he wakes to the first rays of dawn filtering through the filmy curtains, casting the gentlest of glows across the room, his own body, and that of the figure sleeping next to him. it’s a warm early april, the windows cast open to allow in fresh air and sunlight alike, and the throes of sleep still lap at his toes, hoping to pull him under once more; undeniably tempting, he must admit, but no more so than the form lain supine just adjacent, his lips parting around quiet, steady breaths.
arsenio’s fallen for him at an alarming rate, this doe-eyed frenchman with a passionate love for both the seaside and the world as seen through the viewfinder of his camera. it’s been a whirlwind romance, built on snatches of broken english exchanged between the pair and nights spent communicating far more fluently using only their bodies and the sounds of their breaths, skin against skin in the pitch dark until they inevitably succumb to unconsciousness wrapped in one another’s arms, jacque’s voice cooing sweet nothings in his ear.
touch feather-light, he runs a thumb down the sharp curve of jacque’s jawline, tangling fingers through his hair before daring to press his nose against the soft hollow of his lover’s collarbone. the sun’s already begun to break over the horizon, and arsenio hates to miss it, even to stay in bed with the beautiful boy he’s come to tentatively call his own. ❛ jacque … svegliati, bambino. the sun ––– you want to see him rise, sì? ❜
eyelids flutter at the sound of a soft voice the voice he’s started to know as well as the shutter of his camera and his own heartbeat. a deep breath follows as jacque shifts slightly, fingers sliding into the other’s hair just like arsenio has done; an action as automatic as normal as breathing to the male. sleep clings to him but starts to slip away, lips quirking up, soft and barely there, dieu he wishes for an hours worth of sleep, but he’s come to know once his lover is awake, so is he.
arsenio just the thought of his name makes jacque’s heart beat ten times faster; between each beat he grows fonder, and any falling has already been done. like the romantic he is, jacque knows from f i r s t sight the other was going to be the death of him in the best way possible. never has he felt this much; the laughter against each other’s mouth in the dark, the exploring and the sense of freedom that seems to trail his lover always is addictive and mouth watering as clothes get left behind like breadcrumbs.
missing the sunset is something jacque hasn’t known for a while and yes, he misses his sleeping in, the other’s expression every time is always worth every second lost under the covers, no matter how much he groans to his lover. “oui, oui.” it’s said with a s l o w sigh as his eyelids finally opening, the sleepy gaze immediately finding the only sight it wants to set his own sights on, a teasing grin slowly making it’s way on his lips. “the soleil almost would think you would be leaving me for him. étoiles dans vos yeux when you think of him, no?”
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