Freckles - Alexia Putellas

alexia had seasonal depression.

no, it wasn't because she missed the warmth of the sun touching her skin. no, it wasn't because she couldn't go to the beach and enjoy a full day of tanning and swimming.

it also wasn't because she didn't like the cold breeze in the morning, or how some fog would slip through her mouth whenever she was having a conversation outside.

no.

it was much more serious than that. so serious that she started praying every night before bed for more global warming - not enough to kill any species, of course, but just enough to make the sun shine a little brighter in her corner of the world.

bright enough to bring your freckles back.

she was lying on top of you, holding herself up on one elbow (yes, that took a lot of strength), while her other hand brushed carefully along your cheek.

you watched her eyes, but the crease between her eyebrows and the tightness of her lips stole any romance the moment might have had.

you were sure you had seen this scene before, maybe at the louvre, in one of those 1800 paintings about a grieving loved one mourning the death of some pale, thin, malnourished victorian child who had succumbed to cholera or tuberculosis.

you smacked her hand away. she glared at you, bottom lip out, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"alexia," you said in a warning tone, turning your head so it was almost buried in the pillow, trying to escape her wandering fingertips and the way they seemed to have found a permanent home on the apples of your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. "stop it."

"no," she mumbled, still pouting. "los estimo demasiado." her finger traced over your bare skin, which now seemed to be the bane of her existence. [i love them too much]

"my freckles are going to come bakc," you said flatly, rolling your eyes. she didn't like that, but instead of scolding you, she just collapsed against your chest.

okay, maybe she was really sad. maybe you had underestimated just how much your freckles meant to her.

"amor," you said, softer this time, your hand running through her hair, feeling strands of brown and blonde slipping through your fingers. "you can't be sad every time my freckles disappear."

"i can," she muttered against your chest, lips brushing your clavicle as if to prove her point. "i love them. they make me feel warm inside."

"we have this conversation every year," you sighed. "it's normal. if there's no sun, i don't have freckles, and we're in winter now."

"but i like to track them," she said, no, she whined. "i like to wake up and count them and see if any new ones appeared during the night. and now i can't do that."

you opened your mouth, ready to lecture her about enjoying each season of life and making the most of it, but alexia was quicker.

she propped herself up on her elbows once again, and, somehow, she had that dangerous, mischievous expression on her face that you have learn to read through the years.

she leaned down, letting her gentle lips press to your right cheek, then your left.

"bonita," she murmured, her warm breath brushing your skin. "maybe your freckles will come back if i stand close enough to you."

you chuckled, parting your thighs slightly so she could lie more comfortably on top of you, her hip pressing against yours, creating a beautiful pressure on your lower body.

"and why would that happen?" you asked, half-teasing, half intrigued, shivering when her hand slid to your waist.

"maybe they'll feel how warm i am and think summer has come back around," she explained matter-of-factly, as if it made perfect sense.

"that won't work," you argued, but let your eyes close as soon as her lips travelled from your face to your neck, biting it softly between her teeth until your skin turned pink.

"you don't know that," she murmured, her other hand cupping your cheek, tilting your head to the side to give her better access.

"i know a lot."

in one swift motion, alexia tugged at your pyjama pants, pulling them down to your mid-thighs. the room was cold, but the heat of her body pressed against yours made you forget about the fabric that was once covering your skin.

"i think you just want to have sex with me," you whispered, as her fingers slid lower, rubbing your clit through your underwear. "and you're using my poor - barely-there - freckles as an excuse."

"don't need any excuse to touch you, bebé," she said, kissing the spot below your ear. "you always give yourself so willingly to me."

..

A/n: hope u guys liked this one! I wrote it in the shower, probably shouldn't.