25. Twenty-Five
25
TWENTY-FIVE
ELIANA RICHARDS
CIA Headquarters, Christmas 2022
Almost five months together
P eter was still sleeping peacefully next to me, his bare chest rising and falling while one of his arms was stretched out towards me, his fingertips just slightly brushing towards my ribs. His love language was physical touch, so he made sure he knows where I am all the time. Which means he’d touch me with at least a finger or sometimes even his entire hand, even when he was sleeping as deeply as right now.
It took me a while to get used to holding hands whenever we could or his fingers on my body all the time, not only when we had sex.
As someone who had to endure physical abuse for a long time in my life, physical touch was normally accompanied with pain. My brain expected pain every time Peter’s hand neared my body.
But he’d been wonderful and more than patient while we worked together on rewiring my brain. And even though I still froze when his touch came unexpectedly, we did a good job together. Peter showed me that touch can mean love, as well, not only hatred.
I let my fingertips caress over his arm while I watched his peaceful features. He was the prettiest man I’ve ever shared a bed with, that was for sure. No idea why he’d chosen me to give his heart to, but I wouldn’t complain.
Today was Christmas, the holiday of love.
I was more than only grateful that I was able to celebrate it with all these amazing people around me. Oliver and Marta even invited Mihaela and helped her fight the bureaucracy.
For the first time, I was only surrounded by love and support on this holiday. It would be a very special one.
Did I tell you that Peter was one of the heaviest sleepers ever when he felt comfortable and safe?
I watched him like a creep with his lips slightly parted, and his features so soft and adorable, that I wanted to kiss every inch of his perfect skin. Instead, I decided to scoot closer and place my head on his chest. Peter stirred for a moment and I was scared I’d woken him, but he only wrapped his former outstretched arm around my upper body and rested it on my hip. His head moved slightly to the side and his breathing evened out again.
This was how it was supposed to be.
The steady beating of his heart was hypnotizing and it didn’t take long for me to fall back into some sort of slumber.
“Cinnamon.” His voice entered the dream I was constantly living as a background echo. I was confused for a moment, as it didn’t fit into the scenario at all. He needed to repeat himself a couple of times, his voice getting louder and the dream world weaker every time.
Finally, I opened my eyes, looked around to check my whereabouts, until I realized I woke up exactly where I’d fallen asleep: in Peter’s embrace, head on his chest.
I turned my head back a little and saw him already looking at me, a wide grin spread all over his face.
“Merry Christmas, Cinnamon,” he whispered before leaning his head down and placing a careful kiss on my forehead. I stretched my body like a cat, pampering his chest with kisses because I was too lazy to move high enough to reach his face.
I’ve never been a morning person, and it became worse the older I got, so don’t expect me to do a whole workout before I had my first coffee.
“Merry Christmas, Goldie,” I answered before placing my cheek on his chest again. Only a few more minutes of cuddling.
Thankfully, he silently agreed as I felt his arms wrap around my body and his fingers driving into my thick hair to massage my scalp.
When you think an orgasm is the best feeling in the world, then you haven’t gotten a proper scalp massage from the person you love yet. I needed to stifle my moan because I was on my period and not in the mood for sex right now. I just wanted to enjoy the cocoon of love that Peter and I had created over the past months.
“I’m excited and curious,” he suddenly said.
“Because it’s Christmas?”
“Yes and no. Of course I love Christmas, especially because I can spend it with you this year. But I’m mostly curious what sweater you’ll get.”
His words made me raise my head to look at him with furrowed brows.
“Sweater?” I asked.
“Your ugly Christmas sweater! Haven’t you heard of that tradition yet?”
I shook my head because I had literally not even a single clue what the hell he was talking about. These past months, I might have been more social than all the years before, but it still felt like I wasn’t part of the gang yet. Peter, Liam, and I had become a cool and fun trio, but I barely had any connections to Sheppard, the doctor, Oliver, or Marta. Maybe it was because the four of them were bonded together very deeply on so many levels that no one really had a chance to be a part of it, or because I hadn’t been the friendliest around them in the beginning. Some evenings when Peter, Liam, and I cooked together or watched hockey, different members of the Fantastic Four—as I call them—joined us, but it was mostly Peter who was carrying the conversations. It felt like they were talking in a different language, inside jokes and situations from a time before I’d joined. I was sure Liam didn’t get these things either, but he’d always been superior to me because Liam didn’t give a fuck about anything.
We should all be a bit more like Liam sometimes.
“Peter, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I finally answered and it made him laugh. I felt the vibration of it underneath me.
“So Oliver has this funny tradition that he’s gifting ugly Christmas sweaters to everyone on the team on their first holiday with us. I got mine two Christmas ago,” he explained.
“Oh wow. And are they random sweaters?”
“I don’t think so. At least he held a whole speech when he gave me mine.”
“Now I’m very curious about what it looks like.”
“Hold on,” he exclaimed, and I managed to prop myself up on my elbows while he was moving underneath me. In a swift movement, Peter had exited the bed and jogged towards his closet. Peter wouldn’t be Peter if he hadn’t prepared his outfit for today already, so it didn’t take him long to put the dark sweatshirt above his head. I couldn’t see much yet other than that it was black and had some green and white ornaments on it. Then he turned around and stepped closer so I could observe the imprint with all its details. The centerpiece was a green T-rex, wearing a Santa hat and with string lights wrapped around its body. Next to the dinosaur you could read Tree Rex in white letters. The rest of the sweater was filled with the ornaments I had already seen on the back.
“Tree Rex?” I asked, my eyebrow high while I stifled a laugh.
“Yeah well…the sweater is cool, but the meaning might be a bit embarrassing,” he started, scratching his neck with one of his hands while averting his gaze.
I was totally down for embarrassment.
“Tell me, Goldie.”
“Promise you won’t use this against me.” I thought it was a joke for a moment, but he was dead serious.
“That bad?” I asked, my chuckle trying to ease the insecurity radiating from him.
“Promise.”
“Of course I promise I won’t use this against you, Peter. Depending on the story, it will be damn hard for me, but I’ll never let you down. We’re way over that level of relationship.”
He nodded slightly before sighing exaggeratedly.
“When I started, I might not have been the good agent I am right now. Which is normal, I guess. They train us in so many things, but when you actually start the job you realize that 80% of what we learned at the farm was theoretical bullshit.”
He got a strong nod from me for that because I realized that the hard way at the FBI, as well.
“Before I was allowed to enter a single operation, Oliver forced me through tons and tons of simulations in the VR shooting range. And all of them had in common that I wasn’t stealthy enough. He had always called me dinosaur because I was stomping so loudly that there was no chance of surprise momentum. So yeah…that’s why I got the T-rex.”
The urge to crack a joke was strong, but I’d promised him to shut my mouth, so I couldn’t betray him now.
“I haven’t been on many ops with you so far, but if it helps, I haven’t noticed any heavy stomping. And you know I would definitely have mocked you about it, because mocking you was what kept me alive and sane.” I winked at him.
“I don’t know about the sanity though,” he countered.
I got up from bed and stepped in front of him, my arms sliding underneath the soft material of his Christmas sweater before I crossed my hands on his back. His skin was warm against my forearms and being so close to him always made me feel at peace.
It was like he was the noise canceling headphones for the demons in my mind.
“You’re my favorite dinosaur,” I mumbled into his chest and felt him pressing me further into him. As I said, physical touch was his love language.
“If you say things like this, I don’t envy the sweater that much anymore.”
“You really hated it?”
“It did embarrass me, but I can laugh about it nowadays. ”
“You should, because it’s a really cute sweatshirt. Although, I prefer you without any clothes,” I mumbled before placing a kiss on his chest.
“That can be arranged later today,” he answered, raised one of his arms to grip my chin, and tilt it upwards so he could look me in the eyes.
“I love you, Cinnamon,” he whispered with a smile.
“Love you, too, Mr. Stomping,” I responded. He stuck out his tongue to mock me before turning around and stepping away from me. In a quick movement I stretched my arm outwards, reached his sweater, and pulled him back into me. He hadn’t expected the sudden change of direction, so he stumbled a little, thankfully not losing his balance completely.
I didn’t need that much force to pull him right in front of me to give him a passionate kiss.
“We never leave each other without a kiss,” I said and he nodded, adding:
“Because you never know if you will return home that day.”
It was a reality I had experienced as a teenager with the sudden death of my mom, and it was something we were taught at the farm and the FBI academy for years. A job like ours contained the high risk of getting hurt or killed in action. We all knew it and we accepted it, because it was the risk that came when you want to make the world a better place.
After I got changed into normal clothes as well, Peter and I made our way into the communal kitchen that was already decorated beautifully. There was a large Christmas tree in the back of the room and it looked like someone had got every single candle out of the closets that they could find.
A large porcelain bowl on the dinner table was filled with different types of cookies, all of them baked by Oliver. He had literally harassed us these past days to bake cookies with us, but we had been too busy with working—or at least we pretended to. I know Sheppard hadn’t been that lucky as Oliver had made him help two days in a row. I still remember the annoyed mumble and grumble of him, complaining that it was the same struggle every year.
Other than a ton of decoration, the communal kitchen was empty, although I could smell freshly baked bread, meaning someone has been here before us.
Peter went right for the cookies as Oliver had baked Cinnamon roll style cookies. They were Peter’s favorite and he snacked on them whenever he could.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked, his mouth still half full of cookies.
“I would love some special Goldie French toast if you’re up for making them.”
“I’ll do whatever you ask me to, Cinnamon.”
“See, that’s why nobody liked you in high school. The teacher’s pet is strong in you.”
We both laughed before he passed me to reach the kitchen and prepare breakfast. The moment he was next to me, he pinched one of my butt cheeks as a reaction to my mocking comment. I squeaked louder than I should to let him enjoy this little victory.
A woman knows what a man needs.
Most of the time, it was small victories in absolutely useless competitions likes who’s been able to catch more thrown blueberries with their mouth. Not joking, this happened a couple of weeks ago and when Peter won—deserved, might I add—Liam accused me of cheating because quote, “I needed to push his ego for the sex to be good.”
Which—for the record—wasn’t true. The cheating part, I mean. Our sex was better when Peter was in a confident mood.
He was humming the melody of Mockingbird by Eminem while getting the French toast ready.
“Why that melody?” I asked.
“Not Christmas-y enough for you?”
“I’m just curious. It feels like a random pick.”
He halted his movements for a moment and I saw him looking to the side, thinking hard about something.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I hear Nate and Lynn hum that melody all the time and just adopted it.”
I made myself a mental note to ask the two where this was coming from. Peter was right, I’d been one of the best when it came to profiling and maybe that was because I was the most curious little asshole in the world. If I wanted an answer, I did everything—legally allowed—to get that answer.
“Interesting,” I mumbled.
Peter stopped again, his eyes fixed on me instead of the bowl in front of him.
“That’s your hyper obsession voice, Eli. What are you thinking?”
“You know me that well, huh?”
“Of course I do, Cinnamon. It’s part of the job description as your boyfriend. Know your enemy or something like that.”
“Keep talking like that and I let you masturbate for the next two weeks instead of fucking me.”
“Torture,” he whined, but kept his mouth shut to finish breakfast and easy my mood.
“Something smells good in here.” A voice sounded from behind us and I turned my head around to see Lynn Summers entering the room, closely followed by Sheppard who was holding her hand and had a sleepy grin on his face.
It was kinda disgusting seeing him so happy. He was my partner in crime when it came to the right level of annoyance needed to survive every day. But on the other hand, I’d become softer over the last months, too, so maybe he was allowed, as well.
“Morning, Dr. Summers,” I greeted and saw in my peripherals that Peter was waving the spatula at the two of them. Lynn was wearing her very own Christmas sweater reading, Mrs. Claus, but married to the Grinch on the front. Sheppard, on the other hand, wasn’t wearing his sweater, but I saw him carrying something black around.
“What are you making?” Sheppard asked.
“French Toast. You want some?” Peter answered.
“I’d love to!”
Lynn had walked next to me and I could see her rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. It still amazed me how openly the two were living their relationship, especially because I got a glimpse of the gossip while I was in med-bay after the accident. It was absolutely horrible, although the nurses tried to shut things down. That didn’t stop the other patients or visitors.
“I never let him make French toast for breakfast because it’s just useless calories, fat, and sugar,” Lynn whispered in my direction, eyeing Sheppard and the way Peter was loading food on the plate in his hand.
“But they’re delicious,” I responded. Not that I hadn’t thought about the nutritional disadvantages of Peter’s favorite food before, but we’re always joking that we live our lives after the motto memories over macros .
“Delicious and deadly,” Lynn said.
“Wow. Thanks for ruining my mood, Dr. Summers.” I laughed slightly, not sure if it was a joke from her side or not.
“Always at your service.” She sloppily saluted me, stepped towards Sheppard, and stole a French toast from his plate who whined a loud, “Heeeeeeey,” in defeat.
My eyes wandered from the mocking couple to Peter, and I watched him observe the happy couple with a smile.
Gosh, he was adorable when he smiled.
“How many do you want, Cinnamon?” he asked in my direction and I froze for a moment. Summers and Sheppard had walked off towards the couch area, but they were still within hearing range. I didn’t want to give away our relationship like this.
Especially because the fear of getting caught had brought another level of spice to our sex life.
Which was an excuse I made up in my head, because in reality, I was scared with whether our relationship would change if everyone would know.
Would Peter treat me differently?
Would he still do all the small little gestures like linking his pinky finger with me when we were walking the hallways or always brushing his shoulder against me when he was passing?
Well, I guess we would need to find out.
“I’ll take two. Thanks…Goldie.”
Did we just make our relationship public? Just like that?
I’d expected it to be a bit fancier, but it is what it is.
No muss, no fuss.
I guessed.
Summers and Sheppard were whispering something while cuddling on the sofas, but I couldn’t make out if it was because of our confessions or something else.
Peter brought a plate with French toast to the dinner table and I joined him, taking my place right next to him.
“I should have asked you first. I’m sorry. The nickname slipped off my tongue so easily and I didn’t even realize what that meant,” he said in a lower voice, his one hand landing on my thigh before he gave it a small squeeze.
“It’s okay. At least we don’t have to hide anymore now.”
Peter leaned in, his lips slightly brushing over my ear before he whispered with the sexy grumble in his voice:
“We can still have sex in a supply chamber or in our office, hoping that no one would catch us in the act.”
“I very much like that idea,” I whispered back before leaning my head to the side so that his lips landed on the side of my neck. They were soft on my warm skin and I loved the slight scratch from the sugar that was still on them after he had taken a bite of the French toast. One kiss softer than the one before until he reached my ear again, slightly sucking on my earlobe.
Stifling the moan that was coming up my throat was a big challenge. so I placed my hand above his on my thigh and gripped it tightly to release some tension. He let it wander higher and higher and the heat in my belly, that was a constant companion around Peter, made a reappearance.
Summers and Sheppard couldn’t possibly see what was going on from the angle they were sitting, which made Peter cockier than he usually was .
Well, who did I try to fool?
Peter was a cocky little shit.
And I loved it.
We were interrupted by loud Christmas music blaring from the hallway, followed by a male humming voice and footsteps. Peter retreated his hand and placed it on top of the table, continuing to eat as if nothing had happened at all.
We would end that little gamer later today, I was sure.