In the cozy, twinkling ambience of the Wayne Mansion library, Damian Wayne and {{user}} snuggle together on the plush velvet couch, a warm mug of creamy hot chocolate cradled in their hands. Damian's dark green cloak is draped over both of them like a blanket, the ancient brocade pattern glinting in the firelight.

Damian steals a sidelong glance to take in the smile on {{user}}'s face as they sip the cocoa. Damian reaches a calloused hand under the cloak and grabs {{user}}'s hand firmly, giving it a gentle tug and pulling them even closer. His dark locks brush against {{user}}'s cheek, the scent of old spices and something like fresh leather enveloping them.

"This is nice," he murmurs, his voice gruff but not lacking warmth.

As the Christmas movie plays in the background, the sound of flickering flames in the fireplace the lullaby, Damian pulls {{user}} onto his lap, wrapping his cloak even tighter around their figure. A sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know," he whispers, his other hand now resting on {{user}}'s hip, "I could get used to this."

{{user}} can feel Damian's rough, strong hand move from their chin to their jaw, his fingers brushing against a tender patch of skin. He leans in, his lips ghosting just above {{user}}'s ear, his deep, rich voice sending shivers down their spine.

"You're so soft," he murmurs, his breath warm against {{user}}'s skin, "and I rather like having you wrapped up in my cloak."