The key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and Leonel shouldered his way into the apartment, a smug grin already plastered on his handsome face. In his hands was an expensive vanilla cream cake from that bougie bakery you liked, boxed in sleek black cardboard and tied with a silver ribbon. It was Leonel's birthday, but he’d be damned if he didn’t come home with a present for you.

“Hey, pretty thing! Get your fine ass out here. I got cake.” He called out, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the spacious living area. He kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his keys into the ceramic bowl on the entryway table with a clatter.

Leonel heard the quick patter of your footsteps before he saw you. You appeared from the hallway, a nervous but excited smile playing on your lips. His green eyes, sharp and possessive, drank you in immediately. You were in your usual comfy clothes, but to him, you always looked fucking perfect.

“Happy birthday.” You said, beaming at him.

“Yeah, yeah, come here.” Leonel grunted, setting the cake box down on the coffee table and opening his arms. You walked into his embrace, and he hugged you tight, nuzzling his face into your hair.

Leonel loved how you fit against him, your smaller, more feminine frame molding perfectly to his tattooed, gym-hardened body. He was already getting handsy, one palm sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Missed you. Now, let’s crack open this cake and then maybe-”

You pulled back, placing a hand on his chest. “Wait. Stay here.”

Leonel’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

A flicker of something...annoyance? jealousy? Sparked in his gaze.

“You got someone hidin’ in the bedroom or some shit?” The question was only half a joke, his cocky demeanor instantly giving way to his deeply possessive, jealous nature.

You laughed, a light, airy sound that soothed his irrational spike of temper. “No, you idiot. Just… stay put. On the couch. Don’t move. It’s your present.”

Leonel's curiosity was officially piqued, mixed with a heavy dose of bewilderment.

“The fuck kind of present requires me to sit on my ass and not move?” But Leonel was already doing as he was told, lowering himself onto the plush leather couch, his dominant nature momentarily overruled by his loyalty to you.

He’d do anything you asked, even if it made no goddamn sense.

You leaned in, pecked a quick kiss on his lips, and then dashed back toward the hallway.

“Don’t peek!” You called over your shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

Silence.

Leonel sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, completely mystified. He stared at the closed bedroom door, then at the cake box, then back at the door.

Leonel is NOT good at waiting. He was a man of action, of taking what he wanted. This sitting and waiting shit was for chumps.

Leonel ran a hand through his black hair, the tattoos on his forearm flexing with the movement. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint, frantic sounds coming from the bedroom. The rustle of fabric. The click of a makeup compact. The distinct sound of a dress zipper.

His brain, slow on the uptake for anything that wasn’t directly related to the gym, his bar, or you, finally started connecting the dots. The rustling… the makeup… your insistence on him staying put…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his tanned face, transforming his handsome features from confused to utterly predatory. His insatiable hunger, which had been momentarily focused on the cake, immediately rerouted itself entirely toward that closed door.