Tumblr Imagines

santa baby

"For Christ’s sake, Clifford. It’s two hours of your life. You signed up for it so stop sulking." You glance at your  boyfriend, who’s pouting in the passenger seat of your car. Michael’s midnight blue and white-blonde hair is hidden under the fluffy trim of his Santa hat. He crosses his arms over his massive stomach (what wonders a fat suit can do) and groans.

"Correction: You signed us up for this. And only because you got the cute outfit." He motions to your short, green elf costume, complete with sparkly tights and adorable pointy ears. He’s right; you make a great Santa’s helper, but that is besides the point. In your opinion, this was better than lazing around in your jammies all day. It was supposed to be fun.

You could look back on this ten years from now and reminiscence on how you convinced Michael Gordon Clifford to be a department store Santa. Hopefully, no other girl could ever say that. This certainly wasn’t your conventional date. That was what Michael really loved about you. You were an original, you were adventurous, you liked to try new things. It was safe to say that you had him wrapped around your fingers. One bat of your eyelashes and you could get him to do anything, really. (Though he’d never admit that he was whipped).

"This thing fucking itches," Michael whines, scratching at his fake beard. He gives you another pleading look. "The suit’s really hot too." Mikey collapses against the seat for emphasis. "Can we please go back home, baby?" 

You roll your eyes. Unlike Michael, you weren’t so easy to crack. “They won’t be able to find replacements on such short notice.” At a red light, you lean over to give him a gentle kiss. The beard tickles. Your giggle makes Mr. Punk Rock himself smile weakly. The sight of you two could melt the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge.

This is your second Christmas together. You had to admit that last year had been much, much steamier. You did this thing with festive lingerie. But this year you wanted to be… cute. You and Michael had all the time in the world to get it on.

"I sincerely hope you’ll watch your language around the little ones."

Disappointed, Michael flicks one of your elf ears. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Unless one pisses on me—”

"Michael Clifford!"

"And you also have to do the dance for me." Your eyes are on the road, but you can practically hear the cheeky grin in his voice. Michael begins to draw shapes on your thighs, getting closer and closer to the hem of your skirt. This was something you loved about Michael. You could be having a casual conversation one minute then within the next, he had you falling apart using just his fingers. And vice versa. You were just that comfortable with eachother. Now, however, was not the time or place. So you take a deep breath and decide to play innocent. You’re caught at a red light again, but the mall’s just ahead.

"What dance?"

"You know the dance," It’s Michael’s turn to lean over. Tugging the beard down, he presses hot kisses to column of your throat. He hums the tune of "Santa Baby," against your flushed skin, smirking when your grip on the wheel tightens. Michael squeezes your thigh. "It should be an annual thing. Green light."

He straightens in his seat and readjusts the beard with a wink. Completely flustered, you slam on the gas pedal, so hard that you’re almost going too fast for your turn off.

"As soon as we get home," You promise, cursing him under your breath for not only getting you all worked up, but reminding you of the lapdance you gave him last year. And the amazing sex you had afterwards. All while you were trying to keep it PG for once. By some miracle you manage to park safely.

Michael jumps out of the car first and runs around to your side to help you out, still wearing that stupid grin. The moment you turn away to lock the doors, he smacks your ass. You squeal in surprise, whirling around to face your boyfriend.

But Michael’s already starting towards the mall.

"Words like that will land you a lump of coal!"