Work Text:
Sun leaked through the blinds, nudging you with its gentle warmth and light. You stirred awake, noting that Kurama was still asleep next to you. It was rare for you to wake up before him—he was a natural early riser and a criminally light sleeper.
You considered letting him sleep. He probably had another late night at work; you did not remember hearing him come to bed. You rolled to the side, pushing the sheets off your torso. You were about to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, but you felt Kurama’s arm thread around your waist.
“Where are you headed off to, my love?” he said, eyes half-closed as he tried to ward off the sleepiness.
You gave him an apologetic glance. “Oh, I couldn’t sleep anymore, and I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I’d go heat up water for tea and make some breakfast.”
“I don’t think so.” He pulled you close until you nearly fell on top of him, and you snuggled up next to his warm body, readjusting yourself under the covers. “I’d rather keep you for myself, even if it’s just a little longer.”
“Mm, I think I have a few more moments.” Your back was against his chest, the warmth welcome against the chill air of the apartment.
Kurama nuzzled his face against your neck, pressing his lips to your skin in a trail of gentle kisses.
There were many mornings like this, when you woke up the subtle smell of lavender and citrus, hints of roses and mint. He reminded you of a still mountain spring, a quiet place where you could find refuge away from the mundane worries of the world.
He was your haven, a gentleman, the best thing that had ever happened to you. Ever since you started dating, you discovered things about yourself and your relationship that brought you catharsis—it was not always easy. You both had demons, both figuratively and literally, that you had to consider and combat, and you rose above those challenges for a better life with one another.
You felt at peace when Kurama was here, and especially so when you were alone, cuddled up beneath the comforter—it was autumn, the first nippy cold present in the mornings, and the time spent between the moments you woke up and rolled out of bed were especially cherished.
His breath tickled your neck, soft and playful, almost like a warm breeze that tousled your hair. He tucked one arm beneath your pillow, the other around your waist, his hand pressed against your skin through your night clothes.
It was his touch that made you swoon the most, the way his hands knew your body, how his fingers moved along your skin, gliding with the most mild of feather-touches—it made you sigh and murmur, pressing closer to him. Intimacy with him was a treat, a pleasure that you experienced nearly every day, basking in each other’s company, even if it was for a few precious moments.
Several minutes later, when you felt you could fall back asleep tucked into his arms, you opened your eyes.
Kurama stirred behind you, humming in greeting. “I think that cup of tea sounds nice, don’t you? And maybe something for breakfast?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m too relaxed now.”
“Hm? I thought you were hungry.”
“I was.”
“I never realized hunger disappeared so easily. I could certainly use a bite to eat.” There was a mischievous tone in the way he spoke to you, and he tipped his chin forward to nibble on your ear.
“Kurama, you fiend!” you said, suppressing a laugh as you defended yourself, scooting away.
He caught you before you could roll off of the bed, arms strong around your waist. “Are you hungry now?” he said, bringing you closer until you were face to face.
“I suppose I could use something to eat.” Your stomach growled unceremoniously.
“Good.” Kurama pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s sate the call of the beast.”
You looked at your stomach, wondering if “beast” was an appropriate word for it. Sometimes, you were ravenously hungry for no reason at all, and you certainly enjoyed a good meal. “What are you feeling?” you said.
“Mm… well, it’s Sunday morning. Perhaps some breakfast on the balcony?”
“I like the sound of that.” It would likely be a little chilly outside, but a steaming cup of tea and a nice blanket would fix that.
You and Kurama slipped out of bed, not even bothering to change into your day clothes. You leisurely prepared your favorite breakfast in the kitchen, while he brewed the tea, washed the fruit, and poked fun at you anytime your stomach growled.
You considered throwing a pancake at him.
But, of course, that would be a waste of a perfectly good pancake.
When you finally finished cooking, you walked out with your plated dishes onto the balcony. Kurama was already there, pouring your tea and growing a bouquet of flowers on the small table.
“Oh, those are beautiful,” you said as you set the plates down.
Not only was Kurama able to grow plants easily, but he had honed his skills in the fine art of flower arranging. His bouquets were not only fresh and fragrant—they were created with care, each flower and leaf organized in a way that was satisfying to the eyes, the colors melding flawlessly into one another.
He knew what arrangements you liked best, and any time he thought to give you a bouquet, it always seemed perfect for the occasion.
Kurama only grinned at your compliment. “I’m happy you like them.”
You both sat down and began to eat, enjoying the crisp morning air, the twittering of birds, and one another’s company.
You bantered and chatted—you had grocery shopping and a trip to the bank for today’s errands, and Kurama had promised his stepbrother that he would help him with his resume and a few job applications. It seemed that it would be a busy day.
But as you made your way back to the master bedroom, ready to peel your clothes off and change to begin your tasks, you felt Kurama’s arms around you as he gently pushed you back into bed.
“What?” you said, as your bottom touched the mattress. “I have stuff to do today, if you haven’t noticed, and if I recall, so do you.”
He had a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and he leaned into you, his face only an inch from yours. “Nothing’s so important that it can’t wait an hour or so, hm?”
It was always his countenance, his voice, the way he spoke that drew you to him, and you felt the heat rising in your body. You touched his chest, your hands sliding up toward his shoulders, and your lips met in an impassioned kiss—it tasted of maple syrup and the floral leaves of jasmine tea.
The morning would last far longer than you intended, filled with affection and spontaneous intimacy.
This was your life with Kurama, your safe place, your haven, and you would have it no other way.