A Daddy for Christmas 3: Felix (Daddy for Christmas 3 is a multi-author #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Clayton

The elf hat sat crooked on my head no matter how many times I adjusted it.

The tights itched in all the wrong places, the stripes too pale to look festive—more “washed-out candy cane” than “holiday cheer.” But I tried to smile anyway.

It was Christmas. And Christmas was supposed to make people happy.

The little boy in front of me stared like I’d dropped in from another planet. I waved.

He blinked and pointed solemnly at my shoes. “They’re curly.”

I looked down at the ridiculous upturned toes. “They are,” I agreed softly, clicking my heels together like Dorothy. He didn’t laugh, but I didn’t mind. I was often guilty of misreading my audience.

His mother herded him toward Santa with the weary determination of someone whose coffee was wearing off. I stood by, smoothing my tunic and telling myself—again—that I loved Christmas.

And I did. I’d spent twenty years proving it, planning window displays and light shows and charity toy drives as the Christmas Events Coordinator for Thomas the draft by the kitchen door whistled its own Christmas carol, and the bathroom window refused to shut properly.

But repairs took money I didn’t have. And when the house had been warm with Mom’s laughter and goofiness, you didn’t notice the cracks.

The kids helped, though. Their joy was real and messy and loud. When a little girl tugged on my sleeve to show me her sparkly reindeer sweater, I bent down to admire it properly. When another shyly offered me half a cookie, I accepted with reverence like it was a gift from a queen herself.

By noon, the ache in my back had settled in like an old friend, but I couldn’t stop watching the children’s faces light up. Maybe this wasn’t the career I’d imagined, but it still mattered. Christmas always mattered.

I kept thinking about Jason. My emotional safe space. Years of routines, comfort, rules. Vanished.

Except the further I was away from that relationship, I knew it hadn’t been a good one. I’d settled for what I thought I could get. Because someone needed me and it was a giddy feeling.

Lunch break wasn’t a break. I closed my eyes. Tried not to picture our apartment. Jason’s apartment. I’d paid my share of rent and utilities, even when it got so hard along with Mom’s bills. Then I was let go from him as well.

I was barely upright by seven. Every muscle screamed.

Even the arch of my foot had joined the rebellion, throbbing in time with my pulse.

The mall crowd had thinned, mostly stragglers now, and I kept glancing at the clock like it might save me.

The last fat hand crawled toward closing, and I could already taste the cold air outside, the silence, the ache of my own bed—

“Uncle Felix, look, there’s Santa. We gotta hurry.”

The name hit like a candy cane to the temple.

Felix.

I froze. There he was, standing out from the herd like a wolf among sheep. Tall, broad, ginger beard trimmed perfectly, red hair catching every bit of the mall’s harsh lighting, and those sharp blue eyes scanning the space like he owned it.

I’d seen him at the club. Everyone had. He wasn’t just a Dom, he was the Dom, the one everyone whispered about, the one with all the confidence and none of the patience for bullshit. I’d never spoken to him. Not once. Not my league. Not even the same sport.

But I knew him.

And now here he was, in front of Santa’s Workshop, with a polite little nephew in tow, and me—Clayton the Elf—smelling faintly of vomit and humiliation. I’d tried to sponge out the stench after little Gemma lost her lunch, but this costume retained odors with supernatural stubbornness.

For a second I couldn’t breathe. The bell on my hat jangled when I jerked my head down, trying to vanish. Please god. Please don't let him see me. Not like this.

But Felix didn’t miss a thing. His eyes swept the set, landed right on me, and there was this moment where time just stopped. His gaze sharpened. Recognition.

No. No, no—

He didn’t react, not at first. Just that stillness, like a predator waiting. The kid tugged him forward and beamed up at me.

“Excuse me, Mr. Elf,” he said, voice clear and friendly. “Thank you for helping make this so fun. I can’t wait to tell Santa I’ve been extra good for him today.”

Felix smiled briefly then guided his nephew forward into the line. His eyes never left me. The air in my lungs went thin. The humiliation burned right up my neck to my ears. Humiliation kink had always been a hard no for me, despite Jason's attempts to persuade me otherwise.

I tried to turn away but there was nowhere to go, not with the velvet ropes and the stares and the goddamn curly shoes. Peppermint Pete perked up, tossing a candy cane to a toddler and batting his eyelashes at a pair of moms. He didn’t notice the tension. Nobody did. Except Felix.

He’d always looked so untouchable at the club, leather and power, the kind of man who didn’t even see guys like me. If he did, he’d only see a mess. Jason’s leftovers, now serving cheap candy canes and minor public embarrassment.

I tried to focus on the line, on the next kid, the next candy cane.

But every nerve was locked on Felix’s eyes, the way his mouth quirked when his nephew spoke so politely, the way he didn’t bother smoothing the kid’s hair or fussing over him like the other parents.

Felix just let him be. Big hand on the kid’s shoulder, steady but light.

You could tell he was used to being in charge and didn’t have to prove it to anyone.

The line shuffled forward. My stomach dropped every time the gap closed.

I kept my head down. He’d forget me, or at least pretend to, and that would be better for both of us.

Except he didn’t look away.

It was like being pinned in place. My whole body tensed. The bell on my hat was going to jingle again if I so much as breathed. I did my best not to.

His nephew was well-behaved, sweet. I envied that, the way the kid stood up so straight, chin high, like he believed the world might still be kind. Felix gave him that, I thought. Not by coddling, but just… standing behind him, solid, like a wall nothing could get through.

The world went a little blurry around the edges. I barely heard Pete flirting, barely saw the moms with their phones, the giggling toddlers in puffer jackets. All I saw was Felix, watching me.

He must have known. He had to. I remembered seeing him in the club, voice low, eyes cold, every sub in the place going weak-kneed just at his stare. He was a legend.

Me? I was the guy who never got picked. Not even once. Not for anything. Until Jason. And sure, now that I was a few months away, I knew our relationship hadn’t been perfect, but it had been a relationship. I hadn’t been on my own.

My hands started to sweat. I almost dropped the candy canes. Tried to rearrange them, but one snapped in my grip, and the broken edge dug into my palm. I let the pain settle me. Breathed slow, in through my nose, out through my mouth.

“Almost our turn, Max,” Felix said. His voice made my spine lock. “You remember what you want to tell Santa?”

“Yes, Uncle Felix.” The boy was nearly bouncing on his toes but didn’t move out of line. “I made a list, I didn’t forget.”

Felix’s eyes flicked to mine again, then away, then back. No smile. Not mocking. Just… seeing. Deep, slow, like he was flipping through pages in a book and he’d already found the part about me.

My knees threatened to give. I gripped the velvet rope harder.

I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be seen like this, red-faced and pathetic, the last act of a washed-up nobody. But there was nowhere to run.

Max beamed when it was finally his time.

No tears, no screaming, just pure excitement.

The kind that hurt to look at. The kind that made me miss my job all over again.

I’d even had to double for Santa once. He’d been sick, a seasonal flu, and I’d stepped in and loved every second.

Julie in cosmetics had even bought me a special flashing Santa tie to wear with my suit.

I motioned him forward, forced a smile. “Santa’s waiting for you, Max.”

He nodded solemnly and approached, hands clasped, like it was a test he wasn’t sure he’d pass.

Mall Santa did the routine. Asked what he wanted, patted his back, posed for a tasteful photo. Max answered every question perfectly. Felix stood at the edge, arms folded, watching, watching like he was waiting for me to trip over my own feet.

I gripped the velvet rope. Tried to keep my face blank. Didn’t work. My cheeks burned so hot I felt dizzy.

Why did it have to be him seeing me like this? Not that it mattered. For all I knew, he’d laugh about it later with someone better-looking, better dressed, better everything—

Peppermint Pete did the picture. Mall Santa handed over another candy cane. Felix’s nephew stood so straight for their photo you’d think Santa was signing a job offer. The whole time, Felix just… watched me.

“Alex, say thank you to the nice elf,” one of the moms in line chirped, not even looking at me.

But Max did as he came out. He looked up at me, eyes wide and blue and so full of hope it made my chest hurt.

“Thank you, Mr. Elf. I hope your feet don’t hurt as much as Santa’s.” Max beamed.

I nearly choked. “Have fun with your Christmas list, Max.”

He beamed at me and skipped back to Felix, and for a split second, Felix’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. More like… approval. The memory of seeing him at the club, cold and perfect and so out of reach, slammed into me. I looked away, heart pounding.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. But I felt it. Heavy and hot, like being pressed into a mattress and told not to move.

I liked that feeling.

Too much.

I tried to fade away while Felix collected his nephew, but even as he checked the picture on his phone, he didn’t lose track of me for a second. My hands shook. I wiped them on my tunic, but it didn’t help.

The mall was nearly empty when they left. I didn’t look up as they passed. Couldn’t. But Felix slowed, just for a second, right in front of me. Voice low, pitched for me and nobody else.

“Good job. You have a way with the kids.” His gaze dropped, took in the way my hands fisted in the stripes of my tights, the sweat on my neck. “Don’t let them get to you.”

My mouth was dry. “Yes, sir,” I mumbled. I sounded like I’d swallowed glass.

He tilted his head, considering. “Good boy.” Like it was a promise. Like it was a test.

I watched them go, heart drumming a tribal march. Me, in my ridiculous hat, cursed shoes, and a stain that could qualify as modern art.

I should’ve hated that he saw me at my lowest. But a small, pathetic part of me relished it. Because for one brief, horrifying minute, the man who seemed too perfect to notice men like me… actually noticed me.