Xavier lay on the gym floor of their home, sprawled out after his workout, his eyes closed, his breathing even. He looked peaceful, relaxed, almost asleep.
Nana, who'd been watching him from the doorway, grinned mischievously. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.
She tiptoed over and knelt beside him, studying his handsome face. Then—
*Poke.*
She pressed her finger to his cheek. No reaction.
*Poke poke.*
His nose this time. Still nothing, though she saw his lips twitch slightly.
Emboldened, she poked his chest. His abs. His arm. Each poke accompanied by a barely suppressed giggle.
Xavier just lay there, letting her have her fun, his expression carefully neutral even though she could tell he was awake.
"You know," she said conversationally, continuing her poking expedition, "you squish my cheeks every morning. Saying I look like a cute hamster. It's only fair I get to poke you back."
*Poke poke* to his other cheek.
"You're very poke-able, you know. All firm and muscular and just lying here like you don't notice."
*Poke* to his shoulder.
Her hand drifted lower, and she poked his stomach, right above the waistband of his workout pants. Then, feeling particularly bold, she poked lower still—right where she could see he was definitely not as relaxed as he was pretending to be.
*Poke.*
"Oh?" She grinned wider. "What's this? Someone's not as sleepy as they're pretending—"
*Poke poke.*
Xavier's eyes opened, looking directly at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. But she was already giggling, reaching up to squish his cheeks the way he always did to hers.
"You look so cute like this!" she declared, squishing his face gently. "See? You're adorable! My cute sleepy husband!"
His lips formed into an unintentional pout from her squishing, and she couldn't resist—she leaned down and kissed him, still giggling against his pouty lips.
Big mistake.
In one smooth motion, Xavier shifted their positions, rolling them so she was suddenly on her back on the gym mat, him looming over her, caging her in with his arms on either side of her head.
"Cute, am I?" His voice had dropped lower, rough with something that definitely wasn't sleepiness.
"Um." Her eyes went wide. "Yes? Very cute?"
"You've been poking me for five minutes." His eyes had gone dark, that intense blue that meant his usual gentle demeanor was giving way to something else. "Giggling. Playing with me. Wearing that cursed dress."
She looked down at herself. The short dress—her favorite for working out in, comfortable and easy to move in. Though admittedly, it was quite short.
"What's wrong with my dress?"
"Everything." His gaze tracked down her body, lingering on her legs. "It's too short. Shows too much. Makes me think things I shouldn't think while I'm supposed to be working out."
"What kind of things?" She was genuinely curious and slightly breathless.
Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed her—not the gentle peck she'd given him, but a deep, claiming French kiss that made her forget her question entirely. His tongue swept into her mouth with clear intent, and she melted under him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders.
When he pulled back, she was gasping for air, her face flushed.
"Those kinds of things," he said, his voice rough. "You woke up the beast, starlight. You poked and teased and giggled in that little dress, and now you're going to deal with the consequences."
She felt it then—something pressing against her stomach. His obvious arousal, hard and insistent through his workout pants.
"Oh," she breathed.
"Oh indeed." His smile was slightly wicked, so unlike his usual gentle expression. "You've been very naughty. Teasing your husband. Making him hard. Looking like a perfect little doll in that outfit."
"I wasn't trying to—"
"That's what makes it worse. You're not even trying and you drive me insane." He shifted, positioning himself between her legs. "Now, what should we do about this problem you've created?"
"What problem?"
"This." He pressed against her deliberately, letting her feel exactly how hard he was. "You got me into this state. You should help me fix it."
"How?" She knew the answer, but something about asking made it more exciting.
"Take me in your mouth." Direct. Commanding. So unlike his usual gentle suggestions. "I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me while I tell you exactly what you do to me."
Her face went bright red, but she nodded, and Xavier shifted, settling with his back against the gym wall, guiding her to kneel between his legs.
She helped him remove his workout pants, and when he was freed, she couldn't help but stare. No matter how many times they did this, she was always slightly awed by the size of him.
"Go ahead, starlight." His hand was gentle in her hair. "Take your time. I want to savor this."
She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth carefully, and his head fell back against the wall with a groan.
"Just like that. Fuck, your mouth feels incredible."
She worked him slowly, learning what made him make those desperate sounds, and he started talking—that stream of consciousness dirty talk that only came out when he was really worked up.
"You have no idea what you do to me. Looking like a doll. So perfect. So innocent. So fucking tempting."
She hummed around him, and his grip in her hair tightened.
"That dress. I've been trying to work out, and all I can think about is how short it is. How easy it would be to just push it up and—" He groaned as she took him deeper. "—claim you right here on the gym floor."
She pulled back slightly to catch her breath, and he guided her into his lap, positioning her so she was straddling him, his hand still in her hair.
"Keep going. Don't stop. I want to feel your mouth while I tell you something."
She obeyed, leaning down to take him again while in this new position, and his free hand stroked her back possessively.
"That baker. Charlie." Xavier's voice had taken on an edge. "The one at that shop you like."
She paused, confused, and he gently guided her back to task.
"Keep going. This is important."
She continued, and he continued talking.
"He gives you free bread. Every time. Smiles at you. Calls you 'sweetheart.' Do you think I don't notice?"
Oh. He was jealous. Of the baker. She would have laughed if her mouth wasn't currently occupied.
"I'm very aware of Charlie and his generous bread donations. Very aware of how he looks at you. How he always happens to have your favorite pastry ready when you walk in."
His voice was getting rougher now, a mix of pleasure and possessive frustration.
"And you just smile at him. Thank him so sweetly. Take his free bread and pastries like it's nothing."
She pulled back slightly, and he let her, though his eyes were dark and intense.
"Are you seriously jealous of a baker?" she asked, incredulous.
"I'm jealous of anyone who makes you smile like that. Who gives you things. Who gets your attention." His jaw was tight. "I know it's irrational. I know he's just being friendly. But every time you come home with free bread, I want to—"
"Want to what?" She was finding this possessiveness both ridiculous and incredibly attractive.
"Want to remind you who you belong to. Who you come home to. Who gets to have you like this." He pulled her up for a kiss, then guided her back down. "So here's the deal, starlight. You reject his free bread. No more bakery gifts from Charlie. And in return—"
"In return?" she prompted, pausing again.
"In return, I'll learn to bake. I'll make you any bread or pastry you want. Better than his. So you never need to accept gifts from other men."
"You're going to learn to bake? Because you're jealous of a baker?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "I'll learn to bake anything you want. Bread. Pastries. Cakes. Whatever. As long as you stop accepting gifts from Charlie."
She started laughing—she couldn't help it. The absurdity of her husband being jealous of a friendly baker, offering to learn an entirely new skill just to eliminate the competition—it was ridiculous and sweet and so Xavier.
"Okay," she agreed, still giggling. "No more free bread from Charlie. And you'll bake for me instead."
"Good." His possessive satisfaction was clear. "Now finish what you started. And remember—you're mine. Not Charlie's. Not anyone's. Mine."
She took him back into her mouth with renewed enthusiasm, and his dirty talk continued, mixing possessiveness with praise:
"That's my girl. Taking me so well. So perfect. Only mine."
"Charlie can keep his bread. I have something much better. You. All of you."
"Fuck, your mouth. The way you—yes, just like that—perfect."
"Mine. My wife. My starlight. No one else's."
When he finally came, his hand tightened in her hair, his other hand gripping her hip, and he groaned her name like a prayer.
After, he pulled her up into his lap properly, holding her close, his breathing gradually slowing.
"I really am going to learn to bake," he said seriously. "I'm not letting Charlie win."
"Win what? There's no competition!"
"There's always competition when it comes to you." He kissed her forehead. "But now you have to deal with the second consequence of your teasing."
"Second consequence?"
"You got me hard. We took care of that. But now you're in my lap, in that short dress, and I'm definitely not done with you." His hands slid under the dress, finding her already wet. "Someone enjoyed having me in her mouth."
"Xavier—we're in the gym—"
"Our home gym. No one else is here. And you started this with your poking and teasing." He lifted her slightly, positioning her over him. "Now you're going to finish it by riding me while I explain all the other things I'm jealous about."
"There are more things?!"
"So many things." He pulled her down onto him in one smooth motion, both of them groaning at the sensation. "That guy at the coffee shop who always gives you extra foam. The bookstore clerk who recommends books. The delivery driver who smiles too much—"
"You're insane," she gasped, already moving, finding her rhythm.
"I'm in love. There's a difference." His hands guided her hips, helping her angle perfectly. "And when you love someone as much as I love you, everyone else feels like a threat."
"They're just being nice!"
"They're being nice to MY wife. MY starlight. The woman who's MINE."
She would have argued more, but he thrust up particularly hard, hitting that perfect spot, and she forgot what they were even talking about.
"That's better. Stop thinking about other men and focus on me. On how I make you feel. On who you belong to."
"You—I belong to you—Xavier—"
"That's right. Mine. Say it again."
"Yours—only yours—"
He pulled her down for a kiss as they moved together, and the jealousy in his voice transformed into pure possession and love:
"Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to claim. Mine to love."
When they came together, tangled on the gym floor in a mess of sweat and satisfaction, she couldn't help but laugh weakly.
"You're really going to learn to bake?"
"Already ordered a cookbook. And a stand mixer. And everything else I'll need."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm possessive. There's a difference." He pulled her close, his usual gentle demeanor returning now that he'd thoroughly claimed her. "But you love it."
"I do," she admitted. "Though I'm still not sure why you're jealous of Charlie. He's sixty years old and married."
"Irrelevant. He gives you bread. Now I'll give you bread. Better bread. Possessive bread."
"Possessive bread?"
"Bread made with love and jealousy and the desperate need to eliminate all competition."
She laughed and kissed him. "I love you. My jealous, bread-baking, possessive husband."
"Love you too. My doll-like, teasing, poke-happy wife." He kissed her back. "Now let's shower. Then I'm going to research bread recipes. Then probably claim you again because you'll still be in that cursed dress."
"I could change—"
"Don't you dare. I'm learning to cope with my feelings through aggressive baking plans and regular claiming sessions."
"That's a terrible coping mechanism."
"It's working perfectly so far."
And it was.
⭐⭐⭐
Two weeks later, Xavier presented Nana with perfectly baked sourdough bread, homemade croissants, and artisan pastries.
"Better than Charlie's?" he asked, trying to sound casual but clearly anxious.
She took a bite of the croissant and moaned. "Oh my god. This is amazing. Way better than the bakery."
His smile was pure satisfaction. "Good. No more free bread from Charlie then."
"Agreed. Though he's going to be confused when I suddenly stop accepting his offers."
"Tell him your husband learned to bake. He'll understand."
"Will he understand that my husband learned to bake because he was jealous?"
"That part you can leave out."
"Xavier, you're adorable."
"I'm possessive."
"You're adorably possessive."
"I'll accept that."
And if Xavier continued to research new recipes every time Nana mentioned any shop or person who gave her free things, well—
Their pantry was very well stocked.
And Nana was very well claimed.
Win-win.
.
.
.
.
.
⭐⭐⭐