Kyle was warm in a way you hadn't been in weeks. His chest was a solid pillow, his heartrate a calming lullaby.
He made you feel warm and loved and so very sleepy. He didn't take offense to it, like most would. He knows you don't think he's boring, just that you feel safe.
Whenever he shifted, you shifted with him, reaching out to make sure he was still there. He always was. No need for worry, luv, I'm right here.
You felt almost dizzy with it, the warmth of his love for you.
Your eyes were half lidded as you glanced up at him. His beauty was a whole other kind of dizziness. He was perfect. The hair on his chin, the scars on his cheeks, his full lips. You traced every line of his face with reverance, and he let you without question.
Your hand migrated to his scalp, feeling the texture of his hair like it was the best thing you've ever felt (it was). His eyes looked at you with the utmost adoration, like he was the lucky one instead of you.
When his soft lips met yours, you couldn't help but melt into it. Sleepy, soft, slow kisses were everything and more on nights like this one. You finally got to keep him for more than a few weeks at a time.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you further on his chest. In between kisses, the two of you fell asleep right there. And when you woke up? You got to do it all again because he was still there, still warm, and still hopelessly in love with you.
This was your home. This was his safe haven from the war.
