She always wakes before him.

She keeps that quiet space because she savors the time to really hear him. His steady breath, the rhythm of a heart still deep in dreams.

She curls into him slowly, careful not to wake what she’s admiring…planting light kisses on his shoulder. She breathes him in, lets his scent settle her, studies the handsome calm of his face at rest.

There’s something special in him like this…the unguarded version. So she lingers in this moment where the world can’t touch him and he is only hers.

Him:

He always wakes after her. He doesn’t know when she stirs, only that the world feels softer before his eyes open. She always tucks her weight closer, fitting herself to him, like she’s listening for something.

He feels the kisses more than he registers them…warm, barely there, pressed into his shoulder with intention, breathing him in like he matters…like he’s something worth having.

Half asleep, he lets himself stay still, lets her think he’s lost in dreams because being watched like that…chosen in the quiet…does something to him.

And when he finally opens his eyes, he pulls her closer, as if to say: I felt you. I always do.

Written by https://www.threads.com/@gardenz.of.grey

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