Work Text:
The apartment smelled like pine and cinnamon and the faint ozone tang that always clung to Xavier after a mission. The Christmas tree lights were the only illumination, casting slow, colored shadows over your skin as you knelt in the center of the rug.
The dress you’d chosen was soft red velvet, thin straps, hem barely brushing mid-thigh. A wide satin ribbon—emerald green, because you knew it was his favorite color on you—had been wound around your torso in neat loops, the bow tied just beneath your breasts, big enough that the ends trailed down your lap like gift wrap waiting to be torn.
You’d practiced the pose in the mirror a dozen times: knees apart, palms on your thighs, chin lifted, lips parted. Every time the clock ticked another minute closer to his return, heat pooled low in your belly. The waiting itself had become foreplay.
The lock clicked.
Xavier stepped inside, snow melting in his pale hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. His eyes—sleepy, winter-sky blue—found you instantly. For a heartbeat he just stared, shoulders still dusted white, sword case dangling forgotten from one hand.
“…You’re going to kill me one day,” he said, voice rough, already dropping the case with a dull thud. “And I’m going to thank you for it.”
He shut the door without looking, flicked the deadbolt, and crossed the room in three strides. Kneeled in front of you like you were something sacred and obscene all at once. His gloves were still on—black leather, snow-damp—and when he cupped your cheek the chill made you shiver straight through the velvet.
“Mission successful?” you asked, trying to sound teasing, but it came out breathless.
“Mhm. Barely matters now.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, smearing the gloss you’d put on for him. “Look at you. My perfect little present.”
He leaned in, lips barely grazing yours. “Been thinking about coming home to this the whole week. Every wanderer I cut down, I pictured your face like this--waiting, flushed, all tied up for me.”
His gloved hand slid down your throat, over the ribbon, until he hooked a finger under the bow and tugged—not hard, just enough to make the satin pull against your skin. You gasped; the sound made his pupils blow wide.
“Color sweetheart?” he murmured against your mouth.
“Green,” you whispered. “So green it hurts–please Xavi! ”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. He kissed you then—slow, filthy, tongue licking into your mouth like he’d been starving for the taste of you. The bow loosened under his clever fingers; the ribbon slithered free loop by loop until it pooled on the rug and the dress gaped open in front.
Cold air hit your bare breasts. Your nipples were already tight, aching. Xavier didn’t rush. He sat back on his heels, eyes drinking you in, leather-clad hands sliding up your thighs and pushing the velvet higher.
“No panties,” he said, almost reverent, with a faint chuckle. “You really did wrap yourself up perfectly.”
His thumb traced the slick seam of you, gathering wetness, circling your clit once, twice, maddeningly light. You tried to rock into him; he pinned your hips with one hand and kept teasing until you were trembling.
“mnn. Xavier, please—”
“Please what, sweetheart? ” He leaned forward, breath hot against your ear. “Please unwrap you? Please ruin you under the Christmas lights?”
“Both,” you managed.
He laughed, “Good girl, ” the silver blonde whispered soft and dark, and finally peeled off his gloves with his teeth. The moment his bare fingers slid inside you—two at once, curling—you cried out, head falling back. He fucked you slow and steady, thumb relentless on your clit, watching every expression like he was memorizing it.
“mm. So wet for me,” he whispered. “I've been thinking about this pretty pussy the whole mission. Almost turned the car around twice.”
Your hands found his hair, tugging and whimpering. He let you pull him down until his mouth closed over one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you clench around his fingers.
When he added a third and crooked them against that spot that turned your spine liquid, you came with a broken moan, thighs shaking, his name a prayer on your lips.
He didn’t give you time to breathe. In one motion he lifted you, turned, and laid you on the thick rug beneath the glowing tree. The velvet dress was bunched at your waist now, useless. He knelt between your legs, unzipped with one hand, and pulled himself free—thick, flushed, already leaking.
“Look at me. ” he ordered softly.
You did. You watched him with hooded eyes fist himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours, then line up and push in with one long, slow thrust that stretched you open and stole the air from your lungs.
The tree lights painted colors over his skin—red, gold, green—as he started to move. Deep, deliberate strokes at first, savoring, letting you feel every inch. His hands slid under your thighs, spreading you wider, hooking your knees over his shoulders so he could go deeper.
“ Huff...Touch yourself,” he rasped. “i want to see you fall apart on my cock again.”
You obeyed, fingers slipping between you to circle your swollen clit. The second orgasm built fast, hotter, tighter. Xavier’s rhythm stuttered when you clenched around him, a low curse he sometimes let slip when he was close.
“Please...Please come inside me–” you whispered. “Mark your present.”
That did it. He slammed home once, twice, and groaned your name against your neck as he spilled deep, pulse after pulse, hips jerking. The feeling pushed you over; you came again, milking him, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks through his shirt.
After, he didn’t pull out. Just gathered you close, still buried inside, and rolled so you were on top of him, his coat half under you like a blanket. The tree lights blinked lazily above you both. Snow tapped the window.
“This is the best Christmas ever,” he murmured into your hair, fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare back.
You smiled against his throat, tasting salt and snow and him. “Mhm, wait till you see what I got you for New Year’s my love.”
He laughed, soft, sleepy, already half-hard again inside you.
“Merry Christmas, Xavier.”
“Merry Christmas, my Starlight.”