#beefrobeefcal

A simple but festive wreath decorated the outside of the front door. It had not been there when he left in the morning. Neither had the red and green elves that were sitting on top of the coatrack, ridiculously long legs drooping over the shelf.

Frankie scoffed, tossing the keys into the bowl that had been filled with chocolates in colorful wrapping. He popped one into his mouth and turned down the hall, and sweet christ--you had decked the halls with thous of holly.

"Tis the fuckin' season, huh?" Frankie murmured.

"Baby!" you squealed cheerfully when you noticed him. "I didn't hear you come home."

You dusted your hands off on the green apron, flour handprints now adorning the textile, and went around the island to greet him with a kiss. You tasted of cardamomme.

"Yeah, wasn't sure I had the right house," he chuckled, snaking his arms around your waist to keep you close to him a tad longer. "You been busy."

You grinned. "Just a bit. I made chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, sugar, almond, cranberry and white chocolate, gingerbread and lime, and the cardamomme bombs."

Frankie huffed dramatically, putting on a disappointed grimace and tsked: "What, 'n no fruitcake?"

You snorted and shoved playfully at his chest, but he only pulled you closer. "No 'cause I dont hate myself. Also, I appreciate my husband with his teeth."

He could not help the boyish smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, looking down dreamily at your lips. You lazed your fingers behind his neck, thumb and index tracing the rock on the golden band on your left hand. You could not help the butterflies tickling your insides nor the heat rising to your cheeks: the ring had only been there for a few months, the promise of an eternity. "That so? Well, I'd say you're in luck 'cause yours still got some."

"Oh, I'm quite lucky, I'm aware," you chuckled and pressed your lips to his. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful. Though all the deskwork might be bringing me some carpal tunnel syndrome this christmas."

"Mmm--sexy. I'll take care of you tonight then," you smirked, sneaking your hands down his back pockets, cupping his ass and he laughed. God, you loved being the reason for that sound.

Frankie pulled you back to him, hungrily tasting tasting the cardamomme on your tongue, moaning in relief as he felt the weight of the day lift off of his shoulders.

Just as the moment gained heat, the gingerbread had had enough, and the alarm on your phone went off. Frankie groaned, already feeling the stiffness rub against his pants.

"Get that for me? You're just in time to help me build the house."

"The house?" Frankie scoffed, walking to the oven while you cleared up space on the kitchen island. Frankie chuckled in understanding when he saw the perfectly cut frame to a gingerbread house through the oven door. Grabbing the ovenmits, he pulled it open and got out the tray, placing it where you had made space.

Regarding your work, the perfect edges and mouth-watering smell, you smiled in triumph. Frankie admired you rather than the confectionary and was quick to press his hard cock against your ass, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

You could not help but chuckle at his persistency, quietly reveling in his seemingly never-ending lust for you. You sighed heavily, relishing the moment, and turned back to face him. His eyes found yours, warm and inviting, and his hands squeezed your hips as a playful smirk smeared across his lips.

"You're not trying to seduce me, are you?" you quizzed teasingly, perching your eyebrow.

"What? They need to cool down, don't they?" Frankie defended with an incredulous expression, pulling his shoudlers as if saying 'what do I know' while pressing his hardness into you.

"So do you, hotstuff," you laughed but tucked your arms around his shoulders nonetheless, pushing your lips against his and ground forward. He moaned into your mouth, and you swallowed it down, licking into his in return.

Frankie quickly lost himself in you, the events of the day melting into the background as he fell into the wamrth you so generously offered. One hand held you by the back of your neck, keeping you close as if afraid you might slip from his grasp while the other went to the island--where he had just placed the hot tray with the gingerbread house.

In a matter of seconds, Frankie bit your lip, hard, his eyes squeezed painfully shut and gasping, then hissing, then yelling "fuck" while clutching his hand.

"Frankie! What--" you stuttered, puzzled in a panic, lurching forward to comfort him. You quickly put the pieces together and grabbed hold of his hand, assessing the damage. You cursed under your breath. "C'mere."

You hurried him to the sink, forced his hand under the tap, and switched it on. He hissed as the cold water poured onto the red mark, instinctively trying to pull it back, but you did not release your grip on his wrist. You breathed out and focused your eyes on him, feeling the tension in his arm seize after a while. "Fucking hell, Frankie."

Locking eyes, his tongue darted across his lips before chuckling at his lack of finesse, his cock still weeping in his pants despite the mark that formed in his palm. "Kissin' you always got me acting dumb," he purred, shuffling closer to you once again.

You could not help the grin escaping your lips, shaking your head while assessing his injury. "This is gonna leave a scar, baby," you deduced, sorry eyes admiring his pouting lips.