Sliding across the kitchen tiles in her fluffy socks (and narrowly avoiding injury), she wiped down the black countertop with a damp cloth leaving a fresh citrus scent in its wake. Humming along to whatever 80s track that was playing over the sound system in Shawn’s dining area, she cleared the remnants of the cooking equipment from their dinner. Although he had pretty much just moved in, she had already made herself at home and despite his protests she always insisted on cleaning up. Besides, she practically lived there anyway.
And she didn’t mind cleaning up. Being an only child, she had never lived with a teenage guy before and was initially worried that when she visited, the once pristine apartment would look like a bomb had hit it - only going on what she had heard about teenage boys and cleanliness, of course. But she had to admit she was pleasantly surprised at how tidy Shawn kept his place. She supposed it had more to do with pride in having his own place rather than the interest to clean but either way, the condo was kept immaculate. There was rarely a moment she arrived and he wasn’t sweeping the hardwood floors. Something about it getting dusty, he insisted, though she just laughed and told him to put the damn brush away.
The final pot clanged as she placed it back in its respective drawer and she switched the stereo off with a satisfied sigh. Spotless. She furrowed her brow at the sound of the pounding bass continuing down the hall. Shawn had told her he was going to blow off some steam or something along the lines of that. She thought she really ought to start listening to him more rather than ushering him out of the kitchen so she could shamelessly sing without the presence of an actual vocalist. Truth be told, she was as tone deaf as they came.
Padding silently down along the hall that she knew Shawn would probably be feverishly sweeping later, she made out the song to be a Drake track accompanied by the rhythmic sound of punches hitting leather. As she grew closer, the door to his makeshift studio room was slightly ajar and she held onto the doorframe for dear life. Standing there in all his shirtless glory, she silently thanked whatever god that he had his back to her. Stance fixed and posture poised, he threw punch after punch at bag whose chains shook with each hit. He was slick with sweat and all her attention was fixated on the way his back muscles flexed and contracted with each jab. A limp curl hung down on his forehead while the rest at the back of his head were plastered to his neck with perspiration. His grey sweatpants hung low on his waist and she found it hard to concentrate when he let out the occasional low grunt as he threw a punch.
She knew he had taken up boxing as a way to keep fit while he was on tour and couldn’t make it to the gym. The thought of that alone was enough to let her mind run rampant. But experiencing the sight in person? Well, that was a whole other level of explicit thoughts and right now, her mind needed a big ‘Parental Advisory: Explicit Content’ sticker stuck to it.
Biting her lip with too much vigour, she inwardly prayed that her knees wouldn’t give out. The sound of someone collapsing in the doorway was sure to put a pause to his boxing session and she’d be damned if she was the one to stop him. It almost felt wrong watching him. Although he is her boyfriend, she still felt like she was trespassing - watching something that she shouldn’t. Her phone suddenly felt very heavy in her back pocket as the urge to record the unlawful sight in front of her welled up inside her. She wanted to capture the moment, project it on cinema screens, tattoo it on her body. Woah girl, reel it in she thought to herself, chastising her imagination for taking the scenario and running away with it.
“I told you not to box without gloves, didn’t I?” she said as the song ended. Her voice was a surprise to her own ears - it sounded controlled and not at all flustered as she had expected.
Whatever ounce of rationality she had mustered up before was completely and utterly demolished when her Greek God of a boyfriend turned around to face her - all glistening abs and taut pectoral muscles. The way his lips parted slightly as he panted and the innocent look in his eyes was enough to make her crumble into a heap of ashes. The early signs of stubble were visible above his lip and on his chin and although she wasn’t usually a fan of facial hair, she stifled a groan in her throat. What the hell was this kid doing to her? A smug smile spread across his face as he moved across the room to turn off the speaker and she dared her legs to hold her weight as she walked - or rather wobbled - towards him.
“Guess I should’ve listened, huh?” he replied with a sheepish grin as he looked from his knuckles back up to her face. She noticed the cuts dotted along his knuckles and the purplish hue of the bruised already forming underneath. He could only chuckle as she sighed and quirked a brow at him, his own way of saying ‘I’m fine, really’.
“The blood trickling down your hand says otherwise” she countered, taking one of his large hands in her own. Brushing a finger across his lower knuckles that escaped relatively unscathed, she shot him another look. But it was hard to even pretend to be mad at him when he was gazing down at her, his warm brown eyes alight with mischief.
“Sorry, mom” he said apologetically with a boyish grin, earning himself a swat to the chest.
“C'mon, Rocky Balboa” she said sarcastically and took him by the hand carefully. Leading him to the en suite in the master bedroom, she bent down to reach the first aid kit she had taken the liberty of buying. Admittedly, she was hopelessly accident prone and Shawn was clumsy so it was considered an essential as far as she was concerned. One of them was bound to do something potentially self-destructive. Which was laughably ironic considering the fact that she was fit to combust any second.
“Honestly, I’m fine. It’s not that bad” Shawn argued examining his hands. Looking up from her position on the floor and ready to shoot another unamused look at him, he towered above her and she lost all ability to speak. His damp curls hung around his face as he looked down and her and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to where the defined V muscle at his waist disappeared beneath the waistline of his sweatpants. His cheeks were as hot and rosy as hers felt. Whatever smart-ass comment that was on the tip of her tongue died. Combustion in 3…2… Clearing her throat and standing up quickly, she placed the first aid kit on the counter before putting a hand on her hip.
“Just- shut up and let me be a good girlfriend, alright?” she said playfully. As she opened the kit, he held up his hands in surrender. Getting to work disinfecting the cuts on his hands, she tried desperately to ignore his proximity to her and the heat radiating off his body. Needless to say she failed miserably. After she had finished wrapping the bandages around his knuckles (like he should have done before he started boxing), he pressed a kiss against her hair and mumbled his thanks against her skin. The height difference meant she was staring at the hollow in his throat that was gleaming with sweat and she couldn’t hold herself back from planting a kiss there. A surprised low groan escaped him and as she wound her arms around his waist, she could feel him pull back slightly.
“I’m all gross and sweaty, baby girl” he said in a low voice, the tenor in it reverberating through her bones.
“Good, that’s the way I like you” she said with a smirk, gazing up at him through her lashes before placing another slow, languid kiss at the base of his neck. He gripped her hips as he sucked in a breath when her teeth grazed his skin.
“Well in that case…” he said and in one swift motion, he had her hoisted up onto the counter and stood between her legs, earning a surprised gasp from her lips. “You won’t mind getting a bit sweaty yourself.”
Her mind raced and she crashed her lips against his. God, he had been gone for so long. Far too long. She had forgotten how much she had missed this. Missed the way his tongue brushing hers caused that feeling to erupt in her stomach every single time. The way he pulled her towards him by her hips, getting her as close to him as humanely possible. The way he groaned against her lips when she wound a hand into his wild hair. Usually he was gentle, slow. Nothing about him was gentle in that moment letting her know that he had missed her just as much as she had missed him. Kissing her way along his jawline to his ear, she kissed his earlobe before speaking with a challenging tone to her voice
“Go on then, baby. Make me sweat.”