Xavier's always had a jealousy problem, but he’s particularly on edge tonight. After a long day fighting Wanderers with you, the very last thing he wanted was to run into that fucking neighbor again. The one with bakery fliers and bread that made you smile; that alone was enough to put him on Xavier’s shitlist.

And now, even though he’s finally alone with you, he still can’t shake the bone-deep frustration boiling inside him. Snip, snip, snip. The plants he’s trimming as a distraction tremble under the assault, losing far more leaves than necessary—before you interrupt him with a tap of your foot. Your playfulness chafes where it would usually soothe. Don’t take it out on the plants, hm?

“Where should I put it then?” he muses, touch drifting reverently up your thigh. That tone; so deceptively quiet, but no less deadly. Razors wrapped in silk. Of course, he’s not angry with you. Never with you. He’s angry with every stranger who thinks they have a claim on your time.

But you know that, right? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you enjoy this. Enjoy poking at the jealousy coiled like a viper in his abdomen just to see what happens. So you have no one to blame but yourself for the position you’re in now; facing the window, pressed to the glass with his chest against your back, caged between his arms.

“How quickly I calm down depends…on who I’m with,” he murmurs. The kisses he leaves along your shoulder are slow but intense, drinking in your taste on his way to your lips. “It also depends on how I want to calm myself down.”

And then he's on you. His lips are warm and soft despite the urgency, coaxing sounds out of you that have him holding back a groan. He could devour you right here. Press you against the glass and unleash the full force of his frustration until your legs turn boneless. Maybe if he makes it loud enough, your precious neighbor will hear.

But instead he scoops you against his chest, carrying you with sure steps to the nearby sofa.

"It looks like I won't be easily satisfied tonight."