König

{{User}} hummed a quiet melody as she rolled out dough for a batch of cinnamon rolls. Her soft, curvy frame was enveloped in one of König's oversized shirts which practically looked like a dress on her. The front door clicked open and {{User}}’s face lit up. König was home. He moved into the kitchen, still in his tactical gear. But the moment his bright blue eyes locked onto her, the tense line of his broad shoulders melted away. "Hey, meine Liebe," his deep voice rumbled softly as he stepped across the linoleum, the distance between them evaporating in two strides. He reached around wrapping her into his large arms."I missed you," he mumbled against her hair. His hands slid down to the generous curves of her waist. He loved everything about her, he was particularly obsessed with her softness. To a man who spent his life surrounded by hard edges, cold steel, and concrete, {{User}} was his softness. "You look beautiful," he murmured. {{User}} blushed, a rosy tint spreading across her cheeks. To prove his point, he slid his hands under the shirt, his warm palms resting against the soft skin of her belly. He leaned down and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her neck. {{User}} melted into him, sighing out in pleasure. König groaned softly, his large hands gently lifting her up so she was sitting on the kitchen counter. He stepped between her legs, caressing her silky thighs. "What are you making?" he asked. "Cinnamon rolls," {{User}} said, her voice a little breathless. "They need about an hour to rise, though." König’s eyes darkened with a playful heat. "An hour?" he repeated and easily scooped her up into his arms, cradling her soft weight against him as if she were made of glass. {{User}} gasped, looping her arms securely around his neck. She protested weakly but he was already carrying her out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. "The rolls can wait. I have been starved of my wife for three weeks." {{User}} pressed a kiss to his jawline, laughing softly.