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Annoying chirping birds, unruly fringes matted to his forehead, and a blinding slither of sunlight directed right onto his retina — what a horrendous way to start off the day. Even worse is that his alarm hasn’t even rang yet, leaving him with 15 more minutes to spare until the routine weekday 7AM shrill.
Suna groans with a dry throat, itching for a few heavy gulps of water, and contemplates what he should do next.
He could get up and get an early start. The extra time would give him the luxury of cooking something a little more complex, or allow him the time to style his hair for a little longer. He could, but why would he when he can try to squeeze in some more sleep instead? 15 minutes is a lot in his world. It’s enough to give him an extra boost when it’s actually time to get up, but when he rolls over and catches your slumbering figure before him, every ounce of deliberation is thrown out the window in favour of simply soaking you in.
Although, it’s unfair, he thinks, how attractive you look even when you’re asleep.
Suna’s bleary eyes trace the outline of your face. From the delicate silk of your eyelashes to the curve of your chin, and before he knows it, his fingers follow along his trail of vision with touches so feather light that you’d think he’s worshiping you — maybe he is. Maybe he finds reverence in the softness of your cheeks, maybe he finds adoration in the slope of your nose, and maybe he finds devotion in the curve of your lips.
“Is this what you do every morning?”, you pipe up all of a sudden with your eyes still closed, startling Rintarō into a freeze, effectively jostling him out of his trance, “Not sure if it’s sweet or creepy.”
“How mean.”, he retorts monotonously, but is more than playful when he manhandles you closer to the warmth of his chest. His long limbs are perched and clinging closer to yours with the slight burn of his cheeks hidden away from your eyes.
With a joyous laughter, you twist your head out of his stronghold to gaze into his piercing eyes. Eyes you could swim for an eternity in, eyes of a colour you memorise and revisit in every daydream, eyes that hold the soul of the very man you tethered yours to, and you cup his face in between two careful hands. Softly, a chaste kiss is placed upon his lips, sweet and gentle before whispering against them, “Is that enough to make it up to you?”.
Every word you breathe sends tingles all over Suna’s body, sensual and electric on his skin, deep and purring in his gut. It’s not long before the press of your body against his and the warmth of your breath makes the corners of his mouth quirk into a delighted smirk.
“No.”, he whispers back, impish in his tone and the way his eyes shine when he grabs your hips, “One more.”
Rintarō leans forward and captures your lips, moulding with practiced fluidity against yours over and over and over again. Each time with more fervour, more hunger than the last. It’s passionate. It’s heated. It encompasses your senses with nothing but his scent, his taste, his touch, and it makes your head spin. It makes your hand fist at his bare chest to ground yourself, and it makes you moan for him. A moan so aroused, so vividly sultry that it wraps his spine in shivers and lights a dangerous fire in his loins.
He takes your lower lip between his teeth with an alluring smile, sharp eyes gliding to half mast, yellow-grey shading dark with lust, unrelenting in his regard. Always such a tease, but you can play his game too. Wet and warm, your tongue flicks out to lick a stripe at his lips, fleeting in its contact, but serves its purpose to tantalise him into chasing after your appendage with his own. Suna licks hotly into your parted mouth, worshiping in every heated glide against your tongue, reverent in every surface he touches. It’s easy to get lost in the way your breaths mingle, in the way he whispers your name, in the way your eyes shut close so you can immerse yourself in him. In the way he slides his hand down to the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging imprints as he presses himself flush to you. Your heart pounds, your throat gasps, and you all but drag your nails past his nape and up into his hair, tugging at the soft tuft of dark brown. Just the way you know that gets him groaning in carnal want—
The shrill ring of Suna’s alarm blares from the night stand.
Both of you startle with wide open eyes.
The kiss is over.
The moment is ruined.
He can’t help but heave a lengthy sigh, one of which only seems to draw out snickers from you.
“Good morning.”, you greet fondly as you run your fingers through his messy bed head, an affectionate act that has him nearly purring into your arms, a sweet gesture that has him reluctant to go to work.
“Get up before you’re late, Rintarō.”
“Maybe I’ll call in sick—”, he laments dramatically with cherry-kissed lips. You giggle at his little act, only to call him silly and usher him out of bed, like you do most mornings with him by your side.
The birds are even louder than before, the fringes of his unruly hair refuse to stay down, and the blinding sunlight now in full force when you slide open the curtains. Not that any of that matters anymore, not when he’s gotten his extra 15 minutes of domestic bliss with you — what a lovely way to start off the day.