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‘So, I bought this Santa costume…’ Clarke says as she walks through the door.
Lexa is sitting at the kitchen table, wrapping up last minute presents for Gus, Indra and Anya. Her tongue pokes out from between her lips in deep concentration. Gift-wrapping has never been her thing, Clarke was always so much better at it but Lexa insisted on doing it herself.
‘What for?’ She asks, not looking up from her precarious handiwork.
‘Well, it’s going to be Logan’s first Christmas, and Octavia and Lincoln asked if anyone would volunteer to dress up as Santa this year. I thought you could do it?’
‘What? Why me? Lexa protests, dark eyebrows arched up. ‘Lincoln could do it. It would be much more believable!’
‘Oh come on. You think the kid wouldn’t recognize his own dad’s voice and face behind the beard? Please, Lex. Next year, it will be our turn. We can ask someone else to dress up as Santa for our little bean.’
Clarke smiles as her hand automatically goes to her four-month baby bump. She would soon have to start wearing maternity clothes. Her regular, looser jeans still fit, but barely. Lexa’s gaze follows her hand down and softens when it lands on her stomach.
‘Okay.’ She nods.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I’ll do it.’ Lexa shrugs.
The hint of a smile is playing at the corner of the brunette’s lips, and Clarke knows the battle is won. Lexa is way too much of a softie to refuse Clarke anything, even more so when the holiday spirit is at stake.
‘Great! Then you have to try it on, see if it fits!’
Clarke reaches inside the shopping bag and pulls out an oversized red and white coat with a matching pair of pants, throwing them in Lexa’s direction.
‘That’s a men’s costume so it might be too big, but we can stuff it with fabric to make it look like a Santa belly.’
Lexa puts the costume on over her clothes, as well as the black gumboots Clarke bought with it.
‘And now, the center piece…’ Clarke says mischievously as she approaches the brunette.
She places the Santa hat on Lexa’s head, tugging on it until it covers her ears, and brings their lips together for a kiss. The brunette wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, tongue poking out to lick at Clarke’s lower lip.
‘How do I look?’ She asks sheepishly when the blonde pulls away.
The coat is large and hanging loosely from her shoulders, and if it weren’t for the elastic waistband, the pants would have been pooling at her feet right now. To top it all off, the hat falls in front of her eyes. With the beard on, most of Lexa’s face would be covered.
‘Cute.’ Clarke grins. ‘But I think you should try it without your clothes underneath.’
‘You mean just the costume?’
‘I mean the costume… and nothing else.’
‘But- I’ll be cold…’ Lexa says, puzzled.
‘I wasn’t planning on letting you out of the apartment. This part is just for me to enjoy.’ Clarke winks.
Lexa’s eyebrows shoot up as the kinky request finally dawns on her. Green eyes darken just the slightest bit at the blonde’s suggestive tone.
‘Oh. Okay, then. I’ll just, uh, be right back.’
She hurries towards their bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Clarke can already feel heat pooling in her stomach just from anticipating her return. These days, her pregnancy hormones were making her horny in the blink of an eye – be it the slightest ripple of Lexa’s abs whenever she would roll out of bed in the morning, or how her wife’s long, toned legs would sometimes brush against hers in her sleep. Clarke found herself aroused more often than not.
When Lexa walks back into the living room, Clarke’s stare is drawn to golden planes of exposed skin. The large red coat has been left open to reveal the brunette’s slim but toned frame, and as instructed, Lexa has foregone wearing any underwear – small but perky breasts bounce with every step she takes in Clarke’s direction. The pants are riding low, exposing the v-line of her hips which disappears under the waistband. When Clarke’s gaze travels down to the soft bulge underneath, she feels wetness start pooling between her thighs.
Lexa clears her throat, drawing the blonde’s attention back to her face.
‘Ho, ho, ho?’ She says playfully, dropping her voice lower than usual.
‘C’mere you sexy dork.’
Clarke pulls Lexa towards her by the waistband of her pants and crashes their lips together in a hungry kiss. A low groan rumbles up the brunette’s throat as she backs Clarke up against the wall, threading nimble fingers into blonde locks. When Clarke’s teeth latch on Lexa’s lower lip, the brunette lets out a surprised whine.
Two hands fall on Clarke’s jean-clad ass, kneading at her butt cheeks, causing more dampness in Clarke’s underwear. Lexa pulls back to look at her, lips swollen, Santa hat askew, and her green eyes now a dark forest. A smirk plays at the corner of her lips before she leans forward again, this time to kiss her way down Clarke’s neck.
One of her hands sneaks between their bodies to unbutton Clarke’s jeans before slipping inside and cupping her through her underwear.
‘Fuck, Clarke you’re soaked.’ Lexa breathes against her collarbone, finger dragging against the damp spot on her panties.
‘Well, what did you expect?’
Lexa mouths at Clarke’s throat, nibbling on a patch of skin at the corner of her jaw as her hand pushes her underwear aside. Long fingers begin to swirl through her wetness and Clarke whimpers at the sudden contact. She lets out a frustrated whine when Lexa pushes inside her just barely before retreating. The way the brunette bites her lip and looks into her eyes as she teases her adds fuel to Clarke’s internal fire.
‘Lexa, please-‘
Lexa doesn’t need to be told twice; she pulls her hand out of Clarke’s pants and the blonde’s groan of complaint dies on her lips when Lexa kneels in front of her. She tugs Clarke’s jeans down her legs along with her ruined panties, and some of Clarke’s slick already paints the inside of her thighs.
Lexa leans forward, rucking up the bottom oh Clarke’s shirt so she can drag her lips against the swell of her belly. Clarke relaxes into her touch, leans back against the wall and buries her fingers in brown curls.
She shivers from head to toe when Lexa finally reaches the apex of her thighs. The brunette licks through her, long and broad all the way up to the hood of her swollen clit, and Clarke’s hips buck into her face. The noises that escape her lips are almost as sinful as the ones Lexa makes as she eats her out. Plump lips wrap around the sensitive bud, sucking softly while lapping at it, at Clarke’s eyes roll back into her head.
Her hands scramble for purchase, tugging helplessly at the white pompom of the Santa hat while pushing Lexa’s face closer to her center. It doesn’t take long for her orgasm to build up with the brunette’s insistent assault on her clit.
‘Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come-‘
‘Already?’
The playful tease comes out muffled against her sex. Clarke groans, rolling her hips against Lexa’s face until her body seizes, overcome by pleasure. She cries out Lexa’s name, long and drawn out because, fuck it, it’s Christmas Eve and the neighbors will understand.
The brunette eases up, cleaning her up with kitten licks and avoiding her oversensitive spots. Clarke’s legs are still wobbling when she pulls away. With a mischievous smile, Lexa stands back up, a glistening smear of Clarke’s release all over her mouth and chin.
‘Fuck.’ Clarke exhales, almost collapsing into the brunette’s arms.
Lexa kisses her, slow and dirty so Clarke can taste herself on her tongue. The blonde lets out a satisfied hum.
‘Couch.’ She commands when her legs finally stop shaking.
With a smug grin, Lexa picks her up, letting Clarke wrap her legs around her waist before crossing the living room. She sits her down on the plush couch and the blonde immediately hooks her fingers inside the waistband of her oversized pants, reeling her in.
‘That was really nice, Santa, but I believe it is now my turn to unwrap my gift.’ She croons, smiling deviously as her index finger traces a straight line down Lexa’s abdomen.
Lexa stands in front of her, waiting, and Clarke can feel her wife’s darkened gaze almost burning a hole through her skull. She kisses across the brunette’s hipbones, dragging her teeth from one side to the other and enjoying the tightness of her muscles under soft tan skin.
Clarke lowers the waistband of Lexa’s pants, exposing her. The brunette hisses through her teeth when Clarke blows cool air on her semi-hard length, making her twitch. She wraps her hand around her, stroking slowly from base to tip, her eyes trained on Lexa’s relaxed face. She quickly swells under Clarke’s attention. Soon, the blonde leans in to kiss her way along the underside of her shaft, tongue darting out to lick at the engorged head before wrapping her lips around it.
Clarke sucks on the tip at first, knowing full well that this is where Lexa can feel her the most, and the brunette hums with each pass of Clarke’s tongue over the small divot. The blonde’s hands are everywhere her lips cannot reach, massaging Lexa’s backside, raking her nails up and down her stomach. Nimble fingers tangle in golden hair, tugging gently in a silent request, and Clarke works more of her into her mouth.
Being intersex, Lexa hasn’t been gifted with the length and thickness most guys lie about on dating apps. She is on the smaller side of average, and Clarke likes it that way. She begins a slow rhythm, hollowing her cheeks and taking more and more of her until she bottoms out, nose pressing against her wife’s abdomen.
She swallows and above her, Lexa exhales a shaky breath. The fingers in Clarke’s hair tighten. Slowly, Lexa starts to jog her hips forward, driving herself in and out of the blonde’s mouth, and fuck, this is Clarke’s favorite thing – the way Lexa’s clouded gaze remains fixed on her, enjoying the view but also careful not to make her gag. Every once in a while, Clarke pulls away to suck in a gulp of air before going back to pleasuring her wife.
Lexa’s moans rise in pitch with every passing minute and her stomach clenches, revealing the sculpted furrows of her obliques. The pompom of the Santa hat –it looks ridiculously out of place now- bounces comically in front of her eyes.
‘Shit, Clarke-‘ She groans, letting go of the blonde’s hair. ‘Stop.’
Clarke reluctantly draws back, not before stealing a taste of the clear liquid beading at the tip. Lexa’s cock is fully hard and glistening with the blonde’s saliva.
‘I want to come inside you.’ Lexa says, pulling the red pants down her legs the rest of the way.
‘Mmh, I’m waiting.’ Clarke licks her lips, laying back.
She pulls off her own shirt and bra, leaving her naked on the couch.
‘No, keep that on. It’s hot.’ She quickly says before Lexa can remove the large red and white coat.
Lexa settles on top of her, ducking her head to catch the blonde’s lips with her own. Clarke can feel the heat emanating from her wife’s cheeks A rosy glow highlights the constellation of freckles across the bridge of Lexa’s nose, and a soft smile plays on her lips.
‘That was amazing by the way, just… woah.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Clarke quirks a playful eyebrow and the brunette huffs out a laugh.
She slots herself between Clarke’s legs, rolling her hips slowly so her shaft rubs against Clarke’s clit several times. The blonde shudders and wraps her legs around Lexa’s waist, digging her heels into the small of her back to draw her in.
The brunette’s breath is warm against Clarke’s neck as she slides in easily. Clarke cants her hips to meet her halfway, impatient to feel all of Lexa.
‘You’re so hard… fuck.’ She whispers between short kisses to Lexa’s plump lips.
Lexa begins to thrust inside her, both hands bracketed on either side of Clarke’s head, careful not to crush her stomach. Clarke’s hands fly to the brunette’s breasts to pinch brown pebbled nipples and Lexa’s rhythm falters.
‘Yes, baby-‘ Clarke eggs her on, loving the sounds their bodies make when they collide. ‘Just like that.’
She draws Lexa closer for a kiss, tongues tangling and teeth clashing messily. The fake fur lapels of the Santa coat brush against Clarke’s chest with each roll of Lexa’s hips.
‘What the hell?!’
Lexa freezes mid-thrust, still half-sheathed inside of Clarke. The blonde meets her green, mortified gaze and dares to turn her head in direction of the voice. There stands Anya in front of the doorway, holding a large bag of groceries. Lexa drapes herself over Clarke’s body in an attempt to protect her wife’s modesty as much as possible.
‘Anya! What are you doing here?!’ The brunette croaks, high-pitched and embarrassed.
Her cheeks are now a deep crimson and the color matches her hat perfectly. She doesn’t make any move to pull out, not wanting to reveal any more of hers or Clarke’s anatomy. Instead, she buries her face into the blonde’s neck, burning in shame.
‘I was supposed to come in at 7 to help you with dessert for tomorrow… it’s 7:15 and my little sister’s naked butt in a Santa outfit was definitely not something I was expecting to see tonight. A Santa outfit, really?’
‘Fuck… I forgot.’ Lexa groans, muffled against Clarke’s flushed skin.
‘Yeah I can see that.’ Anya deadpans. ‘So I can either, uh, step out and let you two finish – or pretend I didn’t see anything and we can get to work now.’
‘Nope. It’s fine. Little Lexa has left the chat anyways, if you know what I mean. Just- go and put these in the kitchen so we can get dressed.’
‘Sure. And air out the room while you’re at it. Smells like a mating ceremony in here.’ Anya shakes her head as she exits the room. ‘Fucking Merry Christmas.’