Chapter Text
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffanys
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
~
Pen tugged on her skirt as she held her nephew’s hand, suddenly very self-conscious of how short it was and how much of her thigh peeked out between the hem and her socks. It was really only about two inches, but it felt like feet.
“Auntie Pen, do you think Father Christmas will bring me an Xbox if I ask him? Mum says he can’t bring things like that, and I should ask for toys, but I really just want an Xbox.”
“I think your mum is right, Stilton. Santa needs to bring toys to so many children all over the world, so I’m not sure he has the resources for such an expensive gift. Maybe you can ask your parents for that as a present,” she said, trying to stop fidgeting with her clothes. The neckline on her sweater suddenly seemed very low, showing a good amount of cleavage, but she asked Philippa before she left and she said it was only because Pen had big boobs anyway, and it wasn’t too revealing.
Her sister might have been egging her on because she knows Pen has a crush on the man playing Santa Claus this year, but Pen did admit she looked quite nice before she left.
It was a week until Christmas, and every year the Bridgerton’s put on a little festive party for the street. The highlight for the kids was the appearance of Father Christmas, played by one of the Bridgerton brothers. Anthony did his part until he started having children, and with the birth of Ben’s son Charlie he was now off the hook, so it was Colin’s turn. According to Eloise, Violet did not have to strongarm him into returning home for the holidays for once, which raised a few eyebrows in the family, but no one questioned it. He’d been home for two days already, helping prepare cookies, appetizers, decorations, and party games for their guests, when usually he would show up for the party and the holiday, leaving on a red-eye flight before Boxing Day.
From talking with him herself, Pen knew that he was becoming a little disenchanted with travel recently. In the last two years, he started to call her more and more often, until it was every night they talked on the phone for at least an hour. Usually, he told her about his day and whatever adventure he found himself in, and she would regale him with tales of her mother attempting to control her life despite being 28 years old.
It’s not that he hated traveling, he told her, but rather that he had been almost everywhere after ten years of it. He starred in a travel show, and the production company told him where he needed to go, but he had trouble mustering up enthusiasm for it anymore. He felt alone, he said, and Penelope understood that like no one else in his life. She lived in her own one-bedroom flat in London and worked from home writing more days than not, fielding blind dates her mother set her up on so she could finally “settle down and start a family” despite how often she told her that she didn’t need to have children to feel fulfilled.
She would never admit to her that she was lonely, however.
It was hard to live her life when it felt like her heart was somewhere across the world.
So here she was, on her way to the Bridgerton Christmas Extravaganza or whatever it was they called it, dressed up in a tight V-neck sweater in a shade of deep green she hoped set off her hair, a plaid mini skirt that would show off her panties if she bent over, and tan thigh-high socks with tall brown boots that tried their best to add a few inches to her height but she still didn’t quite make it to most people’s shoulders. She looked hot for once, and she hoped Colin would notice because she wasn’t sure if she dared to do much else. She had only arrived at Mayfair that morning, not that it was much of a drive from Central London, but she had yet to see Colin at all.
The thought of…propositioning him—or asking him out—or even speaking to him in person, really, after not seeing him for over a year, it all sent her head spinning.
Especially when she was dressed like a sexy librarian in front of most of her family and all of his.
“Hello, everyone! Come in, please!” Violet greeted them at the door cheerfully. “Drinks are in the kitchen, snacks are on the dining room table, and…” she paused, looking at Stilton and Brieanna’s excited faces and smiling, “Father Christmas is here to listen to your requests in the parlor.”
The children grinned and started to bounce on their toes.
“Why don’t we do that first and then you can play some games with the other, yeah?” Pippa said, starting to usher them down the hallway. “Can you tell Mrs. Bridgerton ‘Thank you’?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton!” they chorused together, holding their mother’s hands.
“It’s good to see you, Violet,” Pen smiled as she greeted her.
“Colin will be thrilled to see you, dear,” the woman pulled her in for a hug. “Eloise is around here somewhere too, but you know she doesn’t enjoy things like this.”
“I’m sure she’s hiding in a side room somewhere. I’ll find her later. I’m here to help my sister with the kids, so I’ll be seeing you around, right?”
“Oh, of course, Penelope, I’ll be here for hours yet,” Violet assured her. “You know the best parts of the festivities only happen after the children go to bed.”
Penelope hurried after her sister. The massive Bridgerton House had so many rooms, and quite a few of them were filled with groups of children or adults playing various party games. One room had a Nintendo Switch set up with some sort of video game sporting tournament ongoing, another had a karaoke machine where one of the Bridgerton aunts (she thought it was Georgie, because of her red hair) was singing “Last Christmas,” and a room with card tables and board games. It was there she spotted Eloise, who was arguing with one of the neighborhood boys over a game of Settlers of Catan. Pen waved as she walked by the door, but Eloise continued to look very stern-faced and angry, so she likely didn’t see her.
“Once we finish with Father Christmas, what would you two like to do? Your father is around here somewhere…” Philippa mused.
“I want to play video games!” Stilton yelled.
“Of course you do,” Philippa rolled her eyes. “You can find Dad to help with that one.” Albion had arrived earlier to assist with setting up when he received a frantic call from Anthony who explained that they didn’t have enough hands and if they didn’t get help they would still be hanging lights by the time guests started to arrive.
“I want to stay with Mummy,” Brieanna pouted.
“You can stay with me, love. Maybe we can find a few friends to play with while we’re here.”
The sound of laughing and screeching children grew a little louder, and as they rounded the corner into the parlor…
There he was.
Currently, little Edmund was sitting on him, ticking off gifts on his fingers as he listed them, but the moment Penelope stepped into the room, his eyes found hers. He wore the full Santa Claus costume, complete with a fake white curly beard and what was probably a pillow stuffed into his red velvet coat. The Bridgertons never did anything halfway, so it was one of the finest imitations Pen had ever seen; the beard looked like it was actually glued to his face, the wig might have been real human hair, and the brass buttons and buckle on the coat shone brightly in the warm light of the parlor despite the dark, English winter night sky outside.
He continued his one-sided conversation with Edmund as Anthony looked on, his face stern as his son continued to rant about what he wanted for Christmas. Miles waited patiently off to his side, and little Charlotte was asleep in her pram. Ahead of them in the queue were a few of the other neighbors and their children, so Pen had perhaps thirty minutes to kill so she would not have to face Colin just yet—
“I’m going to run and grab us drinks if you could stay here with the children,” Philippa said, and before Pen could protest she was out the door and down the hallway.
Shit.
She sighed and took Stilton and Brieanna by the hand, knowing their tendency to run when they were over-excited. Once they both were lost in a zoo for a few moments too long because Albion let go of them to hold his hat to his head in a gust of wind and Philippa never let him forget.
“I’ll have to see what I can do, my boy. Happy Christmas to you,” Colin said in a low, booming voice. “Oh, is that little Mary? So wonderful to see you my dear!” he greeted the next child.
Pen smiled. She was surprised he remembered the names of the neighborhood kids, but at the same time, she knew he would take his job as Santa very seriously.
He kept meeting her gaze, and the moment their eyes met she would turn away and pretend to be staring at the curtains. She couldn’t help it. Something about his stare would send her heart pounding, her breath catching in her throat, and she had to look away before she did something silly like faint or run out of the room.
Something about watching him talk to all these children, make them smile and laugh with his silly jokes, and tell them he would try to give them a happy Christmas made her mind turn to mush—
“I got you some punch, which I have been assured is thoroughly spiked,” Philippa showed up just as Stilton and Brieanna were next in the queue, handing her a crystal glass filled with a deep red liquid that smelled like spiced cranberries and rum.
“Thank you,” Pen said gratefully and downed half of it in one go, feeling the inner warmth slowly creep through her veins.
“You alright?” her sister asked, her brow raised.
“I’m fine,” Pen snapped and then regretted it.
A mischievous grin overcame Pippa’s face. “Are you nervous to meet Santa?” she said mockingly.
“Why would I be nervous to meet Santa, Philippa?” Pen hissed.
“I dunno, maybe you’ve met him before. He seems to be looking at you an awful lot,” she provoked her.
“Do you know Santa, Auntie?” Brieanna asked, eyes wide.
“Of course I do. He used to bring me gifts all the time,” Pen explained, glaring at Philippa.
There was a flash of a photo being taken, and Honoria and Marcus Holroyd walked off with their skipping child, and now there was nothing between them and Colin.
“Look, loves, it’s your turn now!” Philippa ushered her kids forward. “Say hello!”
“Hello, Father Christmas!” Stilton greeted him very politely.
“Hello, Stilton! I think because your sister Brieanna is younger, she should have her chance to tell me what she would like for Christmas first. What do you think?” Colin boomed and finished by looking at Pen once again. She felt herself blush but tried to hold his gaze before he looked back to her nephew.
“Okay!” Stilton agreed, and Brieanna rushed forward and hopped onto Colin’s lap with little prompting.
“Hello, Brieanna! What would you like to see under your Christmas tree for yourself this year?” Colin asked sweetly as he directed his full attention to her.
“A Barbie!” she replied excitedly.
“A Barbie! Do you know what sort of Barbie you would like? Perhaps one with red hair like you,” he said.
“I want one like me, and a blonde one, and a Ken, and a house for them all to live in!” she listed.
“Oh, so you can have parties for them, like this one! That sounds like great fun,” Colin smiled. “I shall have to let the elves know to pack that in my magic sack. Do you think your brother could have his turn now?”
“Yeah,” she smiled, and Colin helped lower her to the ground so Stilton could take her place.
“And what would you like for Christmas this year?” Colin asked.
“I really want an Xbox, but Mum and Auntie Pen say that’s too big of a gift to ask you for, but I don’t know if I want anything else since I’m in school now and I’m too old for toys,” Stilton rambled.
“Your Mum and Auntie Pen are right, my boy. It would be better to ask your parents for something like that since I have so many gifts to give to other girls and boys. Doesn’t a remote-control car sound like a lot of fun, though?”
“…Yes,” Stilton said after thinking a few seconds. “Could I use it in the house?”
“I think that would be up to your Mum again, but as long as you don’t break anything I don’t see why you couldn’t,” Colin looked up at Philippa, who nodded. “Perhaps you could drive around your sister’s Barbie dolls in it, too!”
“Yeah!” he shouted.
Brieanna went back over and sat down on Colin’s other leg so Philippa could take a picture. As they returned to their mum, Pen thought she had gotten away from the interaction without having to say anything to Santa Colin, but then of course her sister had to go and say something as she started to turn towards the door.
“Maybe Auntie Pen wants a few moments with Father Christmas,” Philippa smirked.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—” Pen started to reply, but Philippa was not nervous and was thinking faster.
“Go on, Pen, you should sit on Santa’s lap,” her sister grinned.
“Yeah! Auntie Pen can ask for a present too!” Brieanna jumped excitedly.
Pen wasn’t sure if she wanted to push her sister into the closest table or hug her.
“Come here, Penelope, I’m sure there is something you would like to ask me,” Colin said in his low, gruff Santa voice. She couldn’t see his mouth through his fake beard, but his eyes crinkled in what she hoped was a smile. His arm opened wide, and with no excuse and so many people watching, she shuffled over in her tall boots as carefully as she could so she wouldn’t fall on top of him, turned her back, and bent down, placing her bottom on his lap.
She was stiff as she perched on top of him, but his hand came around her back to rest on her hip, and the other one gently touched her thigh, the feeling of his gloved hand on her bare skin already sending heat to her face. His fake stomach pressed into her side and leg, and she tried to stare at the wall in front of her rather than into his green eyes.
“Now, what would you like for Christmas, my dear?” he asked her, gently tugging her to settle into his arm a bit more, and as Pen leaned back and Colin peered around, she was forced to see the smirk evident on the small portion of his visible face. In her stupor for a few awkward moments, she could only focus on the rosy blush someone went to the effort of painting on his cheeks.
“Don’t you want to ask for something, Auntie Pen?” Stilton shuffled her out of her thoughts. “Everyone has something they want to as Father Christmas for.”
Her mind was frozen by the feeling of Colin’s hands on her hip and waist, and the deep stare he was giving her. She could not think of something inconsequential quickly enough. “Well, I’m not sure what I want—”
“How about a kiss under the mistletoe?” Philippa interjected, a shit-eating grin on her face.
Pen’s blush must have covered her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet from the heat that grew and spread and refused to dissipate. She wanted to dissolve into the carpet, but Colin “ho-ho-ho”-ed and said, “I think I can arrange that quite easily.”
She wasn’t sure if he was still playing the part or not, honestly.
“Yeah! Auntie Pen needs a boyfriend!” Stilton shouted, and Pen suppressed a growl in his direction. Instead, she turned her embarrassed wrath toward her sister.
“Yes, thank you for that, Pippa,” Pen ground out, trying to smile. “And thank you, Father Christmas. I’m sure you can sprinkle some magic and maybe it will bring me a little luck.”
The big, warm hand that rested on the thigh closest to his body gave her a firm, hard squeeze. “I think more than just a little luck is in order,” he said right in her ear, his low voice rumbling and sending a shock down her spine as she gasped. One of his fingers just slightly slipped under the band of her sock, and she thought she surely must be dreaming.
“You have a few more children to talk to in line,” she said as she hurriedly hopped off his lap. “It was so nice to talk with you, Father Christmas.”
“It was good to see you, Penelope. And of course, Stilton and Brienna, too,” he said, fumbling his façade for just a moment. Daphne and her family turned out to be the next in the queue, and Pen tried to keep a straight face as Colin’s sister wiggled her eyebrows at her and ushered her brood of children forward.
Once they were out of earshot of everyone else, Penelope angrily hissed, “What the fuck was that, Pip!?”
“Watch the cursing! And I was just helping you out a little bit,” she whispered. “He didn’t seem to mind.”
“I didn’t exactly want to talk to Colin in person for the first time in over a year in front of everyone else while he was dressed up in a white beard with a pillow stuffed into his coat!”
“You were into it.”
“I was not!”
“Then why were you the color of a tomato the entire time you sat on his lap?”
“If you had to sit on a man’s lap in a mini skirt you would blush too.”
“Only if I cared what the man thought of me. If it was anyone else, I would probably give them a show.”
“Well, I’m not you, Philippa, and now I don’t know how I’m meant to speak to Colin ever again,” Pen lamented.
“Based on how that went, there might not be any speaking going on the next time you see him—”
“Oh, shut it!” Pen huffed and stormed off toward the drink table in the kitchen.
She finished the rest of her punch in one go on her way. When she found the bowl, she filled her glass to the brim, ignoring the stares from everyone else lingering in the room. People here knew who she was, and it was uncomfortable. She wrote romance novels, and it wasn’t exactly easy to think about how these people probably read all the smut she wrote and associated it with the tiny girl with red pigtails and yellow ruffled dresses that was constantly skinning her knees as she tried to keep up with Eloise on her bike. Her friends in London did not care, of course, because they knew who she was, but here she was the second youngest Featherington sister, a daughter of the controlling and obnoxious Portia and the late Archie.
When you only see someone once a year after they turn sixteen, in their minds that is the age you become stuck at.
She hoped Colin didn’t think the same.
Though, she could hardly say that was the case after he touched her thigh like that. She didn’t think she was making something out of nothing, especially after the feeling of his gloved finger sliding under her sock, running it just under the edge, and his hand covering up half the exposed skin which she knew wasn’t easy because it wasn’t like she has small thighs—
“Where is Philippa?”
Pen startled out of her racing thoughts and turned to see her mother standing there. She wore a forest green wrap dress that was covered in glitter and was slightly over-dressed for the event, as usual.
“I’m not sure. We saw Father Christmas with the children and I left to get another drink.”
“Hmm,” she hummed and looked Pen up and down. “What are you wearing?” she said with that undeniable twinge of scandal.
Pen sighed. She knew this part was inevitable and the reason why she elected to leave the house with Pippa and the kids. “A sweater and a skirt, Mum.”
“A bit…revealing, is it not?” she ridiculed.
“Pip thought it looked nice.”
“Hmm. Let me know if you find her.”
“I will.”
When Portia walked off, Pen finally exhaled. If her mother had her way, Pen would have arrived at the party wearing a pair of wide-leg trousers and an oversized Christmas sweater that hid her body. Despite living on her own for many years now, her mother still sent her clothes that she heavily implied would be the best for her figure, meaning they were large tents of dresses that concealed every curve. Everything was always in some garish shade of green or yellow or pink, and covered in some kind of sequin or flower embellishment, “to distract the eye.” Penelope had long gotten over her guilt of saying ‘no’ to her and wore whatever she liked now, but it never grew easier to deal with the scowls or pitied looks her mother sent her way.
Pen finished a bit more of her drink before she refilled it one more time and went down the hall to find Eloise. She was right where she last saw her, except now instead of Catan she was fully immersed in a game of Yahtzee with her cousin’s widower and their kids.
“Hi, El. It’s good to see you Phil, Oliver, and Amanda,” she greeted everyone.
“Hi, Auntie Pen!” Amanda greeted her, her mouth full of what looked to be chocolate-covered popcorn as she enthusiastically waved. Oliver turned around and mumbled something that sounded like hello, but his mouth was equally as full, and he only spewed powdery crumbs all over his lap and a bit on the floor.
“You can join the next one, Pen, though I’m not unconvinced that some of these dice are loaded,” Eloise said as she glared at the giggling children.
“You use the same dice, Eloise,” Phil stated, trying not to laugh.
“Then they’ve cast a magic, evil spell over them or something. There is no reason why I should not have a Yahtzee by now—”
“Maybe you’re just bad,” Amanda sassed.
“She’s just a sore loser, darling,” Phil said, his lips fully disappearing as he pinched them together trying to keep his face stern but failing.
The twins turned out to be sore winners, but Amanda the most of all with her winning number of points. Philip did his best to mitigate it, but he couldn’t truly wipe off the smug smile from his daughter’s face. They started the next game and Pen fell into the rhythm of it, rolling the dice, determining which of them to set aside, rolling again, and once more, and then passing the cup and the dice along as she marked her scoresheet. There was little strategy and mostly luck at play, but she did have to admit the twins were quite good when they took an early lead once more.
She pushed Colin from her mind as best she could and focused on the game and the conversation. Strangely, she noticed just how often Eloise and Philip caught each other’s eyes and smiled at one another.
That was rather unexpected.
By the end of it, Oliver had won this time, and it was growing late for the children. Many of them had already departed for their own houses, put down to sleep so their parents could return to the party, or slept in one of the many guestrooms upstairs, as the twins were doing.
As Phil was off to put them down, Pen and Eloise made their way to the ballroom. The DJ had arrived a half hour before and was playing a mix of club music and Christmas classics. The adults were only tipsy at this point, but with the alcohol flowing, the dancing was already something to behold. Pen finished her cup of punch and set the empty glass down, watching as Eloise grabbed a few things from the snack table.
“I’m going to head outside for some air,” she said.
“Go up to the terrace. I don’t think anyone’s out there,” El suggested. “I’ll probably be upstairs. You know I don’t like to dance in big groups like this.”
Indeed, there was no one else on the second level outside. She walked past a few people milling around on the balcony that wrapped around above the entire ballroom, giving a great view of all the horrible dancing going on down below. when she opened one of the glass doors that led to the terrace overlooking the back garden, though, she found herself finally alone.
The cool air felt nice on her warmed skin, though without a coat she would grow chilled soon. She walked over to the edge and looked out at the rose bushes and trees, all wrapped up for the winter. There was even a decorated tree back here, with a few strings of lights and a star on top. A few torches lit up the narrow pathways, and there might have been one or two people walking around, but they probably couldn’t tell she was up there.
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the hard iron railing, and let the thoughts of Colin flood back in. What was that hand on her leg about? Why did Philippa mention mistletoe, and why did he go along with it? Surely it was just to keep up the illusion for the kids. He couldn’t have them thinking that certain people didn’t deserve a little Christmas magic. She wished she could have spoken with him earlier before he donned the Santa Claus garb, so he wasn’t trying to play a part and they could have had an actual conversation. There wouldn’t be any questions about his intentions behind his hand on her waist and leg as she sat on his lap, and perhaps she could have avoided the entire, public ordeal altogether. She groaned, sliding her fingers up through her hair and scratching at her scalp.
“Hey.”
Pen turned around at the familiar voice, and she saw Colin, hands behind his back and dressed in trousers and a horrific Christmas sweater that looked like it absorbed every other sweater in existence the last time it went through the wash. The fact that he managed to look dashingly handsome with a little bit of beard glue still stuck around his ears and in that brown and green and red and orange and yellow monstrosity was a feat, but there he was, his gorgeous brown hair falling in soft curls, still damp from the hasty shower he must have taken, and his crooked smile directed only at her.
“Hello,” she greeted him a bit shyly. “Have you been relieved of your Father Christmas duties for the evening?”
“I have. I think at this time of night they should all be sleeping, though Amelia was being rather boisterous upstairs when I was changing. She told Daphne that as the oldest cousin, she should be allowed to stay up with the adults since she was so close to being one,” Colin chuckled. Pen leaned back on the railing of the terrace as he stood in front of her, their feet nearly touching.
“Has she already started that teenager stuff? Isn’t she only eleven?” Pen laughed.
“I think it was more that she wanted to have one up on Edmund,” he smiled. “It is so nice to see you, Pen. I didn’t get to say earlier because I wanted to stay in character, but I really missed you a lot.”
“I missed you too, Colin,” she said, trying to keep her face neutral despite how nervous she felt when he mentioned what happened earlier. “Sorry about my sister. My family has been on my arse lately about ‘settling down’ now that Prudence is married, and they’ve all started to push my buttons any chance they get. You were caught in the crossfire.”
He chuckled. “It’s quite alright. Is Harry here? I’d like to meet him. You told me about him on the phone and he sounds…”
“Thick as a brick?” Pen smirked.
“Well, you said it, not me.”
She giggled into her hand. “They’re inside, yeah. He’s sweet enough. He gets along splendidly with Pru. She thinks she’s pregnant, but you can’t tell anyone yet. She just told me last night.”
“What about Felicity? Surely, she’s caught heat from your mum too.”
“She’s dating a lawyer. Geoffrey Albansdale.”
“When did that happen? I just talked to you three days ago,” he said.
“She brought him home for Christmas out of the blue. I guess they’ve been together since June but because she’s in Edinburgh, she kept it from us so Mum wouldn’t ruin it.”
“Smart girl,” he smiled.
Silence filled the space between them. Colin studied her, his unnaturally beautiful green eyes piercing through her walls, breaking them down so quickly she hardly felt it happening. Her heart was thumping, her legs shaking, and if she wasn’t leaning back onto the iron railing she might have dropped to the concrete. She pressed her lips together, unsure if she should mention sitting on his lap earlier, and how it didn’t mean anything at all and it was just her sister being a bitch and she shouldn’t have put him on the spot like that, and how funny it would be if they actually kissed under the mistletoe but there was no mistletoe in sight so that was out of the question—
“So, I believe Father Christmas promised you something earlier,” Colin said, and when his hands finally came around from behind his back, he was holding a sprig of mistletoe. He held it up above their heads and took a step toward her, their chests now touching so he could feel just how heavy she was breathing. Her face grew warm once again, and she knew she was blushing so bright he could probably see it even in the relative darkness. His head craned down so he could look into her features frozen in surprise, and one of his curls flopped into his face.
“Oh, you don’t have to, I know it was just for show—”
“No.”
No?
“No? What do you mean?” she exhaled.
“It wasn’t just for show, Penelope,” he whispered, his free hand taking hers, still dangling the plant above them with the other. “I’ve been longing for the day I could return home and kiss you like you deserve to be.” He started to lean down towards her, his lips hovering over hers, his warm breath tickling her face as she looked at his long eyelashes that fluttered as his gaze flicked between her mouth and her wide brown eyes.
Her lungs stopped working, and her heart fluttered. “When I sat on your lap, and you were holding me…touching my leg…I didn’t imagine that?”
“Trust me when I say if the room was empty, I would have done a lot more than slip my finger under those bloody thigh-highs,” he grumbled, taking her head in his hand. He had to lean quite far down, but the moment his lips met hers, Pen’s restraint broke.
Her fingers wove into his hair and pulled, holding him to her so she could slide her lips against his, her tongue invading his mouth as she whimpered. The mistletoe fell to the ground and her body bent back as he loomed over her, pressing her into him by her hips, his hands fisted in the hem of her sweater to control their roaming.
Pen no longer had such reservations.
She rolled herself against him, and his hard length pressed against her stomach through his trousers. She moaned, and Colin pulled back and took several deep breaths, his lips resting against her forehead. Her hands ran from his face to his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath the wool sweater and the bulk of his arms that threatened to burst the hideous thing at the seams.
“Colin,” she whined, trying to press him into kissing her again.
“It’s too cold out here,” he grumbled, a finger slipping beneath her sweater and touching the waistband of her skirt.
“I don’t care,” she said, pulling his face down and leaving kisses along his jaw, by his ear, down his neck.
He allowed her to pepper him with her love as she groped at him through his clothes, tracing up and down his sides, feeling his hot skin and the trail of hair on his stomach before she just barely touched his member, running a single finger on top of the hard lump in his trousers. Her teasing snapped him to attention, and he furiously pressed his lips to hers once more.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her by the hand. Thankfully his arousal was not too noticeable beneath his long sweater, but Pen was confused as to why he was taking her back into the crowded house.
He dragged her back into the ballroom, and she glanced down to the lower level to the flock of people as they dodged the lingering groups on the balcony. They were playing “Fairytale of New York” over the speakers and she thought she saw Anthony drunkenly skipping and screaming the lyrics, though he was stopped soon after by an equally drunk and more giggly Kate pulling him into a slow, awful approximation of a tango.
“Where are we going?” she asked him as he pressed a button and the “secret” door to the family wing opened up, the rectangular piece of wall seeming to pop out of the rest of it, revealing a dark, narrow staircase that Colin tugged her through.
“My room,” he explained as she shut the door behind them.
“Your childhood room that you only sleep in three days out of the year? The room that still has a single bed and airplane sheets and curtains?” she quirked a brow.
“If you have better ideas of where I could fuck you hard enough that your legs won’t work tomorrow, don’t be shy,” he said, and Pen had to fight to keep upright in her tall boots as her muscles went a bit limp and her center started to throb.
“We could go back to my house—”
“I won’t make it that far.”
They were on the landing now, but before he opened the door, he pressed her into it and kissed her again, his teeth biting her lower lip as he pulled back, wrenching himself away from her with great reluctance despite how close they were to their goal. Pen’s head was so light she knew she had to lie down, and thankfully Colin’s room was close. She pawed at him, touching his hips and his forearms and shoulders and wherever she could reach as he fumbled with the handle for a moment. Pen pushed and she was pulled, and they made it into their private refuge, and she saw the pile of red velvet and brass buttons on the floor next to one of his pillows as his hands lifted her sweater above her head and off her body.
“You didn’t even fold your Santa costume,” Pen laughed as she started to unbutton his pants. “I guess velvet is unlikely to crease.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking about preserving the integrity of the Bridgerton family Father Christmas attire when I had a woman dressed in a mini skirt and thigh-high socks and a very revealing, very pretty green sweater waiting for me to bring her some mistletoe so I could kiss her senseless,” he smirked.
She pushed his trousers and underwear down his hips in one motion as he leaned forward and reached for the clasp to her bra on her back, and flicked it open with one hand.
Something about that motion was far too attractive, and she thought she must be going insane.
She slipped the garment down her arms and threw it into a corner. Colin attempted to find the closure to her skirt as she lifted the sweater and his undershirt off him, but he couldn’t seem to get it right, feeling around blindly in the dim room for some clip or button that didn’t exist.
“It stretches—just push it down,” she instructed as she took him in hand and started to gently stroke up and down his length.
Colin took her orders, hooked his thumbs around all of the fabric, and shoved everything to the floor. She tried to pull him to her so she could feel his skin on her bare body, but instead, he stepped back.
One of the windows was open, letting in the light of the moon and stars outside, casting everything with a blue glow. Penelope’s mind, of course, only supplied the worst reasons why he waited so long to have sex with her, why he called her more often than anything, and she hated it. She was here with him, his cock full-mast and standing erect against his stomach, his skin somehow still golden even in the cool light, a sly crooked grin on his lips as he stared at her, taking in her form.
Something about being naked made it feel less like a dream, a bit of her boldness fading.
She tried to resist the urge to cross her arms in front of herself, but ultimately failed, one hand moving up to fold across her large, slightly droopy breasts, and the other sliding over her thick thigh to cover the tidy curls at her center. The moment she started, however, Colin caught her wrist in a firm grip and held her arms away from herself.
“Don’t hide. I’ve waited two years to see you,” he breathed, looking down at her breasts, mouth agape as he looked in a sort of wonder.
“I just—I know that—I know there’s a reason why—you couldn’t say something before—why you only wanted to talk on the phone—” she stammered under his appraising and appreciative gaze.
“You say that like we didn’t Facetime too, when I had reliable internet,” he grumbled. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve spent too long aching to hold you in my arms, to see you with no clothes on, to watch your face as you fall apart beneath me. I love you, Pen, and I want all of you, I need every single part of your body and heart.” He kissed her once as a sort of reassurance, and then his lips found her neck, his teeth gently dragging on her skin and sending shivers up her back as she dug her nails into his shoulders.
“You love…love me?” she stammered, managing to wrench him back up from her body so she could look at him again, even as he continued to be distracted by her, gathering her hair in his fist at the nape of her neck so he could pull it gently back. She slid her hands from his chest to his hips, her fingertips drawing circles as they flirted with touching his bum.
“I do. And don’t feel like you need to say it back just because I said it first, I don’t care, but I just wanted you to know. You’re standing in front of me, so, so beautiful and I had to tell you before I burst with adoration and desire and joy and—and everything else, every emotion I’ve hidden but has probably been evident on my face every single time I’ve talked to you in the last few years.”
With his declaration, all the hesitation and doubt melted away from her. “I love you, Colin. I have for—well, for a long time. I never wanted to get my hopes up, but…I wished that the reason why you were talking to me so often was because maybe I had a chance.”
“You have more than a chance,” he grinned, his palms sliding down her body, tracing the valleys and hills of her waist, her hips, her thighs. The feeling of him against her sent a wave of heat that settled between her legs, her breath quickening as her pulse thumped in her ears. “You have all of me, Penelope.”
Emboldened by his words, she finally slipped her hand around his length as he hissed and grunted with pleasure. He started walking forward, forcing her to take careful steps back as she continued to slide her hand up and down, stroking him in what she hoped was an achingly, agonizingly slow manner. She felt the backs of her legs hit the tiny bed, and the thing still gave a creak and a whine despite barely touching it.
“You need to stop that. I’ve been half-hard from the moment I saw you this evening, and I would hate for this to be over too quickly,” he huffed and tried to take her hand away.
“I guess it’s a good thing you had that pillow on your lap all evening,” she smirked and redoubled her efforts. “Does Father Christmas have something for me in his magic sack?” she purred seductively with a slight squeeze of his balls as her other hand stroked him slowly.
“Lucky for you, he has a pretty big North Pole too,” Colin chuckled deeply. Pen couldn’t help herself, and couldn’t stop touching and stroking him, so instead of fighting her, he knelt and caused her to release her grip as he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. Pen shrieked, mostly from how much the mattress and frame bent and sprang back up from her velocity, worried the wood slats on the small, old piece of furniture might snap.
“My stocking is ready to be filled,” she said a little breathlessly as she bit her lip and smiled. “It feels so very empty. Santa might fill it with his big lump of coal, though, since I’ve been quite naughty lately,” she said, licking a stripe up his neck and biting the skin where his pulse thumped in his veins as he leaned over to kiss her, her legs still hanging off the edge of the bed, her head on the other side of the narrow mattress.
“I think Father Christmas would say you’ve been a very good girl, Pen,” he grinned impishly, kissing along her body, pausing to bite at her hard nipples before he went down, down, down. “Good girls only receive the best gifts for Christmas.”
“Well thank God for that,” she sighed as his fingers slipped along her soaking wet center, dragging the slick from her entrance up to her clit, the buzz of pleasure as he touched it causing her back to arch off the bed.
“You’ll be thanking Colin by the end of this,” he said, his breath tickling her, cooling as it blew across the juices gathered in her folds and curls.
She didn’t have time to think of a witty, snarky retort because his tongue came out and licked one long, flat stroke up her, just tasting her. She let out a shaky exhale as he pulled back, swallowing and savoring her flavor. She couldn’t think anymore, not as he looked at her, his fingers spreading her apart so he could see the petals of her vulva, red with heat and lust and wanting, throbbing with desire. She could just see the top of his head when she peered down over the mountains of her breasts and the curve of her stomach, the brown curls springing through her fingers as she dragged her hands through his hair and tried to push his head down.
Colin only laughed and licked her once more, just one stroke, and Pen whined, her hips bucking into the air. She burned inside, the warm heat had built up into an inferno, the flames taking over her limbs as she desperately searched for relief.
Finally, when his lips latched onto her clit and started to suck and flick and circle, it came.
She groaned as he furiously pleasured her, obscene slurping and humming coming from his mouth as his tongue worked magic and his fingers entered her and pressed up onto the spot that made her toes curl into his back and her thighs quake. Some of the pressure inside released but somehow continued to build, like he just barely cracked open her bottle top and then twisted it shut again and started shaking her around. She directed him to what she liked with a few words but mostly her noises, and he listened for what made her cry out the loudest, what made her whine and tug at his hair the hardest. She writhed on the airplane sheets, the bed groaning and creaking with every movement, and eventually, Colin stopped directing her hips and let her grind against his face, his tongue steadily licking and stroking her as she found the pace that eventually allowed her to explode.
She might have screamed, but she didn’t notice. Her legs clamped down on his head as she tensed and came undone, pulling his face tightly into her. Her hands left his hair and instead fisted in her own as her body bowed off the mattress, the ecstasy twisting and curling and spiraling inside of her, slowly calming and eventually retreating, the shocks fading into twinges and finally settling into a blissful buzzing.
Colin’s smug face appeared as he stood up and leaned over, resting his arms on either side of her head, his feet still on the floor but their chests and noses touching.
“What do you think? Did Father Christmas live up to expectations?” he asked, and though he looked like the cat that got the cream, she could hear the genuine apprehension in his voice slipping through his bravado.
“I think he more than exceeded them,” she reassured him.
He brightened, and then directed her, “Lay back on the pillows for me?”
“I have a better idea,” she said with a bit of mischief. “How about you lay back, and I take a ride on your sleigh?”
Colin laughed, taken by surprise by her boldness. “You want me to go up your chimney?”
“You better hurry, Santa, baby,” she giggled, and Colin helped her to her feet so he could arrange himself on the bed.
“Let’s get you rocking around this Christmas tree,” he said, and with Pen’s laugh, he added, “Okay, I’m done, that’s the last one, I swear.”
Pen swung her leg up and over his thighs, inching forward so her hips met his. “How do you sleep on this? Your feet are hanging off the end,” she remarked as she lined herself up with his length, hovering above him as his hands had a white-knuckle grip on her hips.
“Usually in the fetal position. This room isn’t exactly warm, either, so I can’t really spread out,” he grunted as she wiggled her center, her slick gliding across his member and giving him a taste of what was to come if she would just stop teasing him.
“I’ve noticed,” she smiled, her palm running along the goosebumps on his arm in time with her grinding.
“I only sleep here a week out of the year anyway, so it isn’t exactly—ugh, God, Pen,” he moaned as she took him in her small hand and just barely pressed his tip inside of her warmth.
“What do you think, will I be on the naughty list next year?” she smirked.
“You can be on whatever bloody list you want as long as I can fuck you for the rest of eternity,” he grunted as he used his grip to push her down as he thrust up into her, impaling her to the hilt with his hot, hard member, ripping a surprised cry and whimper from her lips.
Like second nature, they found their rhythm together, Pen’s grinding matching Colin’s pounding. It was not gentle, but somehow it felt loving, careful, aching, passionate. His hands landed on her boobs, holding them and playing with her hardened nipples for just a moment before he decided he preferred to watch them bounce and move with her. One of his fingers found her clit again, rubbing it in time with the rolling of her hips.
She was so full, so exposed, and she didn’t care. She moaned the moment she felt his thumb once more working her up to an orgasm, her walls already squeezing his length tight enough to pull a groan from him.
“So gorgeous, Pen,” he panted, and she realized she must have closed her eyes at some point because when she opened them he was staring at her with so much adoration and love in his eyes, completely contrary to what he was doing with his thrusting. She rested her palms on his chest and leaned over so she could kiss him, and he took over with most of the work, pounding up into her as their tongues danced. He pulled her hair tightly, holding it away from her face, and he gripped onto her thigh once his hand didn’t fit between them anymore. The climax was coming anyway, building and clenching tightly inside of her, begging for just a little more.
“I need–” she moaned, unable to vocalize exactly what it was that she wanted.
“You’re so good, Pen, such a good girl, baby,” he purred in her ear. “Are you going to come for me?”
Pen whined in response, and Colin picked up his pace, snapping his hips up, and there.
“Oh, that’s what you needed, my good girl,” he cooed, frantically driving inside of her again and again, steady but hard, sure, sharp.
“Ahhh!” she cried, so close to release, finally crawling towards the precipice, listening to Colin’s grunts and the smacks of their skin, feeling their sweat mingling on their thighs and his breath on her face. She leaned up slightly, her hair tumbling around them in a curtain as she grabbed one of the cold metal bars of his headboard, digging her fingernails into her skin, falling up, up, up, and for the second time that hour, she shattered into pieces.
She registered that Colin must have done the same because he let out a moan of relief and she could feel him spurting inside of her, filling her with his seed. She clenched and squeezed and milked him dry, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Eventually, her arms and legs started to fail to hold her upright, so she collapsed on top of him, his softening erection still inside her.
“You alright?” he asked quietly, kissing her gently on her head.
“Perfect,” she sighed contentedly, relaxing into him.
“I know we need to go back downstairs, but…” he trailed off.
“Give me fifteen minutes to let the feeling come back into my legs.”
They didn’t exactly have space to lay next to one another, so she removed herself from his cock, their mixed fluids spilling a bit all over him and her inner thighs and the bed but she didn’t care. She lay on top of him, her chin propped up on his chest as she ran her fingers through the surprisingly thick hair that grew there.
“So, was Mrs. Claus satisfied with part one of her gift this year?” he smirked, stroking her bum with one hand.
“Mrs. Claus?” she quirked a brow as she looked at him. “And what do you mean, part one?”
“Father Christmas has a wife, doesn’t he? So you’re Mrs. Claus,” he explained. “And I already bought you something, though maybe now it seems a bit…much.”
“Colin, what did you do?”
“I bought you a new laptop. I know you’re always complaining that you can’t take your big PC tower to a coffee shop when you get tired of working at your flat, so I thought you would appreciate something portable. It’s…well, it’s a Macbook Air, actually,” he said sheepishly.
“You didn’t!” she gasped, sitting up a little.
“I did. And you can’t return it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“Hmmp,” she huffed, but she did smile. “I do appreciate it, a lot. Thank you, Colin,” she said.
“Sorry the surprise is ruined a bit, but I didn’t want you to think that I bought it just because we’re dating now, or something. I bought it months ago, actually, but I was always a bit unsure if it was too much of a gift, but you’ve been a good friend for so long, and my best friend for a while now, and I wanted to do something nice for you that made your life easier and more enjoyable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was already falling head over heels for you,” he admitted.
“I love you, Colin,” she said.
“I love you too, Pen.”
~
When they went back downstairs, hand in hand, they didn’t even draw odd looks from the drunk partygoers. Pen was a little offended if she was honest.
“Do you want to dance?” Colin asked, looking down at her. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” the Frank Sinatra version, played over the speakers, and a few couples swayed to the music.
“I would love to,” she smiled.
She knew Colin could actually dance, but instead of taking her into a position for a waltz or a salsa or a tango, he put both of his hands on her waist and she reached up and placed hers around his shoulders, like a secondary school mixer, and they just swayed to the music.
He leaned his head on top of hers, and she buried her head in his chest. She could hear him humming the tune, his throat vibrating with his humming.
“I’ll always be home for Christmas for you, Pen,” he said quietly.
“I know you will, Colin,” she replied.
“I know I don’t exactly have an easy job to deal with, since I’m away all the time. But of course you know that, you know it all, don’t you?” he huffed out a laugh.
“I don’t know if it will be easy to be with someone who writes raunchy romance novels. I’ve had my fair share of dissenters and religious zealots telling me I’m going to hell, that I’m corrupting our children, or whatever,” she sighed. “I can deal with you traveling. I’m used to it by now, really.”
“Would you…maybe…want to go with me? You don’t have to be in the show if you don’t want to, but it might be fun for me to show you all my favorite places,” he asked her hesitantly.
Penelope’s heart soared. “That would be amazing, Colin,” she said brightly.
“You wouldn’t necessarily have to be on the show, I think, but you know I’ve wanted to change things up for a while, and you can still work on your books if you bring your laptop, or you can take a break, but I can take you to Brazil, or Thailand, or Alaska, or Fiji, or—”
“I would be happy to be on your show,” she interrupted his nervous rambling. “And I think I would like somewhere warm, at least this time of year.”
“Thailand, definitely. And we can visit Fiji once the rainy season is over,” he grinned, and before she knew what was happening he had swept her up into his arms and turned her over in a very dramatic dip, his lips meeting hers as she clung to his shoulders in her surprise. One leg popped up to keep herself balanced, but she squeezed her thighs together to hopefully prevent the room from seeing her panties. She heard a few wolf whistles from the edge of the dancefloor, and when he righted her she saw they came from his brothers and Philippa. Prudence stared at her open-mouthed, and Harry clapped enthusiastically. The rest of the groups still in the ballroom cooed and smiled at them from their own dances or conversations. She thought she might have seen Violet crying from a chair next to the snack table, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her shirt, an empty glass of wine next to her.
Pen blushed brightly, but as the next song started, some mix of “Carol of the Bells” and EDM, Colin dragged her even further onto the dancefloor.
She danced, and laughed, and kissed, and when they went to bed that night in her room across the road, she couldn’t imagine a better Bridgerton Christmas party.