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You slowly wake to the feeling of a hand brushing over your head and the gentle press of lips against your temple. Blearily stirring, trying to open your eyes, mumbling incoherently, a voice above you chuckles, warm and rich and familiar. Your instincts would have you grabbing your weapon otherwise.
"Shh, sweetie. Go back to sleep," Sylus coos, though even he knows you won't. It's been a week since he saw you last. Business overseas took longer than expected, and life at home was too busy to bring you along with him. He didn't tell you he would be home tonight. And he's glad he didn't, to see the way your body fights its exhaustion just to greet him.
You reach out blindly, desperate to feel him, to know that he's real. He chuckles as he takes your hand and guides it to his face, where you can feel the edge of his smile pressing into your palm. You squint up at him through the darkness. He's certain you can't see anything more than the shine of his eyes, but it's all you need to have a dumb, lopsided smile stretching your face. "Sylus..."
He hums. Hearing your voice in person is such a special treat. A welcome reprieve from the phone call muffling and voice message static. He leans in closer, without meaning to, to chase the sweet sound. "I'm home."
"You're home...!" you repeat, sleepy yet ecstatic. A yawn chases after it."When didju get back?"
"The jet landed half an hour ago."
"Are you tired?"
He huffs a laugh. "I might be. Why? Does a little kitten need some company tonight?"
Your smile gets brighter, cheeks squishing your eyes nearly shut. You nod. "Yes, please."
"Of course, little kitten." He kisses your cheek, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. He can feel your peace radiating off of you in warm waves. The bliss of having him back home with you. "Give me a minute to change."
You're loath to let him go as he stands to his full height, but your exhaustion is slowly winning out. He has to tuck your hand into your blankets to stop it from falling limply back to the bed. You try to watch him move around the room. Witness the space he takes up as he works efficiently to remove his jacket and socks and redress into some pajamas. Even that becomes too tiring. So you listen. To the rustle of fabric as he kicks off his jeans and pulls on his sleep shirt. The soft steps over carpet as he sets his watch and jewelry on the vanity in the corner.
By the time he lifts the blankets on his side of the bed and slips in, you can't track his movements anymore. Your mind drifts in and out of sleep, lingering in the hazy in-between. You can feel the heat of him at your back, and the strength of his arms that pull you against his chest - but that too slips away. Replaced with void and dreams.
Sylus, still quite awake especially at this late hour, buries his face into your neck. He breathes you in deeply. The scent of his body wash mixed with your shampoo, and the perfume he specially ordered for you. He lets it wash away the smell of the jet's interior and the cities overseas; the leather of his car when he rushed over and all the meals he ate alone. Until your fragrance is all he can remember.
His lips have a mind of their own, peppering your skin with their affection. He's careful not to wake you. Mindful of his desire to kiss every inch of your skin to re-familiarize himself with your body. Perhaps if you weren't fighting to cling to consciousness just to welcome him home, then he would have kissed you senseless back into the plush of the pillow. Whispered how much he missed you against your lips as he tasted the mint of your toothpaste.
All of that can wait. He'll make up for the time he's been gone - he'll make sure of it. For now, though, while you sleep all safe and secure in his arms, he'll match the rise and fall of your breaths, and count the seconds until he gets to hear your voice again.