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Spring sunlight siphoned through the curtains and Robert blinked awake, flat on his back, and glanced over to the alarm clock on the bedside table. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, noting the time as the glowing red digits cleared, and he smiled. It was that perfect time of day. Not so early that he was losing too much sleep, but early enough that he could spend some time lazing, snuggling warmly in the bed, and looking at his favourite –
Ah.
Robert rolled over to face Aaron, and felt the expression on his face that always made Aaron call him soft. Robert burrowed further under the quilt, drawing his hands up by his face, and stared his fill at his lovely, beautiful husband. Aaron was lying on his tummy, head facing Robert and face slightly smushed on one side by the pillow and his arms threaded underneath it. Robert’s eyes traced the lines of his bicep and shoulder, the muscle there carved by grafting at the scrapyard. The light pouring in lit Aaron up in sections, contours and planes cast in high relief or softened in shadow. Robert indulged in a sigh.
The air from his mouth must have tickled against Aaron’s face, because he started to stir, snuffling and scrunching up his nose. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and Robert couldn’t hold himself back any longer, reaching out to stroke Aaron’s face.
“Morning, husband,” he said quietly, the spring morning fragile as a web. He kept his voice low, not wanting to risk breaking the moment.
“M’r’ng,” Aaron replied, half into his pillow and half through a smile. They weren’t newlyweds anymore but there was always a smile tucked away for when they called each other husband. Robert had had to fight so hard to be able to say bisexual or boyfriend, it was kind of unbelievable how easily husband fit in his mouth, like the first brew of the morning, or Aaron’s tongue at night.
Aaron cracked an eye open and Robert continued gazing, continued stroking. The angle of the light made Aaron’s pupil contract sharply, the full searing blue of his iris on display, and Robert stared, rapt. Aaron’s sleep-warm cheek gathered a blush, and he adjusted so he was looking at Robert with both eyes rather than just the one, like he needed to see all of Robert as much as Robert needed to see all of him.
“Y’not sick of lookin’ at me yet?” Aaron grumbled playfully, his tone belied by the way he nuzzled into Robert’s touch. Robert didn’t even crack a smile.
“I could never get sick of looking at you,” he said, still reverent and quiet because as much as he was willing to shout how much he loved Aaron from the rooftops, there was only one person he needed to hear it. He ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead, then stroked his thumb along Aaron’s eyebrow, down the side of his face, along the bristled edge of his jaw. “They should put you in a gallery,” he added, thoughtfully. “Charge for tickets. They’d make a mint.”
If they were in full daylight, Aaron would probably snort and shove him, maybe call him an idiot. But this was the perfect time of day, Robert’s favourite time, where Aaron’s eyes went soft at the edges, where a half-hearted shut up was all the objection he offered.
“I mean it,” Robert said, following the natural trajectory of Aaron’s lines and angles to trace the shadows on his shoulder.
“Mm the Louvre’ll be onto me any day now,” Aaron said. Robert raised his eyebrows.
“Lookit you, Mr Louvre.” Aaron arched a brow in return.
“It’s one of the most famous galleries in the world, Robert. And I lived in France. For two years.”
“Alright, I get your point,” Robert smiled as Aaron settled. “Did you go?”
“Again,” Aaron rolled his eyes, smirking lightly as Robert continued tracing patterns on his skin. “Lived in France. Two years.”
“Did you see the Mona Lisa?” Robert asked idly. Aaron shook his head. “You’ve been to the Louvre but not seen the Mona Lisa?”
Aaron huffed a warm breath out. “I’ve seen the Mona Lisa printed on tea towels and in every movie that references France. If I’m spending a day wandering around looking at paintings I want it to be paintings I’ve never seen before.”
Robert’s hand paused its motion, considering. This long he had known Aaron, and still. Surprises. Then he laughed.
“What?” Aaron asked, shuffling closer, letting some of the cold air in under the blankets.
“Just…that’s the most practical way of thinking about art that I’ve ever heard.”
“Why is it that when you say practical it sounds like thick?” Aaron harrumphed, and Robert couldn’t be having that. He launched himself up, grabbing onto Aaron’s wrists and propelling him onto his back. Robert swung his leg over him.
“Because your ears are full of pillow,” he said, slapping down the pillow on either side of Aaron’s head as Aaron’s hands looped up around his neck, lovely arms on full display. As God, nature, and I intended it. “There,” Robert said, “That’s better. Now, you listening?”
Aaron rolled his eyes but Robert saw the smile he was hiding, tucking his chin pointlessly to his naked chest. His broad, naked chest. Robert smoothed his hands over the muscle there, only looking up when Aaron coughed, a full on smirk on his face now.
“You were gonna say sommat?”
“Eh – “ Robert grinned, “Sorry, got distracted. W-“
“You’re such a dope.”
“Only for you,” Robert teased. “And you can’t blame me. I mean this – “ Robert lowered his head to Aaron’s chest, placed a wet, slow kiss dead centre. “- this is art.”
“Robert.” Robert ducked down again, this time laying his lips above Aaron’s heart, feeling the steady thump skitter and jump. He smiled into the skin, looking up to meet Aaron’s eyes. Aaron scratched at the hair at Robert’s nape, affectionate and leisurely.
“I don’t think you’re thick, Aaron.”
“I know,” Aaron said.
“I think you’re wonderful,” he said, rising up onto his knees, leaning over Aaron again. Aaron tilted his head up for a kiss, and Robert granted it. Close-lipped to save them from the morning breath, simple because they had all the time in the world.
“You say it often enough,” Aaron teased. It was Robert’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Only you could make that sound like a bad quality for a spouse to have,” he said.
“I wouldn’t count that as one of your bad qualities.” Aaron dropped his hands from Robert’s neck to his waist, rubbing his palms in smooth circles over the warm skin.
“One of my – “
“I think you’re wonderful,” Aaron said lowly, reminding Robert of one of his best-worst days – the car at the bottom of the quarry, the lush cluster of trees where the man he loved stopped making him wait. “And I like lookin’ at you, too.”
Robert nudged Aaron’s nose with his, felt his husband’s eyes flutter closed, the brush of his lashes. Robert kissed the corner of Aaron’s mouth, drawing away to sit back on his heels. He looked his fill again, and Aaron looked back in turn. They didn’t speak again, just traded glances and gazes and blushes and smiles with each other. They filled the interval of the morning without work or other people demanding their attention with each other, moments ticking by honey-slow and just as sweetly. The perfect time of day.