The kitchen was quiet except for the soft simmer of your dinner on the stove. You were focused, humming to yourself as you stirred, the scent of spices filling the air.

Until a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Darling… Are you done…?”

Maz’s voice was low, laced with a dramatic pout as he pressed himself closer to you. His warmth settled around you, his arms refusing to let go.

You let out a small chuckle. But Maz wasn’t finished.

“Darling…” he whined again, now resting his head gently on your shoulder, his hair brushing your cheek. You could practically feel the pout against your skin.

He tightened his arms a little more around your waist, refusing to move. Like dinner could wait—but you couldn’t.

“You’ve been ignoring me for a whole hour…” he murmured.

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes.

But you smiled anyway.

Because with Maz, love always came in warm back hugs, soft whines, and the need to be close—always.