I Have An Objection! [ Levi x OC ] [ Moderate Editing ]

Ch. 13: Repression Translates to Contentment

I groaned, irked by his lecture. "What if I said it was so I could visit Levi sooner?"

"Wouldn't help your case in the slightest," he deadpanned. I hummed a short tune, fiddling with the fabric of his pajama shirt as he exhaled a breath in annoyance. "Roxanne, knock it off, go to bed if you're tired."

"Marco," I moaned, nestling my face in the crook of his neck. Blowing a wisp of air to his skin, I giggled and murmured, "Why don't you come back to my room and help me with something?"

"N-no," he stammered out, gritting his teeth. "Let me write this paper without your promiscuous whimpering in my ear."

I grinned devilishly. "Oh, Marco . . . God, I need you so badly . . . Marco . . ."

"Roxanne," he said, my name muffled from a hand cupped over his mouth.

"Marco . . ."

"Roxanne!"

I lowered my voice to sheer seduction. "Pick out my clothes for tomorrow."

He relinquished a throaty cry in aggravation. "Will you leave me alone if I do?!"

"Yes," I replied in the sweetest, squeakiest voice I could utter.

With a huff, he stood up as I inched away from him, smiling in the process. Marco trudged out to the hall and to my bedroom with me in suit, flipping the light switch on for some much-needed light. "Gosh, I love you so much, Marco," I purred, examining him as he opened my closet and rifled through my clothes.

"You are a dictator, with your damn alluring tone and--Ah! What about this?" He pulled out a cream, knee-length dress, complete with long sleeves and thin lace across the shoulders and upper back. The top was fitted to reveal no cleavage when worn, and the hem was slightly pleated for less restriction during movement.

I clapped my hands together and gasped joyfully, exclaiming, "I almost forgot about that! It's so cute, so wonderful, so perfect!"

"If you pair it with some white stockings and those black Mary Jane heels of yours, you'll have Levi melting when he sees you." Marco smirked and placed the article of clothing back in the closet. "Gotta stay classy, Roxanne. It's the real way to a man's heart."

"Is that how you fell for me?" I teased, batting my eyelashes at the fashion expert.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he droned. "Now, you have a big day tomorrow, go climb in bed. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Right. Your's or mine?"

"Mine." He twirled me around and shoved me out of the room by my shoulders. "Go before I change my mind."

When we returned to his own bedroom, I slinked under his flannel sheets and pulled them up closer to my face. Marco smiled as I got situated, but right as he was about to leave, I tugged the hem of his shirt. "Marco."

"Hm?" he hummed, facing me once again.

"I really mean it when I say I love you." The covers were now covering my cheeks. "I would have gone insane by now if you weren't here with me. So . . . thank you, for everything."

"Don't mention it." He bent over to kiss the bridge of my nose. "I love you too, Roxanne. Good night."

The next morning, I awoke in Marco's arms, his once haggard and sleep-deprived face was glazed over with tranquility and blissful rest. There was no purpose to wake him, so instead I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and crept out of bed to fulfill my morning rituals. After showering and dressing in the attire Marco picked out, I spotted said freckled boy in the kitchen, slouched in his chair and head resting in his arms.