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It was early in the morning. You’d woken up due to the incessant scratching of the small family of house sparrows that had somehow found their way into the attic. You’d thought about perhaps calling some kind of service to remove them, but you didn’t want to hurt them. So you’d left them. Unfortunately meaning you’d risen to them moving about above in the uppermost part of the house. Must have found a hole to crawl into and made a nest up there. At least it was insulted. Smart birds.
You were tired, your eyes drooping slightly as you found it a little hard to stay awake. Your gaze drifted to the clock on the wall as you sat at the kitchen counter, the face reading “6:02”. Letting out a slight groan, you rubbed your eyes lazily and popped two pieces of toast in the toaster, getting out some jam, a knife and a plate. Yawning, you let your eyes close gently and stood there, quietly resting as you stood in wait for your breakfast.
You shared a room with your husband, Miguel. Of course it was one of the biggest sizes of bed you could get due to his massive frame taking up most of it each night, resulting in you often lying against or into him as there wasn’t as much space for you. You didn’t mind. He was warm and cosy, and you enjoyed his smell. You’d gotten out of bed quietly as not to disturb him; he was a deep sleeper. Which you were glad about, too, meaning he likely wouldn’t have heard the sparrows this morning at all. He snored slightly, too. Only just.
In your half sleep state, you were completely unaware of the soft sounds of floorboards creaking underfoot, and soft fabric rustling.
That was until you felt Miguel’s warm presence wrap his arms around you from behind, startling you awake slightly. He leaned his head down, curling himself into you a tad as his fingers interlocked and his hands rested against your stomach, hugging you from the back, almost completely encasing you in his large build.
“Morning cariño…” Miguel mumbled groggily against the shell of your ear, his morning voice raspy and very evidently tired. Your eyes widened as you felt the slight sensation of butterflies in your lower stomach, blinking yourself awake.
“Morning.” You replied with a soft smile as he planted a warm kiss against your cheek, closing his eyes and drinking in your scent. He was in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers and a navy dressing gown, pressed against you as his thumb rubbed back and forth in a soothing motion below your belly button.
“Making toast..?” He whispered, suppressing a yawn. He was definitely not a morning person. You wondered whether the sparrows had finally got to him or whether you’d woken him up getting out of bed. Maybe he’d gotten up on his own. He usually awoke around 7:30, 9:00 on the weekends. He was a night owl, often governed by some of the late shifts he worked at the lab.
You hummed in reply, nodding as your hands came up to cup his. He always felt warm. It was like being married to a radiator.
Miguel exhaled softly, the corners of his lips upturning subtly as he placed a kiss on the side of your forehead, peppering the soft touch of his lips down your neck, and nuzzling his nose into the sensitive area under your jawbone. It tickled.
You giggled softly, squirming as he smirked in victory. He knew you were ticklish there. Who wasn’t? But you knew he liked to exploit it.
“You’re up early…” You cooed, letting your eyes trailing over the definition of his chest as you craned your neck upwards and to the side slightly. He blinked slowly, swallowing as a lazy smile spread across his face. “Heard you get up. M’couldn’t sleep…” He purred, inhaling the smell of your hair and looking down at you with hooded eyes, a strand of stray hair falling over his face.
Your brief admiration for him was ended by the sound of the toast popping up.
“Oh- toasts ready.” You chuckled, gently removing yourself from his grasp and reaching out to pluck the hot slice of bread from the toaster. Miguel’s bushy brows creased slightly, still in a sleepy state. He grabbed you by the waist, careful to not to be too forceful, dragging you back towards him and picking you up.
Your eyes widened as he lifted you into his arms, a smirk on his face as he carried you away from your breakfast and back towards their bedroom. Bridal style. Easy for him, the absolute mountain of a man.
“Miguel- what-?! My toast! Miguel!” You protested, your head turning back to look at your likely now about-to-go-cold toast. He simply ignored your pleas to return to the kitchen, dumping you onto the soft sheets and climbing on top of you.
He wrapped his thick arms around you, pulling you close as he buried his face into your neck, his legs brushing yours. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly given how little he was wearing, pressed flush against his body. His warmth radiated off onto you, closing his eyes and snickering softly to himself.
“Miguel-? I need to go get my toast, it’ll go cold.” You replied, your brows upturning. He simply shook his head into the crook of your neck, smirking against your skin.
“That can wait. I’m still tired and I’d prefer if you slept with me. Five more minutes…” He whispered, his deep voice vibrating against your ear.
You sighed, your mouth setting briefly in a firm line as you accepted your fate. After a moment however, your eyes fluttered shut, and you snuggled into him to rest. You could always make some more toast.