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Title: Can I Take Pictures?
Fandom: WWE
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Punk/Lita
Complete: Yes.
Summary: The sight of her in his boxers always did him in for reasons he couldn't explain.
Warning: None. Some language, minute sexuality.
Notes: Based on prompt week 7: undergarments at [livejournal.com profile] lita_fics


Punk shifted around in the bed, groaning at the feeling of soreness all over his body. He stretched his arms over his head, gripping the headboard he twisted around, stretching his limbs and releasing it from his grip slowly. He inhaled, noticing the smell of bacon in the air his stomach growled and he smiled.

Slipping out of bed he pulled on a pair of clean boxers, padding into the kitchen he wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and kissed her shoulder gently. "Hmm you look good like this," he commented, massaging her hips and enjoying the look of her in a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts.

Lita laughed, turning in his arms she kissed him solidly on the lips, her mouth moving against his. "I'm glad, because I'm keeping this little outfit for when you're on the road," she told him with a smile.

"Oh..." Punk's smile turned lecherous. "Can I take pictures first?" He joked, stepping back before she could try and hit him.

"You are such an ass sometimes you know that," Lita brandished the spatula at him, threatening to hit him with it. "As if I would let you take pictures of me like that," she hissed, turning back to the frying pan she served up his eggs and bacon.

Punk grinned at her, "I'm certain I could convince you." His dark eyes held nothing but promise.

Lita found her cheeks pinkening against her will, knowing full well how he could convince her she shook her head. "You're awful," she took the plates into the living room and deposited his on the coffee table while she curled up on the couch with hers.

"You love me," Punk said assuredly after grabbing a Pepsi from the fridge and walking into the living room quickly behind her, hardly able to take his eyes off her legs. He didn't like anyone's but hers and it was an almost constant source of annoyance for her how much he stared, and amusing for him.

"Yes I do, but that doesn't mean I don't see you for what you are," Lita responded cattily, popping a forkful of food into her mouth. "Which is a pig, just like most men can be. You're lucky though because you don't seem to have as many piggish moments as the rest of your gender." She ate some more, keeping her eyes on him. "You're just lucky I didn't think of packing it in and becoming a lesbian."

Punk paused, his fork partway to his mouth as he pictured that for a moment, a grin splitting his face.

"Oh god," Lita covered her face with one hand.

Punk shrugged, "I'm trying Li, I swear, but sometimes you give me images that are just too much," he leaned over, kissing her softly. "I would say I'm pretty lucky because you chose me."

Lita made a soft noise into his lips and pulled away, "I'm not letting you take pictures of me in your boxers."

"Damn," Punk pretended to pout then laughed. "I don't need pictures, I'll remember this," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm sure you will," Lita ate for a few more moments.

"Stop staring asshole."

"I can't help it, you look hot."
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