#re fluff

Leon adored you. He would do anything to see that pretty little smile of yours. You were the only one that could get that cold gov. agent to open up. Even if it took some time, you managed to do it. He would buy you the world if you asked. Constantly buying you flowers and plushies, pleased when he receives a million kisses in return.

You splay out against Leon’s chest, giggling after you just finished play fighting. You adjust yourself, thighs straddling his waist as you rest your hands on his chest, just admiring the man you love so much. He admires your smile, holding your waist as he presses up against you. He brings you down to plant a kiss to your lips, keeping you close to him. There was something about you that always drove him insane. So gorgeous.

Your voice interrupts his zoned out thoughts, “Your eyes r’ so pretty,” you say with a dumb grin, reaching out to rub your thumb against his cheek before planting a gentle kiss there. He chuckled softly, not giving a verbal response, but kissing your neck, sucking a little hickey into your skin, proud of his work as he pulled away. As he wanders further, you already know how the night will end..<3

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Luis sighs softly, leaning his head against his desk. He was tired, very, very tired.

Tired of the constant work, stacks of paperwork that didn't seem to end, the fact that his coworker three cubicles over talked so loud about last night's game that he couldn't concentrate on said paperwork.

The sound of keys jingling and familiar footsteps against the office floor makes him lift his head off the table slightly, he perks his head up to check if what he heard matched the image he thought of in his head.

You. You and your stupidly large amount of silly keychains from old kids show you and Luis used to watch. Only Luis could call it stupid. He knew you better than the rest of the people here at this godforsaken place. He could list all the characters hanging from your lanyard off the top of his head if you asked him to.

“Look who's back.” He comments, smiling as soon as you enter through his cubicle door. “Did you get bored or something back at yours? You keep coming back here, you know.” He says, as if he wasn't waiting for this exact moment. Luis always looked forward to seeing you. It made working at this place a lot less shitty.

You made him feel a lot of things, would he tell you that to your face? No. He'd rather die fighting the printer's ink cartridge protector than admit that he has a thing for you. More than a thing, maybe if you could read between the lines of his smile and eyes.

It was hard reading Luis's body language, his reputation around the office as a ‘ladies man’ and as the office flirt made it difficult to tell if he actually liked you or not. You hoped he did. You looked forward to these little meetups in his cubicle, too.

“Wow, you're mean,” you say, hand to your chest, pretending to be hurt by his comments. “So so mean to me, Luis. Words hurt, you know that? Can't I just drop by to say hi? Hello?” The more you talk, with that stupid dramatic tone, the more he smiles. He rolls his eyes playfully before glancing back at you again. “Why are you here, then?” He asks once you finish your little tangent about visiting him. He looks you up and down to find some sort of sign of why you were really here. Usually, you brought him a snack or some copy paper he forgot to pick up.

“To have fun,” you say back, the stupid smile on your face makes him think it's something no good. Well, in the eyes of your coworkers. Not Luis, in his eyes, you'd always be good. At least you were to him. The people here just don't have fun. All stuffy and stuck up in dress shirts and all that. “Fun?” He repeats, leaning himself up in his chair. He tilts his head slightly to the side as he looks at you. Just what were you up to? “Fun.” You repeat back, smiling still.

“What do you think? We can skip work for a couple of hours going out on a smoke break.” You suggest, though you didn't smoke. He did. Ever since he started hanging out with you, though, he's slowly realizing that he's smoking less and less.

Luis found it hard to read you as well. Always speaking, what was on your mind kept him on his toes.

He finds himself sitting next to you, like he always did on the concrete floor outside the office. He lazily holds his cigarette between his fingers, staring at you as you eat half of his lunch. He always let you have half of his lunch, saying he “packed too much” even though he damn well knew he packed enough for two people. Sharing is caring, right?

“You know, the more you spoil me like this, the more chances you are to be stuck with me.” You joke, wiping your face on a napkin. Luis chuckles softly. He couldn't tell if you knew you were flirting with him, even if he flirted back.

“Really?” He asks, tilting his head at you with a slight smirk on his face. “Then I'll do it more often. Hell, I'd even take you out to dinner if you wanted. Me and you against the man.” Luis doesn't even realize the words coming out of his mouth.

The fact that it came so naturally to him proved that he was deeply, stupidly, in love with you. He didn't even realize he was basically saying he'd take you out on a date. This was his way of confessing to you, offering to take you out to dinner.

Good food is the window to the soul, right? The way to a person's heart was through their stomach, his grandfather told him. From what he remembered, at least.

“...you'd take me out to dinner?” You say aloud, slowly processing his words. Luis's eyes widened, slightly realizing what he said. It took him a solid minute, too. He almost drops his cigarette on the floor.

Quickly, he composes himself again. Clearing his throat, he tries to play it off lightly, trying to live up to his reputation as the office flirt even though he was being genuine with you. “O-of course I would!” He says, putting his cigarette to his lips. He looks away from you, pretending to look over at the parking lot. “You're probably tired of eating Spanish omelets and tomato soup all week.” He comments, puffing cigarette smoke from his lips. “Why would I be tired of Spanish omelets and tomato soup if you made them?” You ask back softly.

“Aren't you tired of my cooking?” He asks, turning back to look at you. “No, why would I be tired of your cooking?” You reply back, leaning slightly closer to Luis. This moment makes him stare into your eyes longer than usual, now that he's this close to you he can finally read you. Your eyes, your face, everything stupid about you. He loved everything stupid about you, your obnoxious collection of keychains, the way you snorted when you laughed at his jokes, everything stupid.

♡ ⊹ ۫ ۪ ꒰͡₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ reblogs n' feedback r greatly appreciated !! support ur local fanfic writers !! ♡ ͡꒱

Text:

“Le, I’m home!” He doesn’t respond, but I can hear him, clattering around the kitchen, doing what I don’t know, cleaning maybe, though I did tell him to relax, this being his first day off in weeks, to my annoyance, not that he minds, acts like it’s no big deal, thought I was joking when I said I’d show up to the damn D.S.O. office and tell whatever bozos are running it to give the guy a break. I take my shoes off, tucking them beside his ugly ass sneakers before heading down the hall in search of my lovely husband, who is in fact in the kitchen, stood over a pot, just staring at it, one hand on the back of his hip, the other scratching at the side of his jaw, nervous. He doesn’t notice me come in, so I take my chance, sneaking toward him ready to lay a smack to his perfect ass, but I don’t get more than five feet before he speaks, not looking at me, just grumbling down into his pot. 

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart.” I frown, paused with my hand at the ready when he gives me a look over his shoulder, lips pursed and brows raised, my expression sheepish at having been caught, hands clasped behind my back as I wander toward him, curious what’s going on at the stove, considering I haven’t let him cook once in the time we’ve been together, the one time he did it was a complete disaster, who knew plastic shouldn’t go in the oven? 

“What’re you doing?” I lay my head on the side of his arm, getting my hands around his waist and peering into the pot, which is full of water, just water, the burner set to medium, he really is helpless. He gives me a look, head turned to look down at me, his expression meant to be flat, but showing a little stress, cute. 

“Cooking.” He shrugs, going back to staring at the pot, which is never going to boil, I wonder exactly how long he’s been waiting on it, probably too long. 

“You’re cooking?” He hums, frowning when I reach to crank the heat, batting my hands away to do it himself before nudging me back so he can turn around. 

“Yeah. Wanted to uh… S’posed to be a surprise… You’re home early.” He seems a little bashful, leaning down to press a quick, affectionate kiss to my forehead then smiling when I pucker up, his lips meeting mine before he takes an overly dramatic look over his shoulder to check on his water, his hands sliding down to my hips when he turns back. 

“I uh… Worked through lunch, wanted to come home to my pretty husband…” I give him a smile, and he huffs a laugh, my words earning me another quick kiss, pressed right to the tip of my nose. 

“Pretty? You’re the only pretty one here, sweetheart.” I shake my head, looking up at him and trapping him in my arms, feeling so fuzzy, glad to be able to spend some real time together, to be soft in a way neither of us often get. 

“You are pretty…” I lay my hands on the sides of his face, my front pressed to his, just looking up at him, admiring, and he really is pretty, his features softened out from how stoic he used to be, his scruff now a little grown out, his eyes just as beautiful as always, though the crows feet are starting to show, all his happiness right there in one spot. “And handsome… And hot, and cool and awesome and- All the other ones.” He smiles, turning his head to the side and bringing a hand up to hold onto the outside of one of mine, his lips pressed to my palm while he looks at me, warm and affectionate, less wound up than usual, relaxed, that is until hissing sounds behind him, the water boiled over from inattention, his casualness flipping into frantic action, his hands moving to slide the pot off the burner, an accusing look cast toward me over his shoulder as he flips the burner off. 

“This is your fault. You’re goddamn distracting, you know that?” He gets the other burner going, leaving the other to cool off as he reaches for the pasta, setting it beside the pot as he waits, watching it, apparently afraid it’ll surprise him again. 

“Okay, if I’m so distracting I guess I’ll just go-” “Don’t even. Come sit your pretty ass up on the counter and tell me about your day.” I come over, giving up the feigned attitude to come beside him, his hands coming to my hips to spin me around before he lifts me up and onto the counter, placing a sweet kiss to my lips and muttering a “Distract me all you want” before moving to stand back in front of his pot, now boiling, the pasta added only after he turns down the heat to keep from repeating his mishap. “Go on, quit starin’ at me like that and tell me about it, was that one woman acting up today?” I shake my head, smiling, his interest in the office drama unexpected, but entertaining, I suppose. 

“She uh… Didn’t come in today. She had a big meeting with the Zarovsky account and they would’ve gone ballistic if it was rescheduled, so I uh- I went in for her and sold the shit out of her pitch, a couple million dollar deal.” He’s smiling, eyes flitting from me to his pot, which he’s now stirring, nonstop, sure nothing sticks to the bottom. 

“That’s great, hun. Don’t let them skimp on commission this time, yeah? If they try just tell ‘em your husband’s-” “I am not threatening them, Le.” He frowns, focused on his cooking, not doing much looking at me, his attention shown through his hand on my knee closest to him, drawing soft designs into my skin. “What’re you making, anyways?” He smiles, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye, amused, his finger tracing letters into the skin of my thigh, the quiet action bringing a soft smile to my face, I being the first letter.

“Take a guess.” I scoff, one guess in mind, the correct one, by the way he’s acting, his finger tracing some more while he waits, L O V E traced lightly onto my thigh

“Parmesan?” He nods, seeming pleased with his surprise, my favorite, and his, only the way I make it, he says. He finishes his little message, spelling out Y O U before drawing a little heart, looking at me to see if I got it, seeming pleased when I return the sentiment. 

“Yeah. Surprise.” I lean back on my hands, watching him, admiring, loving how he looks in the orangey light coming through the window, the sunset well on its way, all of him so perfect, his black tee maybe a little too tight, but enjoyable for me, his muscles plain for my greedy eyes to see. “You trying to start somethin’ sweetheart?” He’s eyeing me, apparently having noticed my ogling, and is pleased by it, his little smirk in its place, his expression gone mischievous. 

“No? Just enjoying my surprise…” He hums, leaving the pasta to slot himself between my legs, hands running up to rest on my hips, his smirk still there, playful.

“Hm? Well how… The hell… Am I supposed to be getting anything done with you sittin’ so pretty?” I shrug, letting my arms rest up over his shoulders, fingers mussing the back of his hair.

“You’re the one who told me to-” “No no no no, I didn’t do anything like that… Goddamn you look good, lucky me, huh?” He kisses me, soft and sweet, humming against my lips, happy. “My pretty girl… You get that time off?” He’s kissing down, going from sweet to passionate, heated, hands gripped to my hips, slow kisses running over my jaw, down the side of my throat. 

“You really wanna go to Cancun?” I thought he was joking, he’s not much of a beach guy, or an outdoorsy one, spends too much of his time outside to really enjoy it anymore, prefers lounging, cuddled on the couch and watching some shitty movie. 

“Course. Told you I’d take you.” He did, after I showed him a picture I saw and made a joke about how we “Just had to go”, not that I thought he would, or really was all that keen on going. 

“Are you even gonna be able to get a week off, Mr. super special agent?” He hums, face tucked into the crook of my neck, just resting there, breathing me in, relishing the comfort, a domesticity he’s never had before this. 

“They know not to mess with my vacation.” I’m sure they do, he hasn’t shut up about his last vacation being ruined since it was, though I guess it is fair, considering how rarely he’s given one. “Hey, shit, gotta check it.” He squirms his way out of my hold, taking a step to the side to stir the pasta, taking a scoop and plucking a steaming noodle straight off it and popping it into his mouth, wincing a little as he chews, offering me a tight smile that looks a little more akin to a grimace. 

“Done?” He gives me a thumbs-up, looking uncomfortable, probably scalded the shit out of his mouth, but he doesn’t really freak much about pain, guess it’s not a big deal to him, with how often he ends up busted up. He turns off the burner, pushing the pot back instead of straining it, moving to dig around for a pan, letting out a soft groan on his way back up, hand rubbing at the back of his hip as he sets it up, sliding all his items a little closer, his recipe set precariously on the back of the stove. 

“So… We should uh… our anniversary’s comin’ up…” I give him a look, not exactly sure what he’s getting at, his expression a little curious, that and something I’m not really sure how to name. “Was thinkin’ we could do a little trip, a weekend kinda thing… You said you were wantin’ to go back to-” “Do you want to? We can stay home, Le, I don’t mind. You’ve been nonstop lately, give yourself a break.” He looks at me, so affectionate I could puke, my care something that used to seriously freak him out, become his favorite thing, my awareness of his needs always somehow shocking to him, even after years. 

“It’s our anniversary, sweetheart-” “Yeah, ours. Let’s stay in, spend two days on the couch watching shitty romcoms and getting drunk off our asses.” He smiles, seeming wistful, pleased at the idea of his favorite thing, his measuring pausing for him to come to me, hands on the sides of my face, his look unsure, eyes searching, trying to find out if my offer is something I’d enjoy. 

“Are you sure? I’m really fine, sweetheart, no need to worry.” I drag him in by the front of his shirt, pressing a lingering, affectionate kiss to his lips, his forehead pressed to mine when I pull back, soft smiles on both our faces. 

“Yes I’m sure, now back to work, I’m starving.” I wave him off, and he scoffs, muttering a small “Evil woman” on his way back over, my displeased look earning me a meant to be innocent smile, pretending he wasn’t just speaking ill words about me. “An evil woman would make you sleep on the couch… No action.” He sighs, coming back before he even gets the chance to start again, apparently feeling a little dramatic, holding pleading hands up between us, putting on quite the act.

“Please! Please don’t make me sleep on the couch… Without any action.” I hum, pretending to decide, drawing it out a little too long, his hands running down the outsides of my arms, one of my hands lifted to his lips. “You know I don’t mean it… I like you evil… God you’re so pretty… So damn perfect baby…” He seems to have completely forgotten about his pleading, trailed off into whatever comes to mind, staring up at me and kissing at the inside of my wrist, my free hand carded through his hair. 

“Don’t you think you’re trying a little too hard?” He smiles, laying his cheek on the inside of my hand, not seeming at all bothered to leave his cooking, just staring down at me, tracing little designs into my thigh with his pointer finger. 

“ ‘m not trying… Enjoying myself, actually… Love you so damn much, sweetheart.” I drag him in, though he seems reluctant to come, pulls on me instead, slips me off the counter and spins us around, kissing all over, leaving warm all over my face, holding me to him with hands on my ass.

“Le- Le that tickles-” “Love you… Love you… Fuck, need to finish cooking… Distracting me again…” “You’re making me a distraction.” 

Text:

“I don’t know what the hell happened! I left it for five goddamn seconds and- this!” I can’t help but laugh, he really is hopeless in the kitchen, that’s why I was so surprised when he told me about his plans to make hot chocolate for the both of us tonight, to celebrate our first Christmas in our new home. He’s so cute, giving me the most evil glare he can manage while he reaches to turn off the burner, embarrassed to have messed up so royally.

“It’s alright. Let me do it, yeah?” He shakes his head, bringing his pan over to the sink to run cool water over it, heaving an annoyed sigh as he scrubs the burnt milk away. I sneak up behind him, arms circling his waist, my cheek pressed to his back. “Don’t be so upset, didn’t I warn you to keep an eye on it?” I did, a few times, because I knew this was gonna happen, he’d take his eyes off it for one reason or another and end up sulking.

“I was, I heard you come in, wanted to say hi.” Course he did, anytime I arrive home he’s at the door as soon as I step inside, ready for a kiss and a “How was it?”. I didn’t expect anything less, and a little wasted milk isn’t a big deal, only to him. “Course I screwed it up. Damnit… I swear, any time I try and be romantic-”

“You are romantic. Let’s make it together, yeah?” He’s finished washing, and I release him to pass him a dish towel to dry his hands, his “thank you” quiet, his smile barely there, but still pleasing to me, my mission to bring him out of his upset mood accomplished. He brings the pan back over, placing it on the non-charred burner, and I follow him, running my hand up his back and into his hair, loving the look he gives me, trying to be stern, but really it’s just affectionate.

“I wanna do it. Sit your pretty ass up here and watch, okay?” He pats the counter, and I relent, moving to hoist myself up, beaten to it by my concerningly strong partner, who grips my hips and sits me nice and gentle on the counter beside the stove, my puckered lips earning me a quick kiss before he gets to work, moving to my other side to measure out the ingredients that need replacing, his eyes flitting back and forth between me and what he’s doing. “You are goddamn distracting. Quit staring at me like that, princess. Don’t wanna fuck up again.” He moves back to the stove, not giving me the contact I want, making an arc around me to avoid my reaching hands. I frown at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles softly and presses his lips to my forehead before getting back to work.

“Why am I sitting here if you want me to ignore you?” I lean over, shooed away when he reaches to turn on the heat, milk and cacao and sugar all poured in and stirred by his clumsy hands, sloshing and nearly making another mess before he calms down his whisking, giving me a look once he’s done focusing.

“I don’t know… Make sure I don’t ruin it, I guess.” He lets me bring him in, his hands running up my thighs to rest on my hips, his body between my legs. “I swear, if that goes crazy again because you’re distracting me-”

“It’s not even hot yet. Relax, you’re doing fine.” That does it, he relaxes against me, giving a sweet kiss in reply to my encouragement, pulling back to rest his forehead against mine, just looking at me. He’s been more soft recently, sweeter, always is around the holidays, happy to have someone to spend it with, to give and receive, relishes enjoying something he didn’t get much growing up.

“Y’know, this is probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had. You’re so goddamn perfect, sorry sweetheart, but no gift you buy can be as good as this.” His thumbs fan up under my shirt, cold, rough skin against my stomach making me shiver, his low laugh breathed against my lips.

“I don’t know… I think I got something pretty incredible this year…” A motorcycle, an insane Christmas gift, but I know he plans to go all out, he does every year, and I’m tired of him outshining me in the gift department. He hasn’t bought one, only because it’s not practical, a waste of money, in his eyes, a leftover mindset from when he didn’t have the extra income to own anything other than what was necessary.

“I’m sure it’s great, but you’re better, always.” He presses his lips to mine briefly, pulling back to take a look at the cocoa, which is just starting to bubble. “Fuck, gotta be careful.” He leaves his place in front of me, stepping in front of the stove and stirring diligently, brows creased, worried about another bubbly mess sneaking up on him. “Your gifts are pretty damn good, I think. I still got some more I need to get, haven’t had the chance…” He’s been busy, as soon as he gets back home he’s been getting sent back out, tonight being one of the few nights he’s been left without any crisis’ to deal with, which is why he suggested decorating our new Christmas tree, and making hot cocoa as a treat.

“Really? Jesus, I told you to tone it down this year…” I did, after last year, when the entire underside of my tree along with a nearby closet was covered in things he picked up over the month, which was of course flattering but also insane.

“I am, I can’t help it, everything reminds me of you, princess.” God he’s sweet, giving me his handsome smile before going back to watching the cocoa, reaching his free hand down to pet the dog when he emerges from down the hall, ready for some attention. “Hey bud. Have a good nap?” He’s a mutt, size of a German shepherd, a mangy thing, but Leon loves him, and so do I. “You better’ve, sleeping in my damn bed, sneaky little shit…” He lets him get away with everything, can’t be mad at him for chewing slippers or carrying off whatever he can find sitting on tables, but I can’t either, he’s too sweet, only fond of Leon and I, a rescue, found on one of Leon’s missions and brought home with him once he was checked out for any signs of Bio-anything.

“You bad boy, taking advantage of your dear old dad.” He’s after me now, laying his head on my thigh, staring at me until I pet him, scratching at the base of his ears, his favorite thing. “You really are spoiled, huh? Sweet dog.” Once he’s done greeting the both of us he leaves, settling himself down in his usual spot in front of the couch, ignoring his expensive ass dog bed in the corner to lay on the hardwood.

“ ‘s your fault he’s like that, you treat him like a baby.” He’s teasing, aware that isn’t the full truth, even if I do give him special treatment, Leon’s worse, giving him more treats than meals, spending majority of the time I’m not home letting him do things he’s not supposed to be getting away with.

“He was spoiled before I ever met him, don’t pin it on me.” I give him a glare and a stern finger, but he isn’t bothered to take me serious, just gives me a look and a little amused smile, continuing with the cocoa, adding vanilla and chocolate chips, taking the recipe he has pulled up on his phone very serious.

“Maybe, that was a long time ago…” It really was, time has been flying recently, both our jobs keeping us busy, us keeping each other busy when they don’t. “Think it’s done…” He looks to me for approval, and I take a look, nothing out of the ordinary, or burnt up all over the stove.

“Looks good. See, I’m not distracting.” He turns off the burner, reaching over and around me to grab a couple Christmas mugs he has hung above the sink. He pauses before he leaves his spot between my legs, giving me a look that I think is supposed to be disbelief, but it’s really just pouty.

“I’m just good at keeping from getting distracted.” I hum, raising my eyebrows, and he kisses me, setting the cups at my side to lay hid hand on my cheek, planting gentle kisses against my lips, letting out a pleased sigh when I slide my hands up the back of his shirt.

“What’s going on right now, then?” He pulls back, shocked, huffing and prying himself away from me, ignoring my protests as he moves to pour our treat into matching mugs, one red, one green.

“Maybe you won’t be getting gifts this year… You’re bad, might have to tell Santa to put you on the naughty list.” He gives me a look, and I laugh, hopping down off the counter to wrap my arms around his waist, speaking sweetly into his back.

“C’mon, don’t do that… I’m sure there’s…” I trail my hand down the front of his shirt, further, fingers sliding over the front of his pants. “Some way I could make it up to-”

“God, sweetheart, quit it! You’re gonna make me spill this!” I relent, pleased with the light desperation in his voice, and not wanting to ruin the wholesome feel of tonight just yet. “Fuck, you are distracting, can’t even do something nice without… Being seduced…” I laugh, pressing my face into his back, loving the feel of warm muscle on my cool skin.

“Yeah, well I can’t even watch you do something nice without wanting to seduce you.” That gets a laugh out of him, rumbled against me, a pleased feeling settling over me when he spins in my arms, looking down at me with a light smile of his own.

“Well keep it in your damn pants, we’ve got a tree to take care of before I can worry about taking care of you.” He shoos me off toward the living room, and I follow his quiet command, only after pressing up on tip toes to press my lips to his, earning myself a handsome smile.

“Okay… We’ve got a lot here… Think both our stuff is a little overboard, huh?” He follows along behind me, both of us looking at our bare tree, his arms coming around my waist, his chin tucked to rest on my shoulder.

“ ‘s not ours without both of our stuff… Maybe not all of it.” He sways us gently, humming quietly to himself, just happy to be in my presence, even if we are wasting time standing around. “We need some music.” He leaves, only after laying a quick kiss where his chin was resting, and I watch him walk over to the coffee table, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, scrolling until he finds what he’s looking for.

“If you play that rock remix shit I’m gonna kill you.” He gives me a bashful look when I peer at him over my shoulder, pausing my search through my box to give him a stern look. His plan is foiled, and he picks some generic Christmas playlist, leaving the remote to pick up our mugs, carrying them over to where I’m bent over.

“Try it.” I take the glass, sipping it, exaggerating my pleased noise at the taste. I take another drink, smooth and chocolatey.

“It’s so good, chef Leon.” I give him a quick kiss, and he looks pleased when I pull away, taking his own sip before gasping and prying my cup from my hands, taking off toward the kitchen without a word. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious…” I let him wander off on his own, opting to continue pulling out and unwrapping ornaments, looking up only when he comes back, whipped cream filling the empty space that was on top of our glasses, an empty cup hanging from his pinky, the whipped cream can tucked between his elbow and side. “You’re feeding the dog whipped cream?” He looks at me like I just asked the dumbest question ever, nodding slowly and handing over my mug before making his way to the dog, laid on the floor, watching the whole thing, waiting patiently for the treat he knows is coming.

“Course I am. It’s his favorite. Right bud? You want some?” He does, his tail beating against the couch the second he lays eyes on the bottle. “Okay, paw.” He offers his hand, which Buddy slams his paw into, not even giving Leon the chance to ask for the other before he gives it. It’s awfully cute, Leon on one knee on the floor, Buddy whining at him as he waits for the treat, which he gets pretty easily, Leon never has been one to enforce patience with him, not that I can blame him when the damn dog is so cute.

“Jesus, you’re gonna give him a stomach ache, you really think he needs that much?” He filled the whole glass, and then some, setting it down right in front of him instead of making him go to the kitchen.

“Course he does. He’s a big guy, right buddy?” He pets the top of his head, talking to him like he’s his son, which he may as well be, the way Leon dotes on him.

“Right, now get your ass over here and help.” His “Yes ma’am!” Is immediate, drawing a light laugh out of me as he comes to my side, digging through his own box, a lot less well kept, pulling unwrapped items out of piles of paper, one of which he holds up for me to see, a little sugar cookie of my initial, something he bought our first Christmas together, something he always puts at the very top, in lieu of a topper, which looks pretty silly, but the sentiment is nice. “That thing is not going up top, the angel has to.” He frowns, moving to hang it up against my wishes, coming to me once he’s done, getting in my space, his hand on my waist, his lips close to my ear.

“You are my angel, sweetheart.” I can’t argue with that, just give him a playful shove away and get back to it, both of us working to fill the tree with both his and my items, which look silly paired together, but that doesn’t matter, because it’s ours. We finish around half an hour later, and I somehow got roped into sitting with him and finishing our cocoa on the tree skirt, which, to my annoyance, he keeps calling “The tree rug”.

“You’re all glittery, princess.” He’s smiling, wiping some of the supposed glitter off my face, grin blowing wider when I groan. “Don’t worry, still pretty as ever.” He’s cute, so sweet he could rot the teeth out of you, absolutely perfect.

“Leon?” He hums, eyes meeting mine, his thumb giving up on getting rid of the glitter. “Is that… Mistletoe?" It is, a little fake plant hung a few inches above our heads, something a friend got for me years ago and hung above my entryway to try and get me to make a move on Leon, which didn't work, we didn't get together until the following spring.

“Sure is… Well, can’t break tradition, right?” He doesn’t give me the chance to answer, leaning forward to press the sweetest, gentlest kiss to my lips, his hand cupped softly over my jaw. I pull him back in when he moves to back away, keeping our lips locked as I make my way forward, rested over his lap by the time I give both of us a moment to breath. He looks excited, happy, affectionate, all that, staring up at me with his arms around my waist.

“You wanna do it on the tree rug?” I laugh, caught extremely off guard, but not at all bothered by the request, excited, if anything, a great end to a lovely night.

“Only if you stop fucking calling it that.”

“Deal.” We both lean back in, kisses more desperate, quick, his hands gliding up my back, mine on the side of his neck and carded through his hair. “God… ‘s been too damn long-” He groans against my lips when I grind into him, the sound heavenly, prompting me to do it again, his hips meeting mine, a hand coming down to guide my hips, helping me work into him as he works his lips down my neck. “Can’t get… Enough of you… ‘s never… any less perfect…” I yank on his hair when he sucks a mark at the base of my throat, drawing a low groan out of him, his hips pressing up a little harder, his fingers tight on my skin.

“Leon, you can’t-

“Sorry- Fuck, sorry baby. No more.” He relents, though I can’t even be mad at him for a hickey, even if it is kind of trashy, I know how pleased it makes him, in his quiet, possessive way. “You just drive me so fucking crazy. Here- Let me take this off.” He pulls my shirt up over my head, groaning and mouthing at the exposed skin above the cup of my bra, his hands squeezing and pressing into my ass, his hips moving purposefully, dragging the head of his dick over my clit through our clothes, the rough friction drawing a surprised moan out of me. “That’s it, princess, let that pretty voice out, yeah?” He watches me, drinking in my expression as he moves against me, one hand sneaking up my back to undo my bra, giving a pleased smirk when he pops the clasp first try.

“Take this off.” I tug at his shirt, and he laughs, using the hand that isn’t guiding my hips into his to help me get it off.

“Bossy, huh?” He’s back to kissing, making his way quickly from my jaw back down to my breast, moaning and sucking gently on my nipple, letting his teeth graze over my flesh before trailing his lips to the side, sucking a dark hickey into the spot to the inside of the nipple he just covered in spit. “I don’t mind… talk to me, sweetheart, tell me you want this.” I moan, bringing his lips back up to mine with a hold on his hair, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his lips, loving the happy sigh he breaths against me when we part.

“Of course I want you. You were the one who said tree first.” I shrug, and he smiles, looking too damn good with his hair all messy, his lips shining with both our spit.

“Right. Well… Now it’s time for me to receive my favorite gift.” He pushes me back, laid out under the tree below him, watching him watch me, whatever I had to say about that comment dying on my lips when I see the look he’s giving me, all love, so affectionate, happier than ever. “I love you so damn much.” He’s kissing his way up, over the length of my pants, up my stomach and between my breasts, pausing to press his lips to the mark he lift, then trailing up my neck, hovering over me once he’s done. “You look so damn pretty… Laid out for me… Shit, you’re making it real hard to take my time.” He kisses me, slow, loving, one of his hands to the side of my neck, the other slowly drawing my leg up to hook over his hip. “I hate being away from you, sweetheart… Wish I could be here all the time… Wake you up with a shitty breakfast that took three tries…” I smile against his lips, and he sighs, big and relaxed, meeting my lips and kissing me until I’m mush, both of us soft and happy.

“Leon, don’t you think you should… Unwrap your gift.” He chuckles, nodding, giving me a dazzling, affectionate smile before he sits himself up, grabbing onto the sides of my pants.

“Sorry princess, keeping you waiting too long?” He watches my pants pull down my legs, his eyes low and happy, his gaze fixing back onto my face for a moment before he comes back up, placing another quick kiss to my lips before settling himself between my legs, broad shoulders shimmying between my thighs, holding them apart as he takes a look at my underwear, definitely soaked after making out and grinding for way too long. “God, I must have, you’re soaked through.” He groans, leaning in to kiss at the wetness, his lips slick when he pulls back, a dazed look on his face. “Should’ve had you as my treat instead of the cocoa, you’re so goddamn sweet I’m gonna end up with a cavity.” He thinks he’s funny, chuckling at his words before leaning back in, eyes peering up at me as he trails kisses up the front of my underwear, pausing to suck lightly on my clit, smiling against me when I squirm.

“Can you not-” He knows, he’s torturing me on purpose, not that I don’t enjoy it, but I’d much rather get what I want without having to ask.

“Let me enjoy my gift, yeah? I know you like it, just relax.” I do like it, even if it is making me clench every muscle in my body, his pleased expression making me shaky. “That’s it… Just lay back and watch, hm? I’ll treat you real nice…” He spends some more time sucking on my clit, moaning into me when I card a hand through his hair, his fingers tightening against my hips. He’s too composed, too smooth when he’s not worked up enough, and he knows it, he’s driving me crazy on purpose, talking and touching all with a lightness that is both lovely and killing me.

“Should probably take these off so I can do it right, huh?” I moan in agreement, and he gives in, backing up to draw my panties down my legs, taking a longing look at the, honestly embarrassing, amount of slick covering the crotch before tossing them to the side. “Jesus, baby, gonna make a mess all over the rug…” He settles back down, just looking at me, making no move to fulfill his promise.

“Skirt-” I cut myself off, gasping at the feel of cold air blown on my clit, his low laugh rumbling through him before he closes his lips around it, switching between sucking and licking, moaning loud and excited against me, his hands squeezing as he does.

“Enjoying yourself, Leon?” He groans, the vibration against me making me let out my own pleasured noise, his voice low when he speaks, not bothering to separate his lips from my skin.

“God yes, always…” He draws a hand around, pressing a finger inside, sure to curl it up a little too gently on the way out, still teasing even when his mouth is working me up. “You act like you haven’t soaked your panties sucking my dick, sweetheart.” I ignore that, busy staring up at the tree above my head, our ornaments all mixed up, his sucking and licking turning into quick motions of his tongue, another finger pressing inside before he presses up fully. I start to shake from the harsh stimulation, letting out moans, and so does he, pulling his mouth back to look at me, thumb of his working hand taking over to rub quick circles into my clit, pausing after a few seconds to collect some slick before trailing back up.

“You look so damn good, shaking and moaning for me. You’re fucking perfect.” He mouths at my thigh, watching my face, smiling against me when I start to shake again. “Gonna cum, sweetheart? I bet, you’re squeezing me.” He keeps going, not making any move to speed up, just slowly working me up. “You’re almost there, c’mon. Cum on my fingers, soak this rug…”

“It’s a-”

“Skirt. I know, now give it to me, cum all over me, please baby-” He cuts himself off, his mouth busy licking at my release, his thumb working me through it, his free hand holding me down as I squirm against him, his moans and thumb on my clit drawing it out a few extra seconds.

“Okay, fuck- Stop, stop! Fucking-” He doesn’t, lips latched onto my clit making my legs tremble over his shoulders, which earns me a strangled moan straight into my overstimulated nerves. “Leon, please, stop, fucking hurts.” He lets his thumb take over, smiling at me while I whine and writhe, not seeming at all put off by the painful pleasure he’s putting me through.

“Just one more, okay? You can do it, it’s only one more.” I groan, pressing my head back into the floor and screwing my eyes shut, his mouth going back to work, a choked sound coming out of me when I feel another orgasm coming. “See? You can handle it. Feels good, huh? Didn’t soak me good enough the first time. Relax, princess, quit fighting it and just feel good…” I try, but it’s too much, my whole body tight with what’s coming, his thumb moving too quick and too harsh for me to get a second of calm between the whining and moaning and writhing. “There you go, just go ahead and cum for me, let me have it, you’re holding my fingers inside, can barely fuck you properly with how fuckin’ tight you are.” I’m cumming, the pleasure dull, just a constant state of tense, unyielding, torturous good, and he’s loving it, whining and kissing and licking all over while letting his fingers work me back down. “There you go, that’s so good baby, you’re so good, so pretty cumming for me, letting me give you your gift, yeah?” He laughs, and I grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of me before he gets the idea to keep going.

“Leon…” I’m breathless, don’t even have it in me to look at him, opting to just stare up at the tree while I calm back down, cold hands ghosting my sides making me shiver.

“Yes, pretty girl?” He comes into view, hovering above me, smiling, way too pleased with himself. “Damn, I really did you in, huh? Wanna go take a shower?” I frown, pulling him down by his neck into a slow kiss, pressing my sweaty forehead against his to speak.

“We’re not done.” He smiles, letting out a surprised scoff, one of his hands running up my side to play with my nipple.

“Yeah? You want another?” I shake my head, dramatic, scared he’ll kiss his way back down and hold me still while he forces another orgasm out of me.

“No, do me.” He laughs, sitting himself up to unbutton his pants, watching me as he pushes them along with his underwear down, leaning back over me on hands and knees to kick them off.

“You are feeling bossy today, huh? Lucky me, I guess.” He kisses me, soft and slow, romantic, offset by the feel of him tapping his dick on my pubic bone. “You know this means you’re cumming again, yeah?” I give him a look, but he ignores that, focusing down at what he’s doing, rubbing the head of his dick up and down, trailing slick, making me flinch every time it slides over my clit. “I’m not cumming unless you’re milking me, sweetheart. You still want it?” We both his when he presses the head to my hole, just barely stretching me.

“Yes, Leon, just-” He pushes in unbearably slow, watching my face, groaning at the feeling of me around him. I’m sure he’s aching, he’s been hard for a solid half hour without much relief.

“Fuck, you’re so- Ah-! Tight…” He sits still, and I give him a look, his expression going sheepish. “Gimme a second, sweetheart, don’t wanna… Cut this short…” He groans quietly, leaning in to press messy, sweet kisses to my lips while he calms himself down, the feel of him resting inside me, stretching me out, making me clench around him. “Stop that- Fucking ngh! Please, just be patient, please…” I am, trying to keep myself under control for the next few seconds, the feel and sound of him pulling out shocking me, his hips angled up before he moves, dragging along the skin of my insides how he knows I like.

“Leon- can you-”

“Yeah, fuck, I’ll speed it up, you’re just so damn tight, gotta make you finish first baby.” He presses his thumb back to my clit, and I groan, trying and failing to push his hand away. “I warned you, sweetheart, you wanted it, so take it.” He’s barely holding himself together, thrusting slow and deep, grinding into me once he’s seated inside.

“Shit, no more… Please, stop…” I can’t even tell if he hears me, until he pulls his thumb away, one last, rough slide against my tender clit before he brings it to his lips, his hips continuing their work as he sucks my mess off his finger, his low eyes watching my face.

“Fine, pretty girl, I’ll get you off like this, then.” He lets himself down onto his elbows, shuffling forward a little so my hips are propped up on his knees, giving him a better angle, his face tucked to my throat when he speeds up, moaning loud into my neck, whining out whatever comes to mind when he feels me shake, all too aware his voice gets me off. “Shit, so pretty, so fucking hot. I’m so glad we met, you’re so damn perfect. I love you- god- fucking love you baby.” I’m clawing into his back, but he doesn’t mind, likes it, whining and moaning into my skin as he thrusts a little harder, the sound of skin slapping obscenely erotic over the Christmas music playing. “You’re shaking, c’mon, just one more, need you to- Ah- milk my dick… Yes, god, sweetheart, you feel so good, do you feel good? C’mon, talk to me princess, you’re not- Ngh- Shit, you’re not that fucked out.” I am, nothing coherent coming to mind, the only things I can do are look up at the tree and let him fuck into me over and over.

“Nnh-Good, ‘s-Hah- good, Gonna cum. Gonna-mm-” I give up on talking, and that seems to be enough for him, a whiny moan hummed against me before he starts kissing and sucking wherever his lips can reach, his hips speeding up a little more when he can feel me tightening over him.

“Yeah? Oh shit, you are. Squeezing the life-Ah- outta me. Just a little more, you can take it. You’re doing so good, all you have to do is cum one more time. Just cum all over my dick, suck me dry, baby. I need it, need to feel you, give it to me, you’re right there just fucking-” He closes his teeth over my neck, whining as I squeeze him, my orgasm just a hazy pleasure, my brain mushy as I work my hips to meet his, letting my eyes close to listen to his desperate string of whines before he cums. “Fuck, that’s it, squeeze my-Ah- dick. Gonna cum, you want it? Fuck, feels so fucking good, I love you, I love you-” He pauses, hips grinding as deep as he can get them, the heat of his cum seeping into me making me moan, his own low groan choked and needy. “Yes, kiss me, kiss me-” He moans against my lips, fucking his cum into me, both of us groaning at the overstimulation. We stay like that for a moment, until he’s soft. He slips out, leaning back and away to get a good look at the mess he made.

“White christmas, huh?” He laughs, coming back for another kiss before pulling me up along with him, seating me gently in his lap, careful not to touch my aching sex, his arms circling around to hold me to him, his cheek against my chest as he gazes up at me, warm and affectionate, post orgasm glow doing him exceptionally well.

“We made a mess…” I give a look to the slick and cum soaked spot, unsure if it’s even cleanable, not looking forward to finding out. He’s smiling when I look back at him, basking in the closeness, happy to have someone, be something to someone.

“It’s fine. As long as it’s our mess.”