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One of Arthur's favourite things about waking up was getting to see Charles at his most beautiful. Don't get him wrong, Charles was gorgeous any time of day, but in the morning sunlight? Well, Arthur thought he could die happy at the sight beside him. This morning was no different.
Arthur had woken with a soft yawn, sprawled rather haphazardly on the mattress. He turned his head to see whether Charles was still asleep through the sliver of light that peeked through their windows, threatening to cast a glow on Arthur's lover and create an image of sweet serenity.
Charles was on his stomach, arms under his head, hair down and splayed on his back. Arthur's eyes raked over the smooth, dark expanse of his shoulders, and down his spine, which held an air of strength even in slumber. A body that seemed to fit the description of some sort of God, not that Arthur believed in such things.
During puberty, Arthur acted as any boy did and pleased himself to the imagination of women. Though as he grew older, his eyes got hungry for more and seemed to betray his own thoughts, often being able to appreciate the strong body of a man. When he set eyes on Charles the first time, he knew he was done for.
Continuing their gentle gaze, Arthur's eyes landed on the unforgettable sight of his hair. Long, tenderly groomed strands that pooled like silk which his hands had grown accustomed to feeling under his fingers when Arthur would offer to brush Charles' hair - causing for a simple, sweet moment before their day started. Charles sometimes wore it in a braid, sometimes a bun, if he was feeling lazy then a tail - but Arthur's favourite would always be when he had it down.
Charles' hands were a marvel of their own. Strong, calloused and worn from days of labour, but so gentle when they handled Arthur, as if he should be something treasured. Something worth the hassle. He wasn't sure where Charles got that impression from sometimes.
Arthurs eyes flickered to the small scars on Charles' face, proof of the things he's lived through. Arthur had memorised all the scars on his lover's body years ago and could name each one blind. Something that always felt rather intimate because he was sure Charles could do the same for him.
There was a low rumble as brown eyes blinked sleepily up at him.
"Mm.. Morning."
Arthur just smiled a little, watching Charles shift under the covers to try to stretch out some of the ache that sleep left for the waking.
Charles shuffled onto his side to face Arthur, one of those previously mentioned hands working on moving stray, silk hairs away from his face, eyes still heavy and cheek pressed into the pillow.
"Mornin', beautiful." Arthur drawled back reverently after a moment, coaxing a smile from his lover, and earning a tiny kiss for his sap.
"How long have you been up for?" Charles asked, eyes scanning the depths of Arthur's own.
He realised very early on that Charles' eyes were unforgiving. They saw every tiny detail and could pry anyone's secrets out of the pupil of their eyes, where their soul was. Arthur thought it was witchcraft, and Charles was the most alluring witch he'd ever had the pleasure of getting all sweet on.
"Not long." He replied, though didn't truly know how long he had spent drinking up the sight of Charles.
Arthur's hand moved on its own, coming to cup his broad jaw, thumb tracing a familiar scar. Charles let his eyes flutter close, to soak up the touch before the two had to get up and ready for the day ahead.
"We should get up soon, I reckon. You said we'd go hunt today." Arthur mentioned, though not in much of a hurry to get up if he was honest.
Charles turned his face to press a kiss the palm of Arthur's hand, "Maybe. Or we could stay here a little longer."
Arthur huffed amusedly. Charles never used to be one to sleep in back in their outlaw days, always first to rise and last to sleep. Perhaps settling down did that to a man, make him comfortable. While some may call it laziness - Arthur thought it was stability.
Arthur wasn't upset when Charles' hand snaked to his waist to tug him closer, nor was he upset when the sheets seemed far too warm to leave and hunt like they were supposed to. He knew Charles wouldn't let them laze for too long (a man can only change so much) and he'd be forced to get up eventually. So he let himself soak the presence beside him for a little longer.