Here's a smooth, natural English version that keeps the BL tone and uses correct pronouns:
It's almost New Year again, and soon it'll be our first wedding anniversary. Funny how we only truly started getting to know each other when we were on the verge of divorce—because of our different backgrounds, our families, and the stupid idea that neither of us actually loved the other. But now we know. Now we understand just how much we love each other and how well we fit together.
Life's gotten easier, lighter, more fun. We talk about everything, no more pressure. I don't know if Santa Claus is real, but if he is, I want to thank him for giving me this man. He's the best gift I've ever gotten.
"Wai."
"Yes, love? What is it?"
"My dad's coming today. Tidy up the table for him."
"Why's the Chairman coming over?"
"No idea. If he wants to come, he comes."
"And what are you cooking for him today?"
"A lot of things."
Look at him—acting all smug. He's totally asking for it.
"Love, you can do everything. Who does my amazing boyfriend belong to, huh?"
I charge at him right away, wrapping my arms around him from behind just to let him know how obsessed I am with him. His back is broad and long, his waist not slim but solid and thick, abs clearly defined—everything about him has become even more irresistible to me since we reconciled.
"Why are you hugging me? I'm cooking," he grumbles, but he stays still and lets me latch onto his neck anyway.
"Keep cooking, love. I just want to do this too," I whisper huskily against his ear, rubbing a sausage against his ass way too much—enough that certain parts of me start reacting. I'm such a damn pervert… me, not him.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Today, my partner was wearing that bear-patterned apron again. The thin pants he'd slept in hadn't even been changed yet, and they slipped down to the floor. I couldn't resist taking out my "mischievous sausage" and teasing him while he stood by the stove. His chest got a playful nudge as I swayed against him. Even though it wasn't the real deal yet, I practiced my moves, biting playfully at his neck and tracing along his broad shoulders.
"I want to try this while you're cooking… curious how it would feel," I said, teasing him with my fingers. He gripped the spatula tight.
"What would I feel? Hot, I guess… I might topple into the pot," he muttered like he was refusing, but I could tell he was already stirred. He swayed slightly, responding to my playful intrusion.
"Hold on tight," I said.
I was being cheeky, just how he liked it—hands roaming over his firm, lean body, switching from chest to teasing along him, playful but not mean-spirited. He had to endure my antics, caught between laughing and flinching.
"You're… already excited? You're ridiculous," he glanced at me, a tinge of red coloring his face. I couldn't help grinning. Even thinking about us not being in love, we'd done every playful thing together—if we ever had kids, there'd be no shortage of chaos.
"My love, looking from behind like that… drives me crazy." The more I teased, the more the reaction intensified, sending shivers that made it impossible not to be captivated.
"Why are you flattering me so much? What do you want?" The partner busied with the final touches in the kitchen, adding seasonings here and there.
"I want you, my love."
Just saying it softly made the effect noticeable. My partner paused, turning away from the stove for a moment, hands wiping, pretending to focus, but I knew the attention was on me.
"Talking too much," came the playful complaint.
"I just want to talk to my love. Lean a bit, I want to explore," I whispered, brushing close, teasing around the ear. The blush on my partner's face was undeniable, a mix of embarrassment and excitement, a heat that made the air sizzle.
"Hey!" came a sharp little protest, but it was more bashful than serious. The reaction only made me bolder, pressing closer, hands moving playfully, teasing and nudging in the way that always made my partner tense up, gripping the counter for support.
The playfulness continued, building up tension with every movement. My partner's reactions were intense, a mix of surprise and delight, shifting, leaning, balancing against the counter, each motion making the moment wilder, more chaotic, but undeniably fun and intimate.
"Do you like it? You like this, don't you?" I asked, voice low.
"Y-Yeah… I do," came the breathy reply.
"Hold on tight, my love."
Since we'd confessed our feelings, my partner had been calmer, but moments like this—full of playful teasing and close contact—always brought out a spark. Even on a quiet morning, after getting up early to cook, the kitchen became our little playground.
The playful tussle continued, swaying, leaning, teasing with laughter and gasps, until we had to stabilize each other, holding close to keep balance. The energy was overwhelming, thrilling, and intimate, leaving both of us flushed and laughing, hearts racing, and deeply connected.