"Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me,
Been an awful good girl,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight..."
—Santa Baby
Eartha Kitt
Betelgeuse had spent most of his night between laying with his wife and grumbling at the round, fat man that invaded his house at midnight. Seemed he could only come if you believed in him. Betel resigned himself to the idea of seeing this guy once a year for quite some time. His own gifts, carefully wrapped and placed in front of those from the jolly intruder, were numerous and personalized.
He had just started to fall asleep when Lydia was shaking him awake and urging him downstairs. He took his time, making a pot of coffee and pouring eggnog into it. Festive.
He is real.
He chuckled softly. "And how do you know that I didn't do all this? Huh? I'll have you know that I got ya the makeup. He just brought the treats."
He flopped down onto the couch, sipping his coffee slowly. "Well? This is all you, babes. All fer you or the twins, and they can't exactly open their own gifts, can they?"
"Right, and you gave yourself a stocking full of coal?" She jabbed back, now completely convinced in Saint Nick's existence.
"Don't worry, Santa," she whispered under her breath, looking up to the ceiling with wide, hopeful eyes as though conversing with God himself, clutching the makeup close to her chest, "I know it was you."
On hands and knees, she crawled to the edge of the tree to begin unwrapping presents, a secretive smirk curling her lips. Betelgeuse had at least one present, but she would let him keep thinking he was in the clear if that was what gave him joy. She worked through the ones for the girls first, showing them each trinket as she went though for the most part they were unfazed, jade and honey eyes glazing over the many, many things they probably didn't realize were theirs.
"You're going to be so spoiled," Lydia giggled, adding yet another cushy stuffed animal to their growing pile. A gift striped with red and green caught her attention. It came with a personalized note, and she grinned further at the contents therein. That surely was not her husband's handwriting.
To: Beetlejuice
From: Santa Claus
Enjoy the wait for Spring, and thanks for the snow. It's been lovely.
"Beej," she sing-songed, waving the gift his way, "look who has a present from Santa!"
Betelgeuse was more than happy to sit back and let his wife open presents. He'd bought her a new sewing machine, fancier than the one she borrowed from Ginger, and several bolts of rich, soft materials in everything from silk to wool. He looked up from his coffee when she held up the gift, then sighed and held out his hand for it.
"Well. Look at that... Sandy's an asshole." He tossed the note into the fire and pulled open the gift.
For a long while, he stared. Handcuffs. Santa had given him... handcuffs. Beneath them was another note. "Be careful! These resist magic!" Shaking his head, he cackled at the absurdity.
"Jesus Christ, it's like he knows we can't fuck for another month!"
Lydia watched him unwrap his gift with interest. She had found it incredibly difficult to shop for him and was dying to see what Santa brought him. All of her presents for him were smuggled away upstairs still. She meant to hide them under the tree yesterday, but he hadn't given her an opportunity.
Handcuffs?
Blushing, Lydia trudged closer on her knees until she was kneeling before him, snatching up the other note before he could burn it. Resist magic?
"Aww Beej. I'm sorry! You only get one present from Santa and it's something for me to use."
Sweet and sympathetic, she laid her head in his lap, pressing a lingering kiss to his inner thigh.
"You know… just because we can't have sex-sex doesn't mean we can't do… other things."
Another kiss to punctuate her meaning was placed higher up his thigh this time before she pulled back entirely to return to gift unwrapping. It wouldn't do to get him too excited. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable servicing him like that in front of the babies anyway… but it would probably be fine if they ended up messing around in their presence.
Along with the fancy new sewing machine, she also got a state of the art digital camera, a new laptop to replace the one that was confiscated by the police following her disappearance from the living realm, a Gameboy that came with several games including the newest generation of Pokémon, and a white-gold and emerald bracelet in the shape of a snake. These were just the highlights of the haul, of which there were countless thoughtful treasures.
Finally, she was done, a mountain of wrapping paper shoved off to the side and the twins asleep in a pile of stuffed animals and plush blankies.
"Beej," she gushed, linking the lovely bracelet around her wrist. The emeralds were lovely and fetching next to the deep red of her pajamas, providing a festive aesthetic. "Nothing I got you is half as good as any of this stuff…"
A tiny smirk accompanied the side-glance she shifted his way, the girl excited to see her husband's reaction to the revelation that yes, he had presents.
His breath hitched when she pressed her lips to his thigh. He growled softly, his hand holding her head there just a moment before he freed her. "Just remember. The more you tease, the less I hold back when yer all healed up."
Her gentle teasing was going to be the death of him. Leaning down to kiss her firmly, he silently cursed and thanked Sandy Claws at the same time. He sat back and smiled as they opened gifts, holding Ivy when she started to fuss, then putting her back when she complained about being away from her sister. Women.
The mention of gifts for him startled him. Raising an eyebrow, he pulled his wife into his lap to rub a large hand over her back.
"You didn't have to get me anything. This Christmas was supposed to be about my girls." He nuzzled into her gently. "I'm sure they're great, though. Lemme see 'em."
Brimming with excitement, Lydia pulled him along upstairs to her sewing room, trusting Tilly to watch over the sleeping babes.
"I wanted to get it all under the tree yesterday, but you wouldn't give me a minute alone."
They were all stuffed in the closet with the rest of her bolts of fabric and half-finished creations, a place she knew Betelgeuse wouldn't have any interest in venturing. First, she pulled out three small wrapped boxes, each in varying shapes.
"This isn't all of it. The last one is in the closet still, but I want you to open these first. It's not much… but…"
He was already ripped into them eagerly, and Lydia bit her lip hard, extremely nervous. She had never given him a tangible gift before. He had everything. Would he even find any use in these things? They were so sentimental and sappy.
The first box contained a heavy brass locket, polished to perfection. The chain was long and sturdy, so he could hide it beneath his jacket when worn. The face of the locket boasted an intricately carved firefly— a type of beetle— atop a bed of swirling woven metalwork. Inside were clipped photos of both Holly and Ivy lost in peaceful slumber. Lydia had bought it while pregnant with intent to put a photo of herself and her child in the frames, but with the arrival of the twins, cutting herself out seemed more appropriate.
Inside the second gift box was an aged flask. Whatever metal it was made of used to be silver in color, but no amount of cleaning or polishing had been able to remove the bronze tarnish that came with age. Lydia thought it suited him. A smooth round ball made up the clasp and an imprint of a twining serpent decorated the front, its mouth open wide, fangs ready to strike. The flask itself was already full, and when he opened it to take a whiff she informed him that it was Vietnamese-style snake wine she bought from an odd little shop in the mall full of oddities.
The last gift looked ordinary on the face of it. It was just a watch, antique and expensive looking like the other gifts, with hands and numbers that resembled any other living world watch.
"To replace the one you gave me," Lydia fidgeted as he inspected it. "Check the back."
Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.
Yours Eternally,
—Lydia
"The quote isn't mine," she added in a humbled rush as he continued to stare at the engraved words, still silent. "It's Poe. I couldn't think of anything… good enough. Do you like it?"
Each of the gifts was so personalized and beautiful that he was nearly moved to tears. The locket was immediately put around his neck, the photos of his daughters hanging just over his long-still heart.
He took a swig from the flash, his ears steaming and his head spinning at the sour, odd taste of the wine. "Woah! That stuff packs a punch!"
He turned the watch over in his hands, his breath catching as he read the inscription. "It's perfect. Poe is perfect... ya know I used to call ya Poe's daughter? Maybe ya did..."
He grinned and pulled her into a deep kiss, pulling her into his lap. "You're so good at this... my gifts look like shit now! How can there possibly be more? This is so... perfect."
He put his hand over the locket and closed his eyes a moment, his chest welling with emotion. "I don't deserve this... I don't deserve you, or our daughters or... or this perfect life..."
Ya know I used to call ya Poe's daughter? Maybe ya did…
"I didn't," she grinned at the charming coincidence. That was a cute thing to call her. She checked this onto the list of reasons why Adam and Barbara never told her anything about him. She would have been decidedly flattered if they let her in on this little tidbit, more than they would have approved of.
Speaking of Mr. and Mrs. Maitland, they would surely be calling any minute now to request a poofing seeing as everyone was snowed in. They would let missing Christmas Eve with their daughter and granddaughters fly, but not Christmas Day.
"Nooo," she disagreed with the derision of his many, many gifts, nuzzling their noses together and pressing light, fleeting kisses across his stubbly mug. "You deserve it all and more. I loved all of my presents, every last one." She pulled away to let him see her serious expression. "Beej. Baby. You don't even know. I'm going to spend all my time on that laptop or playing with the Gameboy. It's gonna be annoying, you're going to regret getting that for me. Now close your eyes, I didn't wrap the last one."
Once he obeyed, she slunk off his lap to roll the mannequin out of the closet. It had been a difficult process sneaking this one finished without letting him see, but it was done and Lydia was exceedingly proud. The mannequin wore a dark forest green suit, black vest, and white button-up. The shirt wasn't a creation of hers, just the cleanest she could steal from his closet for the sake of building around and getting his proper measurements. Little pinstripes in a darker shade of green barred the material, paying homage to his usual bold stripes. The inner lining he couldn't yet see was made of bright purple silk, the most masculine shade she could find.
"There," she breathed, scrutinizing one last time for any threads out of place before giving her permission. "Open your eyes."
He obediently closed his eyes, fingers tapping on his knee while he waited. He loved his gifts. He loved his wife, his life, and everything about it. He never felt this way before Lydia. Sighing happily, in a dreamy state, his eyes opened when she instructed him to.
"Woah! Holy shit… baby, did you make this?" He reached out to touch the soft wool fabric it was made from, standing to shed his sleepwear hastily. In moments he had the suit on, the fit perfect.
"Damn… this is beautiful, baby. I love it… I'm gonna wear it everywhere!" He turned and picked her up into his arms, kissing her soundly. "Thank you…"
As if on cue there was a tingle at the back of his skull. "Yer folks're callin'. I'll meet ya downstairs. There's stockings n' shit for them in the hall closet."
Barbara came through the door toting arms of groceries, Adam carrying all the presents. The Maitland woman insisted on making Christmas dinner for everyone despite Lydia's half-hearted objections— Barbara was a phenomenal cook— and immediately set to work acquainting herself with Lydia's kitchen. She and Adam had already exchanged gifts.
For Lydia, they brought the miniature figurine of the house on the hill, the original from the model she spent years looking at, in hopes she wouldn't forget where she came from.
Also socks.
For Betelgeuse, they brought a new tie. Plain and black. Though Barbara did shock them all by going as far as to compliment his new suit without even knowing beforehand that Lydia was the one who made it. "Much better than that old tacky thing," she commented backhandedly, prepping the honey ham for the oven.
Just like his wife, he also got a package of new socks.
Even more stuffed animals were added to the twin's collection. Lydia was already taking mental stock of the ones she liked looking at the least and would therefore be donated to charity. In what world did they need this many toys?
On top of all of that, Adam and Barbara also promised free babysitting for life, the most valuable of their offerings. Lydia wasn't ready to separate from her daughters quite so soon, but she knew an offer like that was sure to come in handy one day.
Betelgeuse was happy to let the Maitlands control the kitchen. It gave him that much longer with his wife in his arms, after all. He made up a round of adult hot chocolate for everyone, offering Kahlua or peppermint schnapps as they preferred. The twins were passed between parents and grandparents incessantly, seemingly happy for the attention. Betel even put on the tie the Maitlands brought for him in a show of good faith.
He let Adam pick a set of dishes from the expansive china cabinet and helped set the table, doing his best to make Christmas go smoothly. The Maitlands seemed to be waiting for something more to happen, but he was on his best behavior. This day was all about his family. He wasn't about to fuck it up.
After dinner, he pulled their stockings and gifts from the hall closet and passed them out. A cookbook signed by Julia Child for Barbara, and new brushes and high-grade paints for Adam. Everyone seemed pleasantly surprised.
By the time he poofed them home and got back, the twins were asleep upstairs and his wife was working on cleaning. A wave of his hand banished the mess, leaving them in the gently glowing lights from the Christmas tree.
He fell into his armchair and lit a cigarette. Whata fuckin' day. "Ya have the Christmas ya wanted, kitten?"
Grateful for the magical eradication of the mess, Lydia curled up into his lap just seconds after he plopped down in the armchair, basking in the beautiful multicolored tree lights and glow from the fire.
"Better than I wanted," she pressed her lips to his jaw, whispering her adoration into his mottled flesh. She'd changed into a red velveteen dress just before the Maitlands arrived, and next to his nice green suit they made for a very Christmassy sight.
"Let me…" She stole the cigarette from his lips, taking several long, deep drags before passing it back his way. "That was nice."
Lydia hadn't smoked or had a drink since before learning of her pregnancy, and so just one boozy hot cocoa and a couple drags from his smoke had left her good and buzzed.
"You know…" Her lips began moving over his neck again, leaving little nips and licks here and there. "I still have one more present left for you… if you want it…"
It didn't matter that he couldn't return the favor. This was just for him.
She was somethin' else. So cute and innocent-seeming, despite the vengeful vixen he knew lay beneath. Her red velveteen dress was soft under his fingers as he rubbed her back.
"I'm glad it was good. You were a perfect hostess, babes. Adam even told me I did a good job. High praise."
She had a mischievous smile on her face. He was about to ask what it was about when she started in kissing his neck. He chuckled perversely, his hand sliding up her thigh and into her skirt.
"Another present? Yer kiddin' me. I already got all this..." The teasing way she asked if he wanted it got him fully up to speed. "O' course I want it. I always want what you give me."
Still suckling at a mossless portion of his neck as if she would actually be able to leave a hickey there, she blindly went about unbuttoning his jacket, vest, and shirt. After so many months working on it in secret, she knew the garment by heart.
"You just sit back and relax, Daddy," she hushed into his wiry chest hair, sliding down his body until she was kneeling between his spread legs. The sight of the locket splayed in full view over his chest made her heart ache for him all the more.
"Let me take care of you…"
Her poor, wanting husband. He was suffering. She knew. He was a lustful beast and this waiting had to be torture to him after so many months of taking her however he wished. They hadn't been intimate for several weeks now, in any form. He didn't think she knew about the stack of lewd photos of her hidden in the medicine cabinet in their bathroom, but she did. She knew what he was doing when he took a little longer than usual coming to bed. That he actually masturbated to photos of his own wife blew her mind, inflated her ego, and made her eager to serve him.
"My poor baby," she pouted sympathetically as she took her time unbuckling his belt, enjoying the feel of the leather in her hands. A thrill ran through her at the idea of him one day taking it to her backside. "I know you want me… I want you too…"
Oh. Well, this was going in a direction that he liked very much. He sighed and leaned back as she undid his suit, her nimble fingers finding the buttons easily. His legs spread to accommodate her and he could feel cock start to twitch in interest.
"Of course I want ya... I always want ya..." He ran his hand through her hair gently, his eyes lidded and heavy with rekindled lust. He suffered through most of her pregnancy thinking they couldn't have sex, and now they really couldn't for another month at least. If Satan himself were to design him a punishment, it would be to look at his wife and be unable to touch her.
He watched her as she pulled his belt free, running his fingers over her cheekbones and jaw reverently.
"Ya know how much I love ya, don't ya?" She did, but with her penchant for melancholy, he didn't think it hurt anything to remind her. "Are ya sure we can't do anything together? I could just finger ya, maybe? Ya know I don't like receivin' without givin'..."
Her thighs clenched in displeasure at the idea of him fingering her, the area between her legs twinging. She wasn't anywhere near ready for anything like that. Her desire to be with him was bred of a need to please her wonderful husband, be close to him and keep his favor. She knew how talented he was, how easily he could get her screaming with little more than a quirk of his digits. But, she was a wreck.
"I'm still sore," she frowned, pulling his rigid cock from his pants and pressing a sad little kiss to the thick vein just beneath the tip. "You could maybe go down on me… If you were nice about it…"
This concession was more for him than herself. Lydia would be just fine to service him and call it a night, but he deserved any and everything he wanted. Finished with conversation, for the time being, she dropped her mouth down over him succulently, taking her sweet time to build him up to a fever pitch with long, soft strokes.
"Still sore? Jesus... I'm so sorry, kitten..." He couldn't begin to imagine what pushing a human out of your body was like, but he'd seen the process. Saw the blood and the aftermath, and understood that she wasn't ready.
"I ain't gonna force ya to let me touch ya. I mean, you could hate me for makin' ya... m-makin' ya..." His thought cut out completely as she pressed her soft lips to his cock.
He had wanted her so badly and for so long that even the simple touch of her mouth to him made his cock twitch. It wasn't any better when she took him in all the way, stroking and sucking at him just how she knew he liked it. He reached down to shove her dress down over her breasts, rubbing his hands over them gently. He knew they'd been sore, but he wanted to touch her however he could.
The multicolored Christmas lights danced over her skin, making her look ethereal in a way that nearly distracted him from her service on his cock.
"God damn... you're so beautiful, baby... god, ya feel so good."
The gentle touch of his perfect, roughened hands over her aching breasts was sublime. It was enough to make her moan around his length as she worked at him, squirming closer between his legs to push her chest harder into his grasp, his cock deeper toward the back of her throat.
What she couldn't fit in her mouth was worked at with her soft palm, the other scratching up the hair on his belly until it could splay flat over his still-heart, the locket the only thing separating their flesh. His hips were rocking slightly, marking his impending orgasm, and she slowed even further to drag it out, edge him a little.
Achingly slowly, she pulled up and off of him, breaking to swirl her hot tongue around the fat leaking head.
"You taste so good," she moaned breathily, brows furrowing as he squeezed her tits just enough to make her abused nipples leak. "Careful," she warned, kissing down the rigid shaft until her soft lips were caressing his heavy, drawn tight sack. "Don't squeeze too much… your daughters need that…"
He was so close already... she was just so soft and warm, her tiny hands working him over like a professional. He couldn't help but twitch his hips up into her mouth, his fingers circling her nipples gently.
Her hand sliding up his chest made his heart feel tight in his chest. He put one large, rough hand over her delicate one, just over his heart where his daughters sat. He made a note to get a picture of her holding them to put in one side. He wanted her with him everywhere.
Her warning caught him off guard. He smirked, bringing the milk to his lips to taste it gently. It was a lot like before, though thinner. He hummed softly.
"God, every part of ya is delicious, ya know that baby?"
He was entirely too cognizant of his surroundings in her esteemed opinion. Lydia wanted him gasping for breath he didn't need, writhing and begging for release. Maybe it was the handcuffs Santa gifted them, maybe it was the lengthy leave of absence they had taken from their sex life, but Lydia was emboldened. She felt powerful, despite being the only member of their family without any powers to speak of.
After swiping her tongue gently over his hairy testicles, she returned to sucking him down, cheek muscles pulled taut, head bobbing quickly to drag him back to the precipice quickly. Just as he was about to bust for her, she stopped again, returning to gentle licks and kisses, easing him down from the edge.
"I can do this all night, baby," she lied with a pleasant smirk, tweaking his nipple just once. "You don't want it to be over too soon… do you?"
She was being naughty and she knew it, but she had been good all year. Something told her Santa would forgive the lapse.
What a fuckin' tease. But he'd made her this way... had been her first. Had groomed her into the perfect bed partner that she was now, but... he was finding himself regretting it.
"Naughty thing... look atcha. So happy on yer knees, aren't ya?" He ran his hands through her hair, massaging her scalp gently. "You still think yer in control, don't ya? You know better."
With one quick pull, he all but impaled her throat, his hips rocking steadily as he fucked her face a few seconds before releasing her. He smirked and put his hands behind his head, leaning back. "As ya were, little elf.
Jerk. Well. That's what she got for biting off more than she could chew. He wasn't in those handcuffs yet. Little elf. Was that supposed to be some kind of crack at her height? Double jerk.
Humbled after the borderline violent show of dominance from her teased husband, Lydia returned to a beautifully submissive state. This was supposed to be a gift, after all, not a punishment.
"I'm sorry," she kissed along his length, slicking her hand up and down in apology. "I just want to make you feel good… you deserve it… Tell me what to do, Daddy. I want you to be happy."
"That's better. You were doin' a great job until ya got cocky on me." He stroked her cheek gently, leaning down to kiss her gently before settling back into his chair.
"You just keep suckin', kitten... I'm gettin close." As much fun as edging could be, he was in no mood to be teased. All he wanted in that moment was to get off, then take his girl upstairs and cuddle in with his family.
He groaned as she continued her ministrations on his cock. "Shit, baby your mouth is so good... so fuckin hot.."
"Hey. We should go out when you're feelin' better. Get Ginger to babysit or something... go have a date like normal people and get a hotel room for afterward. What'd ya think?"
It had been a long time since Lydia had left the perimeter of their property in the woods. Playing in the yard with the dogs and Betelgeuse's companionship kept her from getting cabin fever, but there was still a restlessness lurking within her that needed to be quenched.
"Sounds like…" Her hand flew along his length while her tongue teased the tip, pulling him toward orgasm without any intention of stopping this time. "… a good idea."
Date night could be fun. She was brought back to the first couple days of their marriage where he kept her holed up in a honeymoon suite, acclimating her to his cock. It was time for him to cum. Ready for it, Lydia sucked him down as deep as she could go, savoring the way his grubby mitt tightened in her hair. Before he even busted she began swallowing, fluctuating the muscles in her cheeks and throat to milk every last drop.
Moments like these really solidified for him that he'd made the right choice of picking her as his spouse even before she knew he existed. She had been molded and formed into his perfect woman. The fact that she birthed his children only exceeded his expectations.
Her soft, warm throat constricted around him and he was suddenly thrown off the edge into orgasm, his hand in her hair tightening as he came, moaning her name.
"Fuck! Lydia... oh my god. Shit... don't choke." Despite his frequent masturbation, he was a bit backed up, so the release that hit her tongue was more like a flood than a trickle. He carefully pulled her back, the last of his spend landing on her full breasts.
"Shit... sorry, baby. Ya okay?"
Because she had already started contracting her throat to swallow before he reached his peak, she was ready when it came gushing, muscles forced into relaxation so that he could fist her hair and hump up into her mouth to his heart's content. She had been taught well.
Her breasts were large enough now that she could lift them to her mouth with her hands and use her tongue to clean up what splashed there; give him a show.
"I'm fine," she assured with a smile, charmed by his worry. That was nothing compared to some of the brutal throat-fuckings she'd endured at his hand. Reaching for him with both arms like a small child asking to be picked up by their parent, he obliged, resettling her in his lap the way she was before they'd begun.
"I think I do want…" she began with a heavy shade of nervousness, nibbling at her bottom lip. She didn't look the same. What if he was grossed out? "If you want, obviously… I'm just… I miss you… I'm horny..."
She was so good for him... no matter what he put her through, she always came back to him for more, ready and willing to serve. He ran his hands through her hair as she licked herself clean, his cock giving a halfhearted twitch.
"God you're so beautiful, baby... fuck I can't believe you." He shook his head, pulling her into his lap and holding her close. She was so soft and pliant. He felt as though he could nearly fall asleep before she spoke.
He was suddenly wide awake again, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Oh, absolutely... I always wanna make my girl feel good." He picked her up and carefully lay her under the tree, her head just beneath the lowest boughs to let her look up at the decorated evergreen while resting her back on the cushy tree skirt.
He pressed a deep kiss to her lips before slowly working his way lower, her dress banished by his questing hands. He ran his fingers over her core gently, testing the waters. "Ya want my fingers or my mouth, kitten?"
A wave of self-consciousness swept over her as he banished the dress completely. The flesh on her stomach was still loose stretched from pregnancy, the flesh between her legs raw and overgrown with a thick bush of raven pubic hair from her inability to shave. With all the time dedicated to mothering, it didn't seem important. Her breasts were larger, hips wider. Everything was just different. This wasn't the body he was familiar with, the one he loved.
Terrified of what she might see in his eyes, she kept her own flitting over the twisting branches of the tree, from one gleaming ornament to another.
"I'm sorry," she choked, squirming. "I know I don't look…" How was she supposed to finish that sentence? Nothing seemed right.
"Mouth, please." The barely-there touch to her center made her hiss, and she finished by answering his question, hoping he wasn't too turned off to change his mind.
He watched her closely, hating the way she wouldn't even look at him. What was she so worried about? She was as gorgeous as she always was, just in a different way. He started at her collar and worked kisses down her body, paying careful attention to her breasts, stomach, hips. Anywhere that was new in a way, he wanted to explore.
He nuzzled into the thatch of dark hair at her core, humming softly. He didn't mind it at all. It was just a part of her, something she'd grown as a part of carrying their daughters. "Gorgeous. Yer so fuckin' gorgeous, baby."
He pressed a gentle kiss to her clit, his tongue sliding out to test along her labia, not wanting to hurt her. He looked up the length of her, watching to see every reaction.
The introduction of his chilled tongue to her healing, inflamed nethers made her draw in a long, hissing breath, expression twisting with discomfort.
"Easy," she breathed a reminder, petting gently through his tangled hair, unaware that he was already being as gentle as he possibly could. It would feel better the longer he kept on, she knew, but right this instant the touch was sharp and uncomfortable. She almost asked him to stop.
But… she was horny. It had been far too long since she'd lost herself in his touch. Now that they were here, she wasn't about to let a little pain ruin her good time. Braving a glance down, she was flustered to find his predatory gaze unflinching on her as his tongue writhed. Evidently, he didn't have any issues whatsoever with her changed body.
It would get better. He knew what he was doing.
Easy.
He shot her a look as though to say Watch It. I'm still in control here. His pace continued, carefully sucking and pulling at her tender flesh as he settled into his meal like a starving man. In a way he was. It had been far, far too long since he last had her stretched under him like this. Even before her pregnancy, he wasn't eating her out on the regular. Now, that was going to change.
He had done the research, of course. Knew the risks of penetration too soon after delivery. The last thing he wanted was for her to bleed out again, and for it to be his fault. She was so soft under his fingers. So ready for more even though she was pleading for him to be gentle.
He slid his tongue between her folds, raking it up the entire length of her before stopping to suck at her clit roughly. "God damn, ya taste so good. Missed ya like this, kitten." Her taste had changed somewhat but was still as delicious as ever. He blamed hormones.
This was a special kind of torture for poor Lydia, who should have known what she was getting into when she made the initial request. It was too late now and here she was, spread out beneath him and the tree like a tasty Christmas tart. The slimy, cold wriggling of his tongue was simultaneously painfully intense and blissfully numbing. After a bit, she could only really feel him in the places where it mattered, pleasure overtaking the bites of pain from his agitation of tender flesh.
Creamy thighs trembled on either side of his head, the girl struggling to keep from closing them around his stubbly cheeks as he worked her over with maddening, merciless lashes of his tongue. It took her longer than usual to reach her peak, her dedicated husband relearning what it took to get her there. When was her last orgasm? It had to be the night of the baby shower when she took charge and pushed him into the position she wanted him. That was fun.
Her bully of a husband had another thing coming whenever she got him into those handcuffs.
"Ungh!" She twisted and arched as a wave of pleasure snuck up on her, the bright rainbow of lights above her blending as her vision crossed. Not ready to stop yet, Betelgeuse kept going, still ravenous.
"Beej," she begged breathless, pulling weakly at his hair and bucking her hips. "Can't… no more… please!"
He grinned as she finally fell over the edge for him, though it had taken a little more work than usual, he was still thrilled by watching her fall apart, the twirling of the lights over her skin making her look like a stained glass goddess, painted in technicolor.
He was far beyond listening to plead for him to stop. She may be sensitive, but as he had just proved, she could push through it and find the pleasure easily. He pulled back just long enough to press a kiss to her stomach and smirk at her.
"One more. I know you can do it." And he was right back at her, his tongue curling against her g-spot firmly.
"Please!" She begged again, the plea falling on deaf ears. It was no use. Once Betelgeuse got it in his head that he wanted something, there wasn't any stopping him. History had proven that. Not even two sets of protective parents, a hungry sandworm, and a prison sentence could keep him away from his chosen bride.
"Why are you so mean?!"
Most likely, this was some sort of punishment for forcing him to sit through an entire evening with Adam and Barbara. Or a reward. He had a habit of keeping his true feelings secret, primarily conveying displeasure through sexual torture. It was better than yelling at her or giving her the silent treatment, she supposed. She would die if he locked himself away from her in that office again.
"Please, please, no please!" The desperate cries came in a high-pitched, warbled string that sounded much more like yes! than anything else.
If they weren't careful, they would surely end up waking the twins on the second floor.
Pleading never worked on him. The more she begged, the more he knew she wanted it. But she was getting loud... loud enough to wake the babies, and that would be a moodkill like no other. He pulled back to look at her, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit slowly.
"Hush. You need to quiet down and gimme what I want or I'm takin' ya to the dungeon where they can't hear you. Understand?"
It wasn't much of a threat. She seemed to enjoy the dungeon as much as he did, but it was worth a shot. He went right back to it, pulling her hips up to meet his mouth as he sucked at her lips, then slipped his tongue back into her. It wasn't a punishment as much as a claiming. So long without taking her made him antsy. He needed to be able to stake his claim or he risked someone else going for her. He learned that with Scuzzo, that asshole.
The threat was more effective than Betelgeuse knew. As much as Lydia enjoyed their time in the dungeon, his hunger was intimidating. Could he stop himself if she needed him to? The aesthetics of an environment like that would only tease him further, and he was already on a tight leash. It was unwise of her to open the door for him like this, but the call of pleasure could only be ignored so long.
"Yes, Sir… please, I'm sorry," she panted, straining to dampen the shrill quality of her voice as he kept on torturing her. "Not the dungeon… please not there…"
She bit into her hand to muffle herself, enough to leave teeth indents in the delicate flesh.
"I'll be good. I can be quiet. I can— I'll— Just— ah!"
She broke her promise in record time, crying out to the heavens as he dragged her down into a euphoric abyss.
Well, now he was conflicted. She had gone against his instructions by shouting like that, but she also gave him what he asked for by orgasming as she did. He pulled back with one lingering kiss to her cunt. He missed having her any way he liked, but this was good progress. He would eat her out as long as he needed to for her to heal up and be ready for his cock.
He hovered over her, smiling softly. "Well, how was that? You okay? A little sore, I hope. Gotta remind ya who ya belong to." He ran his thumb over her nipple, a bead of milk pooling on the pad. He brought it to his mouth with a hum.
"Let's get ya upstairs. The kids are awake."
He had developed a kind of sixth sense with his daughters. He could tell when they were asleep or awake, seemingly could sense their moods, too. Maybe that would come in handy.
"I was already sore."
Lydia worked up a terrible pout once the crippling aftershocks wore off and she could catch a breath. It wasn't nearly as bad as she was making it out to be, but the dramatics couldn't be helped. Unwilling to take the stairs after a show like that, she laced her arms around his neck good and tight before he could pull away, silently demanding to be carried.
The bracelet he gave caught the gleam of the Christmas lights, and it worked to soften her to him just a bit. To make sure he knew she wasn't really upset, she pressed little kisses to his neck and jawline as she was carried like a Princess up to their bedroom.
"Oh, I know. Did mama wake you up? She's so sorry. Come here, my loves," she cooed sweetly to her girls as they were delivered to her one at a time, each immediately calming once they found a nipple and latched on. Breathing a sigh of relief as pressure in her breasts was alleviated by their feeding, she relaxed back into the mound of pillows, still fully nude.
"Merry Christmas…"
Spoiled. He had thoroughly spoiled her, but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. She was perfect. As he carried her upstairs, he hummed to himself. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas seemed appropriate.
He let her settle in and went to get the girls, cooing at them softly. "Mean ol mama. Wakin up my babies!" He settled them in to feed, happy to stand back and watch the ethereal scene before him. He still couldn't quite believe this was his afterlife.
Perfect wife. Perfect house. Perfect daughters. He didn't have a single thing to complain about. Except maybe his father in law in the basement. He stripped to his boxers and curled into her side, rubbing the backs of the infants tiny necks with his thumb.
"Merry Christmas, kitten. And you too, buggies."