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He’s still asleep, head resting on your chest and light breathing fanning across your skin. His hair is flat, lacking its usual spiked style, and his shades are missing from his face, lying alone on the bedside table. One arm is laid out across your stomach, trailing up to your breast, fingers lightly tickling the sensitive skin pulled across your muscles. You ship slight, so that you are more on your side, his hand slipping from your chest as he also changes his position, still asleep. He rolls from his stomach onto his side, much like you rolled from your back into the same position, his head nestling into the pillows. You smile, studying his soft sleeping features. The dusting of freckles across ever so lightly tanned cheeks, the long curving eyelashes that frame his closed eyes, the fairness of his hair. You catch sight of the slight parting of his lips, smiling tiredly as you notice the shine of his orange braces. You reach out and brush a strand of soft hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear and causing his nose to wrinkle at the touch.
He then groans softly and snuggles in to you, face burying itself in your chest and arms wrapping around your waist. You sigh, green eyes looking towards the digital clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers blaring at your barely adjusted eyes. You flopped back down into the pillow, eyes once again drifting to your sleeping lovers face. Maybe you’d just call in sick today. You smile and wrap your arms around the others waist, tugging him closer to you and letting him lean up to snuggle into your neck.
His body feels small in yours – thin compared to how defined and muscled your body was. Not too toned, unlike body builders, your boyfriend would always tell you; but just enough to make girls swoon and make hugs awesome. The blonde, however, was not as toned as you – his muscles not being as defined or noticeable. He was in no way scrawny though – short, and slim, with the faded outline of a six pack and a nice, fine meatiness to his biceps.
You feel lips press against your neck, and you let out a breathy laugh, once again rolling onto your back and dragging the kissing culprit fully on top of you, his mouth quirking into a smile against the skin under your jaw.
“Mornin’” Dirk drawls, fingers running up and down your chest. He turns his head so he’s looking at you, a languid smirk pulling at his lips. You crane your neck sideways and smile, green meeting with lidded orange. You lean down and place a soft, lingering kiss on Dirk’s lips before pulling away but a mere centimetre.
“Morning,” You reply.
Dirk rolls off you and onto his back, head flopping to the side so that you are still both looking at each other, body heat mingling from the close proximity.
“You woke me up,” The blonde states, and you smile lopsidedly, cupping his cheek and shuffling over to take his face in both your hand, pressing your lips to his and kissing him deeper this time, the kiss punctuated by milliseconds of air before you kiss him again. His hands slide up to run through messy, sleep mussed black locks and you laugh, pulling away once more and whispering your next words against his lips.
“My apologies,” You mumble, and Dirk retracts his hands from your hair, letting them trail down your neck, over your shoulders and around your stomach as he drags his body towards yours, the bare skin of your chest meeting with the soft fabric of the too big shirt – your shirt, to be precise – that Dirk was wearing. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and sighs, eyes fluttering closed once again. Yours soon follow.
“I need more sleep.” He mutters, and you hum in agreement, making a final decision that yes, you will definitely call in sick today. You groan and sigh simultaneously, wriggling to make yourself comfortable once again.
“Love ya.” Dirk almost incoherently says into your skin and your hand slides under his shirt as you bring him closer, thumb tracing the bone of his hip in a circular motion. You kiss his hair, feeling his breath even out against your neck as he falls back into a light sleep, arms going slack and heavy around your waist.
“Love you too, Dirk.”
And the sunlight that streams through the gap in the curtains, or the tweeting birds outside doesn’t register in your brain as you join your lover in dreamland.
All you can feel is his heart beating against your chest, in time with your own.
His breath against your skin, and his body pressed firmly against yours.
And you think is that you could definitely get used to this.