12 Days of Christmas.

December 10th

You snorted into your drink, wine threatening to escape from your mouth as you laughed. You were out in a bar with your friends, exchanging Secret Santa presents and just having a catch up. You'd been texting Tom on and off throughout the evening, sending stupid pictures of you and your friends with filters on, but mostly you were just enjoying spending time with your friends - as was he, in a pub across town. As the night wore on, though, you found yourself with a thirst that couldn't be quenched by sauvignon blanc, no matter how hard you tried.

You tried to focus on what your friends were saying, but, as it often does when alcohol is involved, the talk soon turned to sexlives (or lack thereof).

"God I haven't had sex in months," one of your friends groaned.

"I had sex this morning," you sipped your drink nonchalantly, shrugging as a hand shoved at your shoulder.

"Alright, no need to brag!"

You relaxed in your seat as your friends chattered about one night stands and fiances alike, finding yourself zoning out as you thought back to this morning. You'd woken up to Tom's lips on your neck and his hand between your legs, soft moans breaking the morning quiet as he pushed inside you, your back to his chest and legs tangled together.

You leant back in your seat, sliding your phone off the table to send a sneaky text or two.

I'm a lil drunk

All I can think about is you

Fuckin me

Tom must have had his phone in his hand, because he replied almost immediately.

That went from sweet

To hot

Really quick

You bit your lip, trying to conceal your smirk, but it was too late.

"Are you sexting?!" Your friend screeched in your ear, peeking over your shoulder at the screen.

"No!" You tucked your phone between your thigh and the faux leather seat to stop her reaching for it, sitting up straight and affixing an innocent smile to your face as you hastily changed the subject. "Anyway what's everyone's current thoughts on, uh... Brexit?"

Too many glasses of wine and way too much giggling later your group disbanded, work and life and family commitments demanding an early(ish) end to the festivities. You declined a seat in a taxi home, though, making your way across town to the pub instead. The wind whipped around you, your arms pulling your jacket tighter to your body. Your outfit wasn't exactly seasonally appropriate - a grey and black houndstooth mini dress with over the knee boots, a leather jacket thrown over the top - but it was cute, and you wouldn't be out long. In any case, the wine in your system kept you warm enough.

You speed-walked down the highstreet, past the stalls of the Christmas Market shut up for the night, the lights strung overhead lighting your way. You tapped out a text to Tom as you approached the familiar building, letting him know you were there. A wall of heat hit you as you pulled open the heavy doors, the change in temperature sending a shiver over you. You weaved through tables and people, trying to put some distance between you and the cold air whistling around the door as looked around for a familiar face.

"Hey."

A pair of hands on your waist made you jump, your face relaxing into a smile when you saw who they belonged to. Tom's hands gripped the fabric of your dress as you cupped his face, kissing him a little more deeply than you might normally have done in public were you a little more in control of your inhibitions.