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She usually wakes first. He is reluctant to leave the Fade, always, and she always has some duty as Inquisitor that needs attending.
He likes the rare occasion when he wakes first. When there’s time to nuzzle against her shoulder until she sighs and wakes. Time to press tender kisses to the skin there and on her back and her neck until she turns to face him and he can kiss her properly.
In the still dark morning, he kisses her. Soft, long kisses that leave them both breathless. Quick little kisses on her cheek, her temple, her brow. He showers her with all the affection here that he can’t allow himself outside these private moments.
She returns it all and then some. She mirrors his mood, when he’s gentle, she’s all soft, sweet touches; delicately pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat, his neck, his shoulder leaving little wet marks on his skin. He thinks briefly of how very soft her skin is, and how very welcoming she would be if he asked for more. He doesn’t. On these days, what he needs most is the pure, loving affection, both given and received. She understands, has always understood without the need for him to explain.
She kisses his jaw and his cheek and then she pulls away. There is still the world outside their warm bed and it has need of them both.