvious that while he shared St. Nick’s twinkling eyes and merry dimples, he was missing the little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

By some unspoken agreement, the children had hushed all at once, as if a few moments of silence would make everyone think they’d been on their best behavior and not raising the hells all day. They each took turns sitting on “Santa’s” lap, telling him what they wanted most for Christmas and receiving a Christmas Eve present.

With the panache of a magician, Halsin whipped off his fake beard to reveal, to no one’s surprise, that it was him all along. The kids all giggled, humoring him. With new dollies, teddy bears, fire trucks, and a wide assortment of recently acquired favorite toys, they all settled in while Halsin read “A Visit from St. Nicholas” over a steadily growing chorus of yawns. By the time he uttered, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” most of the children were either asleep or would be soon.

At last the parents and their sleepy kiddos filtered out of the dining room and up to bed. Shadowheart and Lae’zel, with a sleeping Xan draped over her shoulder, hugged you and Halsin and wished you both a happy solstice before heading home.

It was after midnight when the two of you finally got home to the little bungalow you shared. “Is it too late to cuddle by the fire?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Halsin’s waist and burying your face in the faux fur trim running down his chest.

“With you? Never,” he murmured, squeezing you tightly. “Get comfortable, and I’ll get wood for the fire.”

When he shut the front door, you bolted up the stairs to your bedroom. You doubted if his idea of “comfortable” was the same as yours, but you also doubted he’d complain. You’d purposefully emptied the wood boxes inside next to the fireplace and by the front door. That should have bought you enough time to slip into the tiny sheer white negligee with red satin cups, white marabou feather trim, and matching red satin thong panties. A red satin ribbon in your hair completed the look.

You padded silently back down the stairs to find Halsin crouched in front of the fireplace, touching a long match to the twists of paper he’d stuffed between the kindling. He heard you when you stepped on the squeaky third stair and very nearly dropped the still-burning match on the faux bearskin rug in front of the fireplace when he saw you.

He let out a long, low whistle when you stepped into the light of the Christmas tree and gave a little spin, letting the flare of the skirt of your lingerie show off your ass as you turned. “And to think, I had you on my ‘nice’ list this year,” he said, standing to prowl toward you. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his Santa suit before leaving the shelter, but he had unbuttoned the coat and removed the big black belt. The way the growing firelight danced on his bare chest beneath the soft fur trim was mesmerizing.

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “I thought I was being pretty nice with all of this.” You ran your palms up his torso from his navel to his collarbones, slipping them inside the coat and pushing it off his big shoulders. The warmth of his palms spread through the sheer fabric at your waist.

“I had planned on unwrapping my gift slowly,” he continued. “but you haven’t left me very much wrapping to work with.” You arched and rose onto your tiptoes as his strong hands slid up your ribs, dragging the negligee up underneath them. “Very naughty, my heart. I think I’ll need some convincing of how nice you are.”

Without warning, he hoisted you up over his shoulder, making you squeal with laughter. The room spun in a whirl of brightly colored string lights and the flicker from the fireplace as you found yourself bouncing down onto the couch. When you cleared the tangles of your hair out of your eyes to gaze up at him, you were grateful to be already sitting down. He towered over you, the glow from the firelight behind him gilding his hair and muscles with a magical amber glow.

He didn’t give you long to admire the view. Before you knew it, he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, pushing your knees apart with one large palm on each of them, leaning over your vulnerable, spread body to kiss you deeply. “Nice girls don’t kiss like that,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Would you prefer a nice girl tonight?” you murmured against his lips, savoring how his heated breath sped up. “I can be so nice to you,” you went on. Your warm palms skated down his chest, your fingertips bumping over the contours of his pectorals and abdominals. He gasped, and you giggled as you swirled the tip of one finger in the well of his navel before coming to rest at the button closure of the Santa pants. You teased along the edge, your fingers brushing tantalizingly along the plush nap of the velvet and his skin.

“Of that, I have no doubt, my heart,” Halsin said, encircling your wrist with his massive hand and guiding it away. “But I still want to unwrap my gift.” He bowed his head, looking up at you with glowing, hooded eyes before dragging them hungrily down your body. In contrast, he delicately grasped your negligee's feathered trim between his thumbs and forefingers as though it were the most delicate piece of antique lace he’d ever held. With one smooth pull, he guided the garment up, letting the feathered trim tickle the tops of your thighs before nudging you to lean back into the couch cushions and let the sheer, slippery fabric puddle around your natural waist. Those same impossibly gentle fingers traced slowly around the curve of your belly and along the waistband of your panties, mimicking your teasing.

“Out for revenge already, love?” you asked, giggling as he found a ticklish spot low on your abdomen. His low, satisfied hum against the top of your thigh was his only response. He kissed slowly, leaving a trail of wet, increasingly firm kisses and nibbles along your thigh until he reached the rise of your mound, still covered in the red satin spandex of your thong. He held his mouth over the curve of you for a moment, letting the heat from his breath warm the fabric and your skin before his thumbs hooked into the waistband to peel the tiny underwear down your legs. He was eager enough not to worry about how the panties rolled and caught on your ankle as he lifted your other leg out of them with one palm behind your knee. The tender, teasing kisses and bites continued with a maddeningly lazy pace until he reached the juncture of your spread thighs. He drew a long, fat stripe of saliva along your slit with his tongue, slowly building pressure from your entrance until he reached your aching clit. The glowing golden glance he spared at you before opening his mouth wider, tongue out, was devilish. He pulled your lips open with his thumbs on either side before running a rough swipe over your aching bud.

The groan that tore out of your throat was barely human and settled into short bursts of whining sighs as he teased, varying his pace and pattern until your fingers dug into the couch cushions, hips starting to buck and chase after his tantalizing licking and sucking. The heat pooled and swirled along with his tongue, your muscles growing taught as Halsin drew you closer to release. You fisted a handful of his hair and pulled, not enough to hurt, but to get him to look at how desperate your eyes were.

“You may have forever to tease me,” you panted, legs twitching as one of his thick fingers dipped into your channel to replace his mischievous tongue, “but I don’t. Are you going to make me cum before I die?”

You’d meant it as a joke. You were half-laughing, half-panting as you said it. And maybe the tiny shadow that crossed his brow as he looked at you was something you imagined. Though he was roughly 270 years your senior, he still had a long life ahead of him. He hated being reminded that, in comparison, your time on this plane was short. You could just barely see the bob in his throat as he swallowed the sad smile that was fighting for control of the corners of his mouth. His passion won out as the leer crept back over his eyes and lips, still shining in the firelight with their gloss of your arousal.

“Begging me to make you come, heart?” he asked, his voice dipping into that same low growl that made your cunt clench as he slid another finger in to hook into that soft, spongey spot within you. “Very, very naughty,” he murmured, stroking over your g-spot with each word he spoke.

He leaned up on his knees, one hand still flexing and pumping inside you, the thumb drawing tormenting slow circles around and over your clit, while the other hand came up to wrap lightly around your throat. His grip tightened, not enough, nowhere near as much as you wanted, and he pulled you forward just a little, just enough to feel the rumble in his chest as he growled, “Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

Whatever sanity you have left makes its last stand there, and you squeak, “Are you going to put coal in my stocking?” Halsin blinks at you, confused for just a moment before he throws his head back, his full-throated, booming laugh echoing through the living room.

“No, my love,” he said, still chuckling as he released you and got to his feet. “Have you heard the story of the Krampus?”

“The what?” you asked, blinking up at him, confused, as he took your hands and pulled you to your feet.

“A Germanic folk tale. St. Nicholas’s evil counterpart. He rode side by side, punishing the wicked while Claus bestowed his gifts upon the righteous.”

“What do you mean ‘punished?’” you asked, all wide doe eyes as you innocently chewed your lower lip. He sat down on the couch in your spot, knees spread wide, with a positively wicked grin on his face.

“He’d kidnap the naughty boys,” he said slowly, his eyes crawling over you. “And the naughty little girls, too. He’d stuff them in a sack and spank them with a switch.” With a speed and grace that never ceased to amaze you, he lunged forward, capturing you around the waist and pulling you across his lap as you squealed with glee. “Now I don’t have a switch,” he said, yanking the feathered hem of your negligee up over your hips. “Nor do I have a sack I can stuff you in.” His hand roamed over your bare ass, kneading each round globe of your flesh. “But you have been a naughty girl, and I should punish you as best I can.”

Almost before you could register the warmth of his hand leaving your bare skin, you heard the sharp crack of his palm hitting your ass, followed closely by the pain of the impact radiating through you. Your deep groan of satisfaction gave way to a shivering cry with each successive slap of his hand against your already tender skin. He hummed deep in his chest, admiring his work. “Your skin marks so beautifully, my heart,” he murmured, massaging the peppermint pink handprints he’d left on your ass. “But I think you’ve atoned enough. Do you promise to be good?” he asked his hand pausing, the long fingers agonizingly close to the heat of your cunt. All you could manage was an emphatic whimpering nod.

He stood, half-guiding, half-spilling you onto the faux bearskin rug. You rolled onto your back, laughing as he joined you and buried his face in your neck. Soon, he was tearing the feathered, silky negligee off your body as your small fingers worked on the buttons of his pants, shoving the friction-loving fabric down his sweaty hips. As was his custom, he’d foregone underwear, making you giggle.

“Now, who’s the naughty one, Santa?” you laughed, biting down on the sensitive lobe of his ear.

“You love it,” he teased, wriggling his hips and kicking the pants off as he slotted himself between your legs. He caged you in, propping himself up on his elbows planted on either side of your head. Somehow, it still wasn’t close enough. You wanted his weight resting on you, in you, grounding you and keeping you in place. You squirmed eagerly beneath him, gasping with relief when he finally allowed his cock to drag through your sopping wet folds. He had done an excellent job of hiding just how eager he was to plunge his cock into you, but now that he had the fat head of it pressing against your opening, he couldn’t resist pushing in hard and deep. You raked your fingernails down his back as you wailed in surprise and some pain at the sudden stretch of taking fully half of his long, thick, solid cock all at once, but a few deep, gasping breaths brought the pleasure of the sensation back before Halsin could pull his cock out with deep concern furrowing his brow. You slung one leg around his hips and leaned to nip at his lower lip.

He growled into your mouth, kissing you ferociously as he drove himself hard, his thrusts picking up speed until your moans came out in high-pitched whining cries, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit in a way that had you clenching and clenching around him, shoving you toward the shivering momentary oblivion of climax. You let out an anguished cry when he suddenly pulled out of you.

“On your knees, my heart,” he commanded, his big hands all but lifting your hips and turning you. He pushed your head down toward the floor to rest on your elbows before giving your upraised ass one more hard, stinging slap. “So beautiful for me,” he uttered, his words dissolving into a satisfied groan that harmonized with your own when he pushed the head of his cock back into your stretched hole. His angle was deeper, making you keen loudly and fist handfuls of faux fur in your hands when he hilted deeper inside you. His free hand, the one not tangled and pulling your hair, snaked around your hip, the long, skilled fingers sliding mercilessly over your clit as he pumped his hips into yours. It was all you could do to hold on as the pressure behind your sex built and his rhythm started to break down.

His thrusts grew shorter, more erratic, until he swore in elvish, pitching forward over your back as he locked himself deep inside you, shaking with each spasming release. For all of the force of his orgasm, his skilled, circling fingers never stopped, pulling you over the crest of your pleasure only seconds after the first waves of his crashed over him. The two of you shook together, your muscles clenching as he pumped into you once more, trying desperately to hold on to the pleasure as he babbled, “I love you, my gift, my treasure, my heart, my whole heart,” while kissing and licking at the nape of your neck.

When your shaking legs could no longer support your joined weight and your hips dropped, he withdrew and turned you gently, your back toward the warmth of the fire. His thickly muscled arm pillowed your head as your legs entwined and your forehead nestled into the crook of his neck. Halsin hummed contentedly as he stroked your hair, his deep, resonant voice occasionally breaking softly into the old elvish lyrics of the Solstice song he was singing that had been re-written hundreds of times over the years for new ages and new audiences but, somehow, had never lost the magic that had been woven into its original lyrics. Though you weren’t sure, as your eyes closed and you drifted off to sleep, you thought you heard the distant sound of sleigh bells jingling far off in the silent peace of the night.

Tags: @arzen9, @nyx-knox @pursuitseternal @monowritestoomuch

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@gylving @charmandabear @babblebrain-blog @scrapsovereign

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@renyerokami @misscrissfemmefatale @feedthepheasants

@lanafofana @pinkberrytea @spooky-lil-bee @yennefer-of-vengerbergs

~~~

Happy holidays! Hope you enjoyed!

#DAMN MARLOWE #halsin fanfic #halsin smut #mmmmm

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