Lazy Saturday Morning
Tracked from ( X )
Maybe if he was smaller, or she weighed more than a sack of potatoes the bed would have shifted more. He would have shifted more. But neither is a reality so neither do so. And there’s a sleepy sort of smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips. That has hands drifting up to find familiar homes along her sides. Hands that waste very little time slipping down to her hips.
The tease of a kiss rattling a hum in his throat, before lips lazily respond to hers. A two-toned gaze cracking open when she laughs. Correcting her previous statement. A chuckle of his own because he might be sleepy but he’s not dumb. And maybe he lets her settle a minute. Doesn’t say anything, letting the moment sink into his bones.
Because every moment like this is a treasure. Something he’s learned to memorize every aspect of. Because tomorrow...the next...a month, a year from now it could all be gone. She could be gone. And if his long life has taught him anything it’s never to take the small moments, the little things for granted.
But even for all that he teases back. Nose brushed against hers ever so gently. As those hands move even farther down and back. Drifting only so far beneath a silk hem.
“Go’som’t’in’ else n’moind, love?”
