Title: Naughty
Rating: MA (Mature/18+) – spicier than a candy cane dipped in cinnamon, folks.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Modern AU

Summary: The "naughty" half of my "Naughty and Nice" anthology series. Unconnected OneShots with a sexy holiday theme, alternating between Regency and Modern AU. For mature readers only.

He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows when you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake

He Knows When You've Been Bad
2019

"When will Santa Claus get here?"

"Not until you're asleep. Close your eyes," Will replied, pulling the hot pink fleece blanket up to his six-year-old daughter's chin. Annie was adorable, of course, with her mother's cocoa brown curls fluffed out upon her pillow and her big green eyes twinkling at him above her covers, but he was too exhausted after an interminably long Christmas Eve dinner at his Grinchy Aunt Cathy's house to fully appreciate it. Now he just wanted her to go to sleep so that he could go downstairs and enjoy a glass of wine with Liz before putting out the gifts. Or maybe to throw that creepy elf thing in the fire; he could buy a new one next year and the kids would never know.

"Did you put out the cookies?" Annie sat up suddenly as if she were about to get out of bed and go check herself.

Will gently pressed her back down, folding her favorite stuffed frog into the crook of her arm, and shushed her. When the blanket was back in place, he placated, "Mama's putting them out now, Sweetling."

"And carrots for the reindeer?"

"Of course."

"Almond milk?"

Will quirked the same eyebrow his wife utilized so frequently and, though he knew better than to get his child started on what was sure to be a lengthy explanation so close to bedtime, couldn't help but ask, "Almond milk?"

Annie yawned – thank Kris Kringle for that Christmas miracle – and snuggled Carlos' fuzzy green head. "For his tummy. All those cookies make it upset cuz of all the red dye in the sprinkles and the carb overload."

"Is that so?"

"Just like Auntie Carrie."

"And the almond milk helps?"

"Duh, Daddy."

O...kay. Well, kid logic was like comic book science; it worked because they said it did. "How silly of me. Now, go to sleep. When you wake up, it will be Christmas!"

"Night Daddy."

A soft kiss on the forehead for his precious girl. "Night, Pumpkin."

Will flicked the lights off on his way out the door, Annie's shimmering aurora night light glowing against the walls and ceiling as he closed it behind him.

"Finally," Liz complained in a hissing whisper. She was leaning against the wall next to their son's room, her deep burgundy blouse gaping open at the top to reveal the white lace-trimmed camisole underneath. She knew that thing drove him crazy. "I thought you were going to be in there all night and leave all the Christmas Magic to me."

Will smirked and kissed his wife, soft and slow. When he withdrew, he murmured against her temple, loose wisps of her hair tickling his nose with each word. "I'll give you some 'Christmas Magic.'"

Liz laughed hoarsely and shoved him playfully away, simultaneously rolling her holly-green eyes upward. "You're kidding, right? After spending the day at your family's house fighting with Cathy and reminding Rick a thousand times to keep his stories G-rated for the kids, you're in the mood? You're crazy."

As she brushed past him on the way to the stairs and began her descent, Will snorted at her back. He was two steps behind her as he said, "I'm always in the mood."

"I'm in the mood for bed – and not in the sexy way," Liz countered as her feet landed on the lower floor. "But first, go get the stuff from the back of the car and let's get this over with."

Will was not yet deterred. "Okay, but then a glass of wine."

"Fine. Now go get the stuff."

Half an hour later, Santa Claus had visited the Darcy household and left behind a ridiculous number of gifts for only two kids who had been mostly good all year round. There were a few slip ups with bossy Annie failing to share properly and little three-year-old Tommy back-sassing his elders (Liz had usually found it hilarious, which wasn't helping the problem), but they were as deserving as any two rugrats ever could be. Annie might be a little spoiled and Tommy had a bit of a smart mouth, but they were also helpful when the opportunity arose (their ability to actually accomplish a task without making a mess notwithstanding) and knew exactly when to turn on the charm whenever someone needed a hug. Will didn't regret spending a stupid amount of money to keep the magic of Christmas alive for them another year and he probably wouldn't think twice about it the next, either. Even if come morning they only played with the wrapping.

Now that their duties as Santa Claus had been dispatched, Will sat back on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and his wife cuddled up to his side under the arm of the other. Liz sipped slowly at her Big People Juice as they both stared into the fireplace, watching the gas-fed flames flicker in a room that was otherwise dark except for the multi-colored Christmas lights on the tree in the corner. The ambiance was warm and soothing, potentially romantic if Will could convince Liz to shake off her holiday fatigue, but there was one thing that spoiled the scene.

"I hate that fucking elf," he declared into the peacefully silent night, glaring at the unsettling plastic face staring at him from the mantle. It's skinny, cheaply stitched body leaned haphazardly against a tall, cranberry scented candle with its spindly arms crossed over its lap. The cursed thing was watching them, practically daring Will to make his move so that it could report a scandalous seduction to the Big Man up at the North Pole, a judging jolly smile carved into its rosy cheeks.

He felt as much as heard Liz laugh in response, her shoulders bobbing up and down with each spasm of humor. "His name is 'Snowflake,' according to Annie, and I think all parents hate Elf on the Shelf. Whoever thought of it was a real bastard – and probably richer even than us."

"Quite possibly," Will admitted, pausing to kiss his wife atop her head. "It's a conspiracy! You always think that you just won't do it for your kids, that all the other parents out there are suckers, but the second Annie came back from preschool crying that Santa wasn't coming because we didn't have an elf representative in our house we were sunk. The worst part is how it watches us – which is, of course, the entire point."

"And here I thought you put Snowflake in the freezer because you were being clever."

Darcy snorted and sipped his wine. "I just didn't want it staring at me any longer."

"Like you're one to judge about staring, William Darcy!" Liz accused playfully, swatting at him a little tipsily. Will didn't know exactly which part of him she was aiming for, but she missed it by a mile and hit the throw pillow on his other side instead. "You used to watch me so closely I kept checking my teeth for spinach! I seriously had no idea you were into me until you asked me out – and even then I wasn't so convinced, if you recall."

Skipping over that reminder of what an asshole he'd been before they'd successfully hooked up, he mocked up an affronted tone and scolded, "You did not just compare me to that creepy Elf on the Shelf."

"I so did."

"I want a divorce."

"Then you should have gotten me to sign the prenup. I'm too expensive to get rid of."

"Damn."

Will pulled Liz closer and she obligingly tucked her head beneath his chin so that he could nuzzle at the soft nest of loose curls at her crown. He allowed his hand to venture southward at a creeping pace and only halted when he was cupping the crest of her hip through the thin material of her forest-hued leggings. Once in this enviable position, Will began kneading gently.

"Please," he begged the universe from within the confines of his alcohol- and lust-saturated mind, "all I want for Christmas is a little nookie."

From across the room, Will could have sworn that that creepy elf's eye twinkled. Must be a stray piece of glitter; all the holiday decorations were lousy with the stuff (as was now their carpet).

"You know," Liz said after a silence of some minutes, her own fingers walking themselves up his leg in a taunting gait; he shivered as she skimmed past the portion of his anatomy he wished she'd stopped at, "considering that pile over there, it couldn't have seen everything. Remember what almost happened in the kitchen a couple weeks ago…?"

Though his concentration was a little fuzzy now that her naughty wandering fingers were prying his shirt buttons free of their holes, Will had no trouble recalling that sexy little interlude on the kitchen island earlier in the month. If Georgia hadn't brought Annie and Tommy home at the worst moment possible, that unnerving little fucker on the mantle would have had a doozy of a story to report back to the mothership. Or whatever.

"You know," Will commented as casually as he was capable with a voice thickened with mounting desire, "since Santa already came this year and there's a strict no return policy at the North Pole, maybe we could pick up where we left off."

Liz sat upright to look at him directly, both of her eyebrows raised high upon her forehead and her lips quirked in a naughty grin. "Why, Mr Darcy, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting, Mrs Darcy, that I rip your clothes off and fuck you in front of the Christmas tree."

Will drained the last of the Big People Juice out of his glass and set it on the end table closest to himself before reaching over and plucking Liz's from her willing fingers and setting it with its twin. He then utilized his newly empty hands to draw his wife closer, burying them deeply in the curly mass of her hair. She followed the suggested trajectory and their lips met feverishly at the halfway point between their bodies.

He'd known that Liz's absolute refusal would be negotiable after a little alcoholic persuasion; her tolerance for even a single glass of Merlot was much lower since having kids and she was frisky when tipsy. She said that it made her feel pleasantly tingly all over, like when Will teased her with tickling kisses down the slope of her neck – much as he was doing now. He nibbled at the sweet-smelling flesh beneath her earlobe and allowed himself a proud smirk when she moaned in response.

It wasn't in Liz's nature to be passive in anything and their sex life was no exception to this general rule. While Will kept himself busy with licks and nips at her throat, Liz's hands were roaming free of restraint down the front of his torso, loosening the few remaining buttons on her way down. When she'd successfully freed the last one, her fingers found their way beneath the evergreen fabric and skimmed deliciously ticklish trails across his flesh. He shuddered when her fingernails dug in and scraped down his spine.

Will moved his mouth back up to kiss Liz as he simultaneously pressed her backwards into the cushions of the couch, baring down on her with his weight to accomplish this goal. Her knees parted, inviting him between them, and he accepted gratefully, grinding his hips within the cradle of hers. The hardening bulge within his charcoal gray trousers strained for release when it encountered the heat of Liz's apex; after so many years of loving this woman, it felt like being invited home.

"Will…," she whimpered before a sharp gasp of pleasure cut off further speech. Will grinned against her lips and rubbed more vigorously, earning a deep moan.

Just as his hands were venturing beneath the hem of Liz's lacy camisole, a soft shuffling noise caused Will to freeze solid. Seconds later, from behind the back of the couch, he heard a sweet little voice call out above the sound of their fevered panting, "Santa? Is that you?"

Shit! Annie was out of bed and hunting for Santa Claus. Will peeked over his shoulder and glared at that smug plastic face, thinking, "You little bastard! I'll just bet you lured Georgia home early last week, too. Fucking tattletale."

Beneath him, Liz was biting her lips together in a transparent effort to keep herself from laughing aloud at their predicament. Typical – she always found humor in the most awkward situations. And damn if he didn't want her more when her eyes sparkled like that.

With a throaty cough to clear his roughened voice, Will ducked his head lower and called out in the highest pitch he could manage, "Annie, what are you doing out of bed? If you don't go back upstairs right now I'm going to call Santa to take all those presents back up the chimney!"

A horrified squeak sounded from where Will knew the base of the staircase to be and he silently prayed that Annie would scurry back upstairs without investigating any further into the room. That would be the easiest way to ruin Christmas for all of them.

"I'm sorry, Snowflake! I'll go back to bed right now!" Annie's voice grew fainter the further her pattering footsteps took her from the room. "Don't tell Santa!"

As if a herd of polar bears had invaded their upper floor, there was a thundering sound above their heads, the panicked slam of a door, a squeal of bed springs and blessed silence. Will sighed deeply and bowed his head in relief as Liz began to alternately giggle and hiccup under him. "This is not funny."

"I disagree!" Liz buried her face against the bare portion of Will's chest, practically vibrating with merriment. "I think you mimicking an elf to prevent our daughter from catching us jingling our bells is very funny."

"'Jingling our bells'?"

"I just made it up. You like it?"

"It's very festive." Will simultaneously laughed and rolled his eyes as his wife submitted to another fit of irreverent giggles. Oh yeah, she was toasted. "Come on, let's go upstairs to pick up where we left off. I don't trust that little backstabber not to give us away again."

Liz leaned back, still grinning, to tilt her head at him in that enchantingly curious way that had grabbed his attention all those years ago. "Who?"

Will jerked his thumb in the direction of the mantle. "The elf!"

"Snowflake?"

"And I thought I was drunk," Liz quipped, pressing her palms flat against his lower abdomen to push him backwards. Will allowed her to direct him away and leaned back on his haunches to let her up off the couch, his dark green shirt still hanging open to reveal his entire torso. "Come on then, if you're so paranoid."

As Liz got up from the couch, teetering slightly before gaining her balance, she held out her hand for him to take and he accepted it, following her from the family room linked together. As they crossed the threshold into the foyer where they would mount the staircase, Will paused long enough to glare suspiciously at the elf one last time. That same errant piece of glitter twinkled back cheekily.

"Bah Humbug, you sneaky little fucker."

Author's Note: I know, you're thinking that I'm crazy to be starting another project, but honestly my Naughty/Nice Anthologies are just a place to dump all the small holiday-themed ideas that I can't chase away. Plus, I'll only update it whenever I have one to share, so there's no pressure to come up with chapters.

In any event, the concept here is pretty simple: a mixture of Modern AU and Regency JAFF holiday OneShots which will be occasionally connected to one another (or even possibly one of my other stories), but usually not. Unless specified otherwise, each installment stands alone within its own little self contained universe. As I said above, I'm going to alternate between MAU and Regency settings, not necessarily in a discernible pattern, though I'm going to aim for an even spread. I've also separated my anthology into separate "Naughty" and "Nice" categories since I know that most JAFF readers have strong preferences one way or the other and this will enable everyone to choose their level of "holiday spice." In the "Naughty" category, the rating will always be M or MA; T/PG-13 and below can be found in "Nice."

I spent the entire time I was writing this snickering like an immature idiot. For the record, my household doesn't do Elf on the Shelf, but I suspect that's only because my kids are three and one and don't know any better. Yet. I'm not looking forward to it because I agree with Darcy; creepy as fuck.

If you think of a theme/idea that sounds fun (for either MAU or Regency), feel free to drop it into your review. Can't promise that I'll do anything with it, but I love prompts and feel generous around the holidays.

Happy Holidays!

– MrsMarySmythe