Insomnia and Chocolate Ice Cream
Tags: A rather willful reader (you), NSFW, Protected sex.
summaryďźA sweet, mundane slice-of-life with an attached couple (maybe).
Some personal headcanons.
Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Youâd had this thought for a long time. He was wearing that black digital watch the first time you met him. But you always felt that adult men should wear mature analog watches. This kind of digital watch seemed more like something a high school or college student would preferâsomething a kid would wear.
That day, after finishing your morning routine, you sat down at the table ready for breakfast. As he placed the plate of pancakes in front of you with his left hand, your gaze inadvertently fell on that bulky black digital watch on his wrist.
In an instant, you felt much more awake, the last traces of sleepiness vanishing completely. You couldn't help but laugh. He knew that laugh of yours all too wellâevery time you laughed like that, he knew he was in for a series of childish questions.
"What is it? What's so funny?" He was about to sit down opposite you.
"Leon, don't you know? Wearing a watch like that makes you look like a high schooler who snuck into his dad's suit."
He was just about to retort when you continued, "Only middle schoolers and sporty college students are obsessed with these multi-function digital watches! Mature men should wear the kind of analog watches that go 'tick-tock'!"
He raised his wrist, stating factually with a straight face: "This is a MIL-STD-810H military-spec tactical watch. Built-in barometer, gyroscope, and satellite positioning." His utterly serious expression made him seem even more like a kid defending his favorite toy!
Sitting in your chair, tilting your head back slightly to look at him, you poked the watch face with your finger: "But it goes 'beep beep'! And it can measure how many steps you've taken! It's basically the trendiest children's toy!"
He knew he couldn't win this argument. When it came to bantering with you, he was always the one to yield.
"Alright, 'Wristwatch Appraisal Expert Miss,' take a break and eat your breakfast first, okay?" He cut a piece of pancake with a deadpan expression and fed it to you.
Your mouth was full, but you kept "elaborating" on how cute he looked wearing that watch, just like a high schooler.
He just listened quietly, his gaze soft as he looked at you, unaware of the sheer tenderness hidden in his own eyes at that moment.
For your safety, he occasionally taught you some self-defense techniques, and had even wanted to teach you how to shoot.
The night before, you were too excited to sleep. Lying in bed, you hugged one of his arms, half your body pressed against him, your head pillowed on his chest, muttering softly:
"I'm so looking forward to actually touching a gun tomorrow! Maybe I'm a shooting prodigy!"
"Will you teach me to turn and shoot quickly like in the movies?"
"What if I'm a better shot than you? Will you call me 'Master'?"
"Don't fall asleep! Tell me more about different guns!" You even reached out to rub his face.
"No, that's too early for you."
"We'll talk when you're actually a better shot than me." He was always confident in his shooting skills.
"Finally, staying quiet is an important skill too." His eyes were closed, lying flat on his back in his standard sleeping position, letting your nose nuzzle against his collarbone, his tone resigned. But you saw the unconscious upturn of his lips.
His utterly emotionless voice did nothing to dampen your enthusiasm. You continued to chirp away in his ear.
Until he finally couldn't take it anymore and let out a soft sigh. One hand gently covered your mouth, the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He rolled over, pinning you down with controlled strength, and casually pulled the quilt up to your neck.
"Sleep. That's an order."
Startled by his sudden movement, and hearing his words, you had no choice but to obediently quiet down, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, proactively making a zipping motion over your lips and quickly closing your eyes.
At the shooting range, the array of different gun models made your eyes sparkle, as if filled with shattered stars.
"Wow! This one's so cool, and that one's so cool too! And this one! Wow!" You were like a little squirrel seeing a field full of nuts, overjoyed.
"Leon! Can I use this one? It's so cool!" You looked at him with pleading eyes, like a puppy wagging its tail begging for treats.
You knew he couldn't resist that look.
He followed your pointing finger. It was a .50 caliber Desert Eagle. Beautiful appearance, powerful, but too large for a beginner; the recoil was something you couldn't handle.
He usually indulged you in small things, but not today. Not now.
"No. 'Cool' doesn't put food on the table. What's suitable is important. You're using this one." He hauled you away from those 'beasts' with ease, as effortlessly as picking up a kitten. You even wondered if you had any weight in his hands.
Then he picked up the beginner's pistol, swiftly ejected the magazine, checked the chamber, and showed you the basic components. His movements were clean and efficient, full of professionalism. When he handed you that most basic, small pistol, the light in your eyes instantly dimmed.
Leon stood behind you, close, one hand on your waist, the other gently supporting your gun-holding wrist. His chest was pressed against your back, his warm breath brushing past your ear.
"Stance steady, center of gravity slightly forward." His voice was low, right by your ear. You could even feel his body heat through the fabric, your cheeks warming involuntarily.
He adjusted your grip, his fingers gently enveloping your hand, the temperature of his fingertips making your heart race. "Don't let your wrist droop. Like this." His voice was so close.
The first time you pulled the trigger, even though you were prepared, the recoil and the loud bang still startled you. You instinctively shrank back, right into his embrace.
He steadied your shoulders calmly. "Breathe. Control it, don't let it control you."
If you accidentally hit somewhere near the bullseye, you'd immediately forget your fear, turn around excitedly, and shout at him, "Did you see that?! Am I a prodigy?!"
Leon would then gently press your shoulders, turning you back to face the lane, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "Stay focused, prodigy. The next bullet won't fly out on its own."
You couldn't sleep. Lying flat on your back, eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling in the night.
Suddenly, you wanted ice cream. But the stash in the fridge had been finished three days ago.
You turned your head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. In the darkness, you could just make out the hour digit glowing '3' â 3 a.m. Probably only the 24-hour convenience store would still be lit up at this hour.
You looked down and saw his peaceful sleeping face. A wave of petty irritation washed over you. "Stupid Leon, I can't sleep, and he's sleeping so soundly," you complained inwardly, unable to resist reaching out to pinch his cheek.
No reaction. He just furrowed his brows slightly.
"Little pig!" You fumed silently, pinching his cheek again, gently.
He still didn't wake up. You simply patted his face. "Leon, wake up. Come on, wake up."
You could feel his breath warm and slightly ticklish against your collarbone.
"What is it? What's wrong?" The agent's alertness made him wake up almost instantly. He sat up, scanning your bedroom, and after finding everything normal, gave you a slightly reproachful look.
You saw the confusion in his eyes quickly fade, replaced by their usual sharpness.
"I want ice cream!! Chocolate! You go buy it for me right now!" you said, burrowing into his embrace, your cheek gently nuzzling against his neck. With each breath, you inhaled the scent of hisâand yourâshared shower gel.
"Hngh..." He sighed in resignation. "Do you know what time it is?" He stared at you, feigning seriousness, trying to awaken your 'conscience.' But the moment he saw your wide, pleading 'puppy dog eyes,' his heart softened again. Well, he was your boyfriend. And he could never refuse you.
"There's yogurt in the fridge. Make do with that." He patted your back gently.
"No! I want ice cream! Right now!" You lifted your head, stating your case righteously.
Then you tightly wrapped your arms around his solid bicep, whining and wriggling in his embrace like a small animal lacking a sense of security.
He knew your stubborn side all too wellâonce you got an idea in your head, you wouldn't give up until you got your way.
You heard him sigh softly. "Alright, fine. You're impossible."
"But... you have to come with me. Otherwise, no deal." He knew you too well, guessing you probably didn't want to leave the warm bed. This move usually worked, making you abandon your midnight ice cream craving and let him hold you until morning.
He stood by the bed, looking down at you, that smug smirk on his face irritating you immensely. Hesitating for three seconds, you declared loudly, "Fine, let's go!"
You immediately jumped out of bed, grabbed one of his hoodies and pulled it over your pajamas, then took his hand and pulled him towards the door.
He hadn't expected you to be so determined today, and could only follow helplessly.
It was early autumn, and the wind in the early hours carried a chill. You pulled up the hood and clung tightly to his arm, your face buried in the crook of his neck, sticking to him like a clingy kitten. His hoodie was far too big on you; the hem reached mid-thigh, the sleeves hung way past your hands, and with the hood up, it almost completely obscured your face. Plus, it smelled entirely of him.
He half-carried, half-dragged you towards the 24-hour convenience store near the apartment.
Standing in front of the freezer, you still clung to his arm. Of course, you didn't just grab one box of chocolate. Seeing the matcha flavor made you stop in your tracks, and you wanted to grab a vanilla one too, but he stopped you in time, citing "for the sake of your health."
As he was about to pull out his wallet at the checkout, you suddenly placed a small box on the counterâa small, square foil packet, printed with a universally recognized brand logo, right next to the two boxes of ice cream.
You linked your arm with his and whispered, "Since we're already here..."
He caught sight of the word 'Ultra Thin' on it. His hand, reaching for his wallet, paused. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly. Then, without changing his expression, he said to the cashier, "Together."
But you saw his ears, turning bright red against his fair skin, strikingly obvious, red all the way to the tips, as if they could drip blood.
On the way back, he seemed to suddenly understand something, a knowing, teasing smileâthe kind reserved just for youâspreading across his face, like a sly little fox who'd gotten his way. He lowered his voice, speaking close to your ear, "So... this was the real plan for tonight?"
You didn't answer, burying your face deeper into the crook of his neck, though this time it wasn't because you were sleepy. He chuckled and continued to tease you, "Shy now? Where was all that boldness earlier?"
With a little burst of irritation, you lightly pounded his chest a few times.
His arm around your waist felt slightly feverish. His other hand held the convenience store plastic bag, containing the box of chocolate ice cream destined to be forgotten, and that small, foil-wrapped box that would determine the course of the night.
The moment you entered the house, the plastic bag landed on the entryway console with a soft rustle. Before you could even turn on the light, he had spun you around and pressed you against the door, his warm kiss descending upon you. Unlike his usual gentleness, this kiss held a distinct hunger. His tongue pried your lips apart, carrying the cool freshness of mint and his unique scent. You rose onto your toes to respond, your arms wrapping around his neck, the oversized sleeves of the hoodie slipping down to reveal your slender arms.
"In such a hurry?" he panted against your lips during a brief moment for air, his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie, skimming over the thin fabric of your pajamas at your waist. His palms were scorching, slightly calloused, rubbing against your sensitive skin.
"You started it..." you began, but before you could finish, he scooped you up into his arms. Your vision spun; you let out a small gasp and held onto him tighter. He didn't turn on the main light, carrying you towards the bedroom in the sparse glow from the window. His steps were somewhat hurried, but he deliberately slowed at the bedroom threshold, carefully shielding your head as he laid you down into the soft bedding.
The hoodie of his that you were wearing became the first obstacle for him to 'dismantle.' He knelt by the bed, tugged the hem, and helped you pull it off. The fabric rubbed against your head, mussing your hair. You looked up at him, breathing slightly heavily, the night outlining the solid line of his shoulders. He leaned down, this time kissing you much more gently, as if to sootheâfrom your forehead, to the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.
His deft fingers began unbuttoning your pajama top, one button, two... The slightly cool air touched your skin, and you shivered lightly. His soft kisses followed, landing on your collarbone, then lower, his warm mouth enveloping one tender peak, his tongue laving and teasing. His other hand wasn't idle either, his thumb gently kneading the other side, alternating pressure.
His hand rested on you, and in that moment, he thought you felt like a soft cat, like a handgun, like a fire burning just for himâscorching, vivid.
"Leon..." you couldn't help but whisper his name, your voice carrying an unconscious, seductive lilt. It was as if hidden embers within you had been ignited, a hollow ache spreading from your lower abdomen.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice gravelly. He pushed himself up slightly, looking at you in the dim light. Your face was flushed, eyes dazed, lips wet and swollen from the kissing. His eyes darkened. He quickly pulled his own T-shirt over his head, his lean, muscular torso exposed to the air. The lines of his muscles were defined but not exaggerated, brimming with latent strength.
He covered you again, the feeling of skin against skin making you sigh. His body temperature was high, warming your skin. His hand trailed down your side, slipped past the waistband of your sleep pants, caressed the smooth skin of your inner thigh, then slowly moved inward.
"Relax," he murmured in your ear, his hot breath seeping into your ear canal. "Let me."
His fingertips touched your most sensitive core. Your whole body jolted, and you instinctively clenched your thighs together. But he was endlessly patient, stroking gently, in circles, feeling your wetness slowly seep forth like unfurling petals. His kiss found your lips again, swallowing your fragmented whimpers and gradually losing-control moans.
When you had completely melted into a puddle of spring water, actively parting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, he knew you were ready. The small convenience store packet was torn open, the faint sound unusually clear in the quiet bedroom. As he rolled on the protection, you glanced at him. Fine beads of sweat dotted his temples, his blue eyes churning with desire he was still fiercely restraining.
He lowered his hips, entering you slowly. The moment of fullness drew a simultaneous, satisfied sigh from both of you. He started slowly, giving you time to adjust, kissing you, calling your name over and over. Then, the rhythm gradually quickened, the thrusts growing deeper, more forceful.
The mattress emitted a regular, soft creaking. He swept you into the vortex of passion. Your nails unconsciously scraped down his back, leaving faint red trails. He grunted softly, not pulling away but instead thrusting more deeply, each stroke hitting that deepest point within you, bringing wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure.
"...S-slower..." you begged, unable to take it, your voice fragmented.
He just chuckled lowly, his movements unwavering. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your chest. "Weren't you... pretty bold... back at the store?" he teased, his breath unsteady, but the assault beneath intensified.
You could no longer form complete sentences, could only moan and ride his rhythm, your consciousness blurring. You could only hold him tighter, as if he were your only lifeline. In the moment you reached the peak together, you bit into his shoulder, burying your shattered cry into his skin. He let out a low, satisfied groan, locking you tightly in his arms as he released his hot seed deep within you.
In the aftermath of the climax, he still lay on top of you, his weight a comfort. You both breathed heavily, sweat mingling, heartbeats gradually synchronizing. He pressed a tender kiss to your damp forehead.
"The ice cream... must have... melted," you suddenly remembered, your voice hoarse but amused.
"We'll buy more tomorrow," he nuzzled your nose, his tone indulgent. "Right now, I just want to hold you."
He carefully withdrew from you, disposed of everything, then returned to gather you into his arms. You lay naked together, skin against skin with no barriers, legs intertwined. Drowsiness washed over you. You fell asleep nestled in his scent, even forgetting that your initial goal had just been a taste of chocolate ice cream.
And in the entryway, that box of ice cream had indeed melted, the sweet, sticky liquid quietly saturating the bottom of the plastic bag.
