Light reflected off the trophies atop Shawn's childhood dresser as sun rays spilled in through the window, pulling you from your deep sleep. The sheets were soft beneath your chilled skin as you twisted in the arms of the man you loved, your breath faltering as you were met with his puffy, open eyes staring back at you.

"Mornin'," he spoke with a drowsy rasp. You reached out from under the duvet to push his floppy curls off of his forehead.

"Morning," you muttered, blushing from your cheeks to your toes as he pulled your tired body against him, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Mm," he hummed through a tight-lipped grin as he shifted on top of you, planting rapid pecks across the expanse of your face. You giggled, running your nails up his bare back and flattening your palms against his shoulder blades to pull his body closer.

"M'gonna crush you," he mumbled into your neck as you forced his body to collapse on yours. Just the weight of him made you giddy—knowing he was there and tangible and finally, finally yours.

"Would love you to," you grinned, raking your nails through his soft curls and appreciating his naked skin up against yours.

"Baby," Shawn breathed, tilting his head up to place a soft kiss on your jaw.

"Hm?" you responded with a giggle, giddy from the nickname. He said it like he meant it.

"As much as I would absolutely love," he paused, nipping at your collarbone, "to lay here," again, kissing up the column of your throat, "and love on you all morning," your stomach twirled at his words as his lips ghosted over your jaw, "we've gotta go downstairs and open presents."

"You have me," you quipped, softly running your fingertips over his broad shoulders and into the curls at the back of his head, "isn't that enough?"

"All I'll ever need," he spoke, his lips making an audible smooching sound as he kissed your shoulder, "but I don't think that's gonna be enough for the rest of my family. Not today, at least. C'mon," he began to peel himself off of you despite your noises of protest, tugging you to sit up on his childhood bed. "I'll make you coffee?"

That was all it took.

_______________________

Shawn walked over to where you were seated on his parents' couch with the widest smile you'd ever seen. He handed you a florally decorated mug and plopped down on the cushion beside yours, lifting his arm and prompting you to curl into his side.

Aaliyah went first, opening her gifts from her parents. You had your head on Shawn's shoulder, finding tranquility in watching him as he beamed at his family. You didn't even know what the gifts were—it didn't matter. Nothing could top what you were feeling.

Until Shawn slapped his thighs and stood from the couch, his plaid pyjama bottoms falling down and revealing his grey underwear. He held up his index finger, telling you to wait a second as he ran into another room to grab a bunch of gifts he'd been hiding. The shapes were a bit—obvious—so it made sense why he kept them elsewhere. Someone had to keep the Christmas spirit alive.

"Okay, Liyah, you first," Shawn spoke, handing her what was clearly a new hockey stick, expertly wrapped by you.

"I wonder what it is," Aaliyah laughed, daintily tearing the paper to reveal the exact same stick that she used, only a new one. "Thank you guys."

"Was all him," you nodded at Shawn, who raised his eyebrows to respond.

"She wrapped it," Shawn pointed at you, "Team effort. Completely."

Shawn was still leaning in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his right hand and your fingers in his left. It was uncomfortable, but it still felt right.

Shawn's parents proceeded to open their gifts from him—a spa gift card for Karen, a new cologne for Manny—and you realized he had signed all of the cards from both of you.

"Okay, baby, your turn," Shawn placed his mug on the coffee table to lift a big box into your lap, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead before resuming his standing position.

"You didn't have t-"

"Just open it," he spoke, his mouth a firm line as he watch with anticipation.

You ripped the red wrapping paper to reveal a large cardboard box, the word "fragile" printed on the sides. Once the paper was abandoned, you peeled back the tape and opened the cardboard flaps, pulling a very plain but very nice lamp from the box.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, smiling anyway because lamps were never a bad thing. But still—why?

"It's for," he paused, smiling as he spoke. He seemed nervous. "Your side of the bed. My-" he cut himself off, "our bed."

You were positive you'd disintegrated on the spot. It was the softest, kindest, most adorable gesture you'd ever experienced and his parents had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.

"Thank you, I love it," you smiled, tears threatening to form in your eyes as you placed the lamp down in front of you and pulled Shawn down to the couch for a hug.

"She doesn't even have a lamp? You didn't," Aaliyah paused, looking at Shawn, "give her a lamp?"

"Ehm," Shawn mumbled, clearly not having thought through the logistics of explaining such an odd gift. "No. No lamp."

Aaliyah looked confused but careless, slowly nodding and moving on. You laughed, softly drawing circles on his leg with your thumb.

"Guess it's your turn," you looked at Shawn, hopping up from your seat to grab the perfectly-wrapped box from under the Christmas tree. Shawn grinned at the blue and silver paper, looking up to meet your gaze as you nodded.

He ripped it open, revealing the blue rectangular box sporting the logo he knew all too well.

"Okay, let me explain," you spoke, sitting down on the couch beside him. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you looked at him as he shook his head with a grin, trying not to laugh. "So, you wear, like, two pairs of shoes. I figured you could use these."

Shawn flipped the box open, smiling and rolling his eyes at the black Skechers placed carefully in the shoebox.

"I know you hate them, but please trust me, they're cute and functional."

"Like you," Shawn spoke, a chuckle emerging from deep within his chest. "No, really, baby, I love them. Promise."

Shawn went on to explain your unacceptable footwear to his parents, his hand never leaving your thigh.

_________________

"Alright," Shawn spoke, flipping the lock on the front door and turning to face you, "you ready for some serious snuggling?"

You nodded excitedly, squealing a little as Shawn threw you over his shoulder and began to trudge his way into his bedroom, tossing you down on his bed and collapsing on the space next to you.

"Shawn?"

"Mm," he hummed with a smile, pulling you against him.

"How'd you know?" you asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You brought that lamp for me, so you knew we'd be together together by Christmas. How'd you know that would happen?"

"Had a feeling, I guess," he breathed, flattening onto his back. "I wasn't even sure I was gonna 'fess up."

"M'happy you did," you spoke, turning on your side to draw circles on his ribs through his t-shirt.

"Oh shit," he said, looking at you with startled eyes.

"What?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"I love you," he said softly, his features softening. "Realized I hadn't told you today yet. I don't want a day to go by where I don't say it."

"Shawn, you scared me," you laughed, "I love you. More."

"Mm, not true," his palms slid up your thighs as you shifted to sit on top of him, hands tightening around your hips. "M'gonna miss you tonight," he mumbled, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. You knew the look.

"I've gotta go to my parents', Shawn," you whined, "It's Christmas."

"Well, I was thinking," he raised a brow, "maybe if we both opt out of wine with dinner we can just come home tonight, neither of us will have to stay over."

"You should really stay over at your parents' again, bub," you looked down at him, stomach twirling as he crossed his hands behind his head.

"They had me last night."

"They also had me last night," you countered, "you need to spend some alone-time with them."

"Maybe," he nodded, his eyes glossing over your torso. "We've got a few hours, though," he smirked, his hands slowly ghosting up your thighs again, only this time continuing all the way to the swell of your ass.

Your cheeks went rosy as he eyed you with lust, puckering his lips a bit asking for a kiss. You granted his wish, planting your palms on his broad chest and leaning forward, capturing his soft lips in a gentle smooch.

He smiled against your lips as you nipped at him, rolling your hips against his middle as he chuckled.

"Slow down, kiddo," Shawn requested with a grin, his eyes crinkling beautifully at their corners.

"Mm," you hummed, "didn't get you the way I wanted you last night."

His brow shot up. "And how's that?"

"Panting," you started, kissing his lips softly and speaking again, "whining," you continued to list, making your way to his jaw, "moaning my name," you concluded, sucking a faint mark onto his windpipe as his breath shuddered.

"You can have whatever you want," Shawn choked, sweat beginning to form in his hairline as his face grew hot from your touch.

"M'thinkin' I need to relocate," you mewled against his ear, bucking your hips again.

"W-what do you mean?" he questioned, his eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

"I mean," you specified, "I need a seat."

"Oh my god," he muttered under his breath, suddenly remembering he had hands and they were on your butt and he could move them.

You moaned into his burning mouth as his fingers sunk into your yoga pants, kneading at the soft flesh of your ass.

"Need you," Shawn panted, slipping his fingers into your waistband and trying his best to push the spandex off your hips, desperate to have you naked on top of him.

Wasting no time, you paused to wiggle out of your pants and hoodie, eyes locked on Shawn as he did the same.

"Wow," he muttered with an ear-to-ear grin, pushing your shoulder so he could move on top of you. "It's not sex anymore."

You raised a brow, linking your hands over the fluffy curls at the nape of his neck. "Whatcha mean?"

"It's making loooove now," he teased with a giggle, dipping his head to litter kisses over the expanse of your neck.

"Oh, shut up," you shook your head, disconnecting your fingers to give his shoulders a squeeze.

"Babe, I'm serious," he spoke, detaching himself from your smooth skin to meet your playful gaze. His was deadpan. "I'm so, so, so in love with you. It's not just fucking you anymore. Not that it ever was, but that was what we agreed to. Know what I mean?"

And you did. Your heart swelled and beat in what must have been unison with his because if there was anything in the world you were sure of, it was Shawn. He was it.

You nodded, the back of your throat aching slightly as you tried not to cry. "I love you," you muttered, pulling his face to meet yours with a soft kiss.

"Ready?" he eyed you with a lick of his lips, your sharp inhale answering for you. "Come on."

Doe-eyed, you watched Shawn roll off your body and station himself to lay in the middle of the mattress, his hands making a grabby motion in the air. You sat up and wiggled out of your panties, the cool air of the room shocking your already-soaked heat. Shawn's eager hands made quick work of your hips, aiding your desperate squirming up his body to park yourself above his face.

"Jesus," you whispered to no one in particular, wondering how on earth you got here with someone like him ready to let you ride his face like the world fucking depended on it. But really, didn't it?

A smack on your leg brought you back to reality.

"Baby," Shawn giggled, nudging the expanse of stretch marks adorning the inside of your thigh with his nose, "need to taste you."

You nodded, breathless and speechless, absolutely and completely fucked for him. The second you closed the gap between your slick cunt and his perfect, soft, hungry lips, you knew you were done for.

Yes, you'd ridden Shawn's face before. Hell, you sat on his face the first time you had sex with him. But it was never—never— like this.

This was a motherfucking marvel.

His lips, his tongue, his hands—fuck, his hands. They were everywhere. You whined above his perfect fucking head as he licked and sucked at your clit, exploring everything soft and pink between your thighs with his fingers. It was less of a face fuck than it was a loving massage, and you were too busy floating in fucking heaven to complain.

"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck," you babbled as his nose pressed against your clit, a side effect of his tongue dipping between your slick folds. His hands squeezed as much of your ass as they could, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he truly couldn't get enough of this. Of you.

"Shawn," you gasped as a long finger slipped inside of you, curling and swirling between your walls, searching for the magic spot. Your knuckles were white, one hand gripping the headboard and the other tangled in his curls, pulling his flushed face impossibly closer to your swollen heat.

You were in a whole other fucking world. You never imagined your brain could be so empty yet so full at once, as you couldn't muster up a thought to save your own life but at the same time all that was running through your brain was Shawn Shawn Shawn. Shawn's face. Shawn's hands. Shawn's smile. Shawn's body. Shawn's perfect fucking cock. Shawn, Shawn, Shawn.

His hips gently thrusted into the air as you rocked back and forth on his tongue, a babbling mess atop his perfect face. He hummed as his massive palms came down on each of your thighs, a squeal leaving your lips as he brought you that much closer.

Your mouth hung open as his hands took the place of his lips and tongue, working your desperate cunt just the way you liked. His face was slick with your wetness as he smiled up at you, eyes glossy and so, so fucked.

"Fucking come for me," he grunted, the desperation in his voice somehow both gentle and orderly. You bucked into his hands, rocking back and forth rapidly until heat ripped through your body, forcing you to call out and whimper and pant above him. And he was fucking loving it.

"That's it, baby," he cooed, "you're so good, so good for me," he went on, carefully retracting his fingers from your heat despite your body's denial.

You keeled over with a breath, bracing yourself with the headboard to get a good look at the man beneath you. You were the first to say anything.

"I really fucking love you."

________________________

Your half-eaten chocolate mousse seemed to stare right back at you, practically begging to be devoured. You were too excited for an appetite, somehow tuning out your family's amplified banter as you eyed your iPhone, impatiently waiting for it to light up.

Shawn: Coming home tonight?

I am if you are

Shawn: If you are I am

You chuckled.

You're cute

Shawn: I miss you. When are you faking the sudden flu???

Dessert's almost over, and no flu. Just a boyfriend to get home to

Shawn: !!! they know??

Of course your family knew. You were practically screaming it at everyone telekinetically. You may as well have just tattooed 'Mendes' on your forehead because it really was, quite obviously, the only thing on your mind.

And that's why you left Christmas dinner an hour early and drove back into the city going at least thirty over.

"M'home!" you called to the empty condo, pouting a little as you realized you'd beaten him. A million thoughts raced through your mind at once.

You could light candles. You could dress up for him. You could dress down for him.

But fatigue ran its course, and you somehow found yourself clad in only hiphuggers and Shawn's old Eddie Vedder t-shirt as you screwed a light bulb into your new lamp.

"Baby!" you heard from the kitchen as the door shut loudly, Shawn's clumsy feet carrying him into his bedroom without even removing his ridiculously pointy boots. "Ohmygod, I love it."

You turned to him with a shit-eating grin, just in time for him to take your head in his hands and pepper kisses over every inch of your face. Your low bun was falling out and you were about to sneeze, so you patted his chest with a soft giggle.

"Looks great."

"S'perfect," you responded, twisting the base of the lamp so that the cord ran down the back of the bedside table.

"So," Shawn spoke as he left the room to toss his jacket on the couch and kick his boots off by the front door. "How was your night?"

"It's better now," you called back, peeling the goose duvet back and crawling in on your side. Your side.

"Same," he nodded, kicking his too-tight jeans off his ankles as his shirt was stuck over his head. You wondered how this man functioned.

He crawled in beside you, nodding at you to flick off the lamp. Your twisted frame came back into bed, smacking against his firm chest as you were pulled into a bear-hug-tanglement-of-limbs.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Shawn whispered with a kiss to your head.

And you knew you were really, truly home.