Chapter 8

Damien

Once I ensure Niklaus is safely out of the workshop, I linger for an extra five minutes before sneaking back into the Hellve’s den. In a matter of days, the crew has gotten the entire production line operational, and boxes filled with finished products are neatly packed and ready for delivery.

Jujube stands at the front of the room, a miniature tyrant with his nose held high in the air like the aggravating little shit he is. “Lucifer, sir!” he shouts as I approach.

My eyes drift to the red H pinned on his shirt, a bold fashion choice that other Hellves have begun to imitate. A sudden surge of anger washes over me as I reach over and tear it off his chest, crumbling the paper in my fist.

Indignant, he protests, but I jab my finger between his eyes and watch as they cross. It would be comical if I wasn’t so agitated. “You need to be more careful, and this?” I shake the crumbled paper badge in his face. “This is reckless. This is idiotic. The Santa is already suspicious that something is going on, and you want to flaunt your betrayal by parading around in that?”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, but I don’t miss how he picks at the fuzz on his sweater, trying to hide the subtle tremble to his fingers. “Let me give you an update, sir.” Even though it’s an obvious distraction technique, it proves effective as he moves towards the production tables, and I fall in line behind him.

My stress about Niklaus discovering our operation diminishes when I glance at the table full of dongs, and I manage a smile.

“Our flagship item is the ‘Candy Cane,’” he announces, displaying an eight-inch dildo with red and white stripes and a convenient curve at the tip. The silicone dick flops around, wobbling as he picks it up and waves it through the air. He grins wickedly as he slams it onto the table, the suction cup making a satisfying click as it latches to the metal.

“Second is the ‘Knot Your Daddy’s Christmas.’” This one is golden and swirled, shorter but thicker than the previous model, and a giant werewolf knot swells at the base .

He leads me through the lineup, from ‘The Grinch’ to the ‘Cum Down Your Chimney,’ complete with a reservoir for fake jizz that pumps from an almost invisible slit. The table ends with the ‘Two-Turtled Dove,’a double ended dildo for when you feel like sharing the love.

I pick up a pair of clamps with tiny red bows on them we’ve been calling ‘Jack Frost Nipping.’ “I tested those,” Jujube whispers, leaning close as he absentmindedly rubs at his nipples, wincing. “That hurts, bro. You sure people actually want that?”

“First, I’m not your bro,” I say while baring my teeth at him, “and second, yes, they most certainly do.”

“What about this?” He holds up a cock cage, twirling it around in his hand.

“The ‘Chestnuts Roasting in an Open Wire?’ Yes, just trust that I wouldn’t have you making it if there wasn’t a demand. This is my area of expertise, after all.”

Our last stop is to a table full of butt plugs, bedazzled with red, green, and gold gems on the base. We’re wavering between calling them ‘Decked Halls’ and ‘Holey Pornaments.’

Choices, choices.

My eyes sweep the room at the roughly twenty elves, scurrying around as they work on crafting sex toys that are comically large in their tiny hands.

This should be funny, right?

Hilarious .

Instead of amusement, a sharp pang of guilt pierces through me, square in the chest. My hand moves to my sternum, rubbing the ridiculous feeling away before turning back to Jujube.

“Have Santa or Cadbury noticed the missing elves? Has anyone heard if they’ve started asking questions?”

Waving me off with a shrug, he shakes his head. “We’re working in shifts and covering for each other in the workshop. Honestly, those goody-two-shoes are too busy trying to meet their quotas to pay any attention to us.”

Another of those foreign pinches of guilt squeezes my insides as I shift uncomfortably. The consequences of losing a chunk of his workforce hadn’t crossed my mind, and now I’m left feeling strange. Icky and slimy and, ugh…

Ashamed .

“Quotas?” I ask, trying my best to keep this churning in my gut to myself. “Are those still being met?”

“Dunno!” he says without a worry in the world, and my lips pull into a grimace. It doesn’t matter that I’m holding up his production, right?

Right?

Why should I care?

Chest uncomfortably tight, I take one last glance at the boxes of finished products, my initial amusement at seeing them fading. “I have plans for the evening and need to be on my way. Stay on top of your other work, too, and tell the others to do the same. Falling behind on production could raise suspicions from Santa and risk the entire operation.”

“Yeah, yeah, bro.”

Temper flaring, I whirl to him and allow a tendril of my magic to escape, the slight static shock of it electrifying the air as it surrounds the terrified elf. “I told you I am not your bro.”

Jujube’s eyes get so wide, I’m concerned for a moment that they might pop out of his stupid little head. It would serve him right, treating me so familiar.

As though we are equals.

While I’m considering the pros and cons of popping his head like a pimple—with the biggest con being cleanup, obviously—the rest of the room falls deathly silent. I turn to find every eye warily staring at me, including Xalreth, who stands near the door as if he just entered.

Without a word, I storm out, barely taking the time to make sure no one is watching before I navigate through the workshop. In a manner completely unbefitting The Lucifer, I don’t stop to cause trouble. There are no pranks or sabotage. I don’t even bother with any snide remarks as I make my way to my room.

As I close the door behind me, I fall against it and take a deep breath.

What the fuck is the matter with me?

I can’t help it.

Really, truly, I can’t.

Since six twenty-eight, I’ve been lingering outside Niklaus’s office, but the idea of being at the receiving end of his punishment is too thrilling to resist. Filthy thoughts swirl in my mind as I anticipate the consequences.

Will he tie me up?

Choke me until I’m on the verge of passing out?

Mark me?

Fuck, all the above?

My cock twitches in my pants at the prospect, and I stand here, almost dizzy with excitement, until the clock reads six thirty-three. Only three minutes late, but something tells me it’ll be enough to have him flustered.

I rap my knuckles on the door in a rhythm, and a curt, “Come in,” is spoken from the other side.

Gods, I’m fucking giddy.

Schooling my face to be neutral, I open the door and slide inside his office. “Good evening, Niklaus.” I take a deep inhale and nearly moan at the heavenly aroma. “Sweet baby Jeebus, that smells incredible.”

Niklaus stands, signature stoic expression on his face as he unbuttons the sleeve cuffs of his button-up shirt. My eyes track every single detail as he rolls them up twice, his movements calculated and precise as he tucks them tight. The fabric is taut against his thick arms as he gives it a tug .

Dear god, the way the muscles in his forearms roll and bunch is enough to make me beg.

He moves deliberately, each step agonizingly slow, until he stands in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his gaze. I don’t even blink as he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips, then trails to my ear.

“Three.”

A thrill travels up my spine, but I do my best to keep it contained, smiling at him with a flutter of my lashes. “Three what, Nik?”

He backs up, a predatorial smile in place as he nudges my nose with his, then stands tall. Somehow, he seems even larger as he towers over me. “Are you hungry?” Calm as can be, he offers me his crooked arm, and I take it out of pure instinct. He guides me to a cozy table by the enormous fireplace, and we are serenaded by the crackling and popping of the burning logs.

I stare at the table, then up at his perfectly serene demeanor, then at the table once more. My mouth moves in silence a couple of times, before I finally scoff and say, “Aren’t you going to…”

“Aren’t I going to what , little prince?” His green eyes are locked on mine when I glance up at him, the undercurrent of a challenge burning deep inside them. “Please, sit and let’s eat. This day has been never-ending, and I’ve worked up quite the appetite.” The suggestive inflection to his voice sends another of those silky shudders up my back.

The plates are loaded with juicy steaks, their sear marks crisscrossed in a way that make them almost too perfect, with a dollop of herb butter melting on top. Fluffy mashed potatoes with whipped peaks sit next to fresh green beans, and suddenly my stomach is roaring.

“Hungry?” he asks, amusement in his grin as he takes a seat across from me.

“Starving,” I answer, sliding my fork into my mouth and sucking in my cheeks as I pull the bite of steak off.

He gives a tiny self-satisfied smile as he glances down at his food. “I know this is a social call, but we need to discuss a few matters.”

Nerves bolt through my body as I freeze, another bite halfway to my mouth. “Oh, uh, what matters?”

His eyebrows bunch like they do when he’s trying to figure me out. “The letters,” he drawls, suspicion painting his face. “They’re the reason you came after all… even if they’re not the reason you’re staying.”

“Listen to you, being all cocky. Maybe I’m staying because I enjoy having miniature servants running around doing my bidding.”

“Your bidding?” My eyes snap up to his green ones, and I curse myself for the choice of words. “Tell me, Lucifer, what orders have you given my elves to fulfill on your behalf?”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

I lie better than this… I’m the Devil , for fuck’s sake.

Quick to regain my composure, I detect a glimmer of recognition in his eyes even as I slide a smirk onto my lips. “Well, the elves are very handy to have at my disposal, you know. I haven’t had to cook for myself or do my laundry since I arrived.”

“You expect me to believe you don’t have minions tending to your every need in Hell?”

I grin, cutting a bite off my steak. “Okay, you’ve got me there.”

“You’re up to something.”

Lips closed tight, I smile around my food and swallow. “I’m always up to something, darling.”

He stares, assessing, for another few seconds before surprising me by moving on from the conversation. “My proposition for the letter issue is simple. We’ll provide a worker to the supernatural mail center to help sort the letters. It shouldn’t take more than an hour a day, I’d imagine, and we can split the duties by alternating days.”

Slowly, I nod. “That sounds straightforward enough.”

“The post office will appreciate the extra hands, as well, so long as there’s no trouble caused.” He gives me a hard stare, but I only grin before he continues. “Any letters intended for me but mistakenly addressed to you will be intercepted and redirected.”

“That’s a reasonable solution,” I agree, a heaviness settling in my gut.

“Of course, a few might sneak through. If that happens, perhaps you could… find someone to deliver them to me here, or I could send someone down to collect them. ”

“Oh? You want me to dispatch a liaison up here every time a dumb human misspells your name?”

“No,” he says, gaze locked on mine. “I was hoping you’d come yourself.”

I suck in a sharp inhale at the hunger in his eyes, and I slide my chair back with a loud scrape, preparing to pounce. He clicks his tongue, and I freeze, hovering just an inch above my seat. “Finish your meal, Damien.”

“But…” A whine crawls from my throat, but he only chuckles as he returns his focus to his food.

“My god, how I love you needy,” he says, reaching down to adjust himself under the table while I watch. My lips part in another desperate inhale, wanting to see more.

“Nik,” I moan, my cock stiffening behind my pants, but he only smirks and nods towards my plate. He watches, satisfied, as I squirm in my seat until I’ve eaten every bite.

Dinner is deemed finished as he stands, and I almost lose it at the outline of his thick cock bulging against his pants. There’s a predatorial glint in his eyes as he walks over and grabs the arms of my chair, spinning me with a loud drag of wood until I face him. My face is level with his erection, and I whimper at the size of him. “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Fuck yes, I’m so ready,” I moan, reaching for him, but he snatches my wrist in midair.

“Did I give you permission to touch?”

Oh, my fuck yes .

Tingles shoot through my body at the rasp of his voice, and I tilt my face up to stare at him. “No, Daddy, you didn’t.” He doesn’t stop me as I lean forward, pressing my cheek against his cock and rubbing up and down. His lip twists in a snarl as he wraps his hand around my head and tugs me closer, giving a slow, controlled thrust against me.

“What’s your safe word?”

“I won’t need it,” I say, breathier than I mean to be.

“That wasn’t the question, Damien. What is your safe word?”

“Pitchfork.”

He smirks, but nods. “I want you naked.” I look up and meet his eyes again, and he raises a brow at me, daring me to argue.

Without a word, I stand and tear my shirt over my head, then unbutton my pants and push them to the ground. Another snarl rips onto his lip, this one joined by a growl, at the black lacy thong I’m wearing.

“Do you want me to take this off, too?” I ask, sliding my thumbs through the lace bands and tugging as I shimmy my hips.

His tongue flicks between his lips, nostrils flaring as he stares at my hard cock trapped under the fabric.

“Leave it,” he growls, turning and walking away. I blink a few times at his retreating frame, confused. Leather creaks as he drops into the seat behind his desk, his eyes finding me again as he adjusts himself, giving a subtle stroke through his pants.

“Come, little prince.” My hand lands on my cock and I drag it along my length, tipping my head up with a soft moan. Niklaus leans forward with a warning rumble low in his throat. “I will not ask a second time.”

I strut over, my knees falling onto either side of his hips as I climb into his lap. He palms my ass cheeks, fingers slipping underneath the tiny strip of fabric and coasting up and down before snapping it against my skin.

His hand comes around to my face, two fingers hovering in front of my lips, and I open obediently. He pushes them into my mouth, and I try to suck, but he shoves them deeper until they’re bumping the back of my throat and making me gag.

“Oh, this pretty mouth is going to have to do better than that,” he muses as he keeps thrusting. Spit dribbles out the sides of my lips as I tilt my chin, sucking his fingers hard enough to hollow my cheeks. His cock stabs against me as he finger-fucks my mouth, never looking away.

I suck in a deep, gasping breath when he yanks his hand back. Spit drips off his fingers and he wipes them gently over the skin of my cheek. It’s filthy and strangely tender at the same time, and it makes my heart thud in my chest. His eyes pinch as he swipes through the mess on my face. “Look at you,” he murmurs, gaze soft and voice rough.

I only whimper, but it seems to be enough for him .

“Stand,” he commands, and I scramble to my feet as he rises from his chair. Harsh hands spin me and his grip on my neck shoves my torso until I’m bent over in front of him. Fully clothed, he rolls his hips against me, my cheek pressed into the desk. “Wrap your tail around your wrist. If it interrupts me, we start all over again.”

My body jolts with a sharp sting as his palm meets my ass in a slap, the smack of skin ringing through the room. “Count for me, little prince.”

“Wha-what?” I ask, trying to look at him, but he holds me steady. After a pause, he lets out a sigh that indicates his dwindling patience with me is faltering.

A palm slides up my cheek, rubbing where he just struck me. “We’ll have to start over then, won’t we?” He spanks me again, the sting like lightning up my spine.

“One!” I gasp, and his chuckle is dark.

“See? You are a quick learner.”

Another slap to my ass cheek has me whimpering and my cock rages, pushing against the silky material of my panties. “Two,” I grit out, the heat of his hand a brand on my skin.

“And how many do you get?”

“Three,” I whisper.

“That’s right,” he soothes, rubbing the tender skin with his palm before giving a final spanking that has me arching my back and shouting. He kicks my foot and my legs spread wider as he releases my neck. “Stay right there and do not move.” He drops to his knees behind me, licking and kissing along the blistered flesh of my ass before moving towards the center.

“Look at this tight little hole, just waiting to be stretched and stuffed full of me.”

“Please… please ,” I beg, wiggling as he chuckles and slips a finger underneath the fabric of my thong again. Tugging it aside, the velvety heat of his tongue glides across my hole, and it flutters as I search for more. A loud, desperate noise claws its way from my throat as he licks, sweeping in patient, steady strokes.

The scrub of his beard between my ass cheeks scrapes the skin angry and raw, but I’ve never loved the friction as much as I do right now. One of his hands lands on each of my cheeks and he spreads me, rolling his tongue as my asshole clenches, searching to be filled.

“Please, Daddy, more… give me more,” I beg, and his laugh vibrates over my skin.

When the tip of his tongue spears inside me, I buck backward, shamelessly grinding against him as he works me open. Fingers dig into the muscles of my ass as he spreads me further, working himself deeper with determined thrusts. He releases one hand and reaches around, sliding his fingers inside my underwear to grip my cock.

I spasm as if I’ve been electrocuted, an inhuman howl leaving my throat.

Nonsense spills from my lips. Begging and pleading, shouting his name and asking for more as he eats me out, never stopping his steady strokes. Unparalleled ecstasy ripples through me, pleasure like I’ve never felt catapulting me into desperate oblivion. Nothing in the world matters anymore—nothing beyond the warm drag of his tongue and the stroke of his hand.

My hips roll, fucking myself against his face as my balls draw tight and my cock swells in his fist. Tense, delicious heat builds in the base of my spine, and I’m shameless as I chase that high. “Nik… fuck, Nik, I’m about to, I’m going to…” All at once, mere milliseconds before I explode, he tears his mouth away and stills his hand. A firm grip squeezes at the base of my cock, denying me at the last moment.

Confused, my body continues to pulse even as the orgasm is cut off, and I wail, trying to fuck into his grip. Another dark, satisfied chuckle reaches my ear as he pins me in place. A steady stream of pre-cum leaks down my shaft and over his fingers, and he squeezes my cock when he feels it.

“Someone’s a leaky boy, aren’t they?” He pulls his hand away, my climax denied, and I whine as I reach for myself. With a click of his tongue, he grabs my wrist and spins me to face him, still on his knees. He stands, towering over me, then leans in to my ear.

“One.”