From the First Morning Light ~ Miztrezboo

From the First Morning Light

I love watching him sleep.  I could do so for hours upon hours.  I do do so quite often.  

I love the way he curls in upon himself.  All squooshy and small, considering how tall and lanky he is when his is awake.  He's like this human pretzel wrapped in our crisp linen duvet. I only washed the sheets yesterday so now when he wakes up and heads out for his morning jog, I can jump back under the covers and smell sunshine and fresh air and Jasper. I wonder if he knows that I cocoon myself in here the moment he's out the door.

A light breeze flicks across his skin and his shoulders bunch as he snuggles in further. His curls are free and floaty about his face.  Its a messy halo of pure white gold and they're soft, so soft; kind of how I'd imagine a lion's mane to be.  They look unbelievable against my slate grey sheets: millions of coils in a mix of a spun sugar, and warm honey tones. 

I want to touch them.  Pull on them just a little so they spring back up like they do when he lays his head on my lap to watch TV.  Or when I tug them randomly while he tells me about his day at dinner.  He normally lets me play for a short while, then he shakes his head and gives me this look that has my fingers twitching but falling back to my lap anyway. 

His eyelids flutter.  His dreams are ending and soon he'll make that little noise in his throat and his mouth will open and close, dry lips met with a wet tongue. Just thinking about his tongue has my thighs clenching, rubbing together and I have to rearrange my legs where I'm sitting across from him on my mothers old rattan chair.  

Last night was good. Great even.  I hate it when he leaves on these stupid conferences but I love it when he gets home.  He'll smell like recycled air and old sweat covered by the aftershave that he puts an extra dab of on in hopes to disguise the staleness. It doesn't but I kiss his lips and scruffy clean shaven jaw just the same because underneath all of that, is the taste of his skin, and thats what I miss the most.  

His back arches and he yawns and I'm playing with the loose thread on my thigh high socks.  He didn't even bother to take them off when he finally threw me on the bed, his head too busy between my legs and his fingers raking over skin that burned with his touch.  There's a hole on the side I can't stop playing with, the edges are stained a dark crimson.  He got a little excited when he picked me up and pushed me against the door, my leg hitting the corner of the side table where he threw his keys.  Its nothing, a small scratch, but I know when he see's it those molten mercury eyes of his will darken into solid steel. 

He hates to see me hurt, even if its something as little as this nick.  Maybe he won't see...

I know he will. He never misses anything.

He rolls onto his back, stretching, unfurling like new growth on a fern. Warm, golden body parts emerge from slate grey bedding; spiders legs appearing and disappearing as he shifts muscles and tendons awkwardly from sleep. His mouth opens and those pearly whites are on show and he's making that morning sound that has my lips pulling into a secret smile.  I wonder if he knows how loud he can be? He sounds like one of those gorillas we saw at the zoo when they pound there chests and call out in greeting.

I stifle the bubble of laughter that is building in my throat.

He blinks and it's long dark lashes revealing silver saucers. Dark and light, dark and light and then light and searching the ceiling. Pupils fix and dilate only to fix again as he rolls back on his side and finds me.  Dusky pink lips quirk up at one side as he smiles coyly, his large hand reaching out in my direction.

"Ali, were you watching me sleep?"

I nod, tucking a piece of my birdsnest ebony hair behind my ear. I wince and reverse my move, untangling the few strands that have caught in the recent addition to my hand that I haven't gotten used to yet.

"If it's too big or-" he starts, his brow furrowing and I stop him with a shake of my head.  His fingers curl out towards me, beckoning me over.  I can't resist.  I can never resist and I leave my cosy watching place and slide under the covers in front of him after he shuffles backward, making me room.

His breath is warm on my dawn chilled skin when he nuzzles his whisker covered cheek and jaw against me. I roll my shoulders and press myself into his warmth. "Is it really okay, Ali? You know I'm not good with buying these sorts of things." He mumbles and without seeing his face I know his cheeks will be flushing berry. 

I take his hand in mine, wrapping it around my waist and bring us closer still. "I love it." 

I can feel his smile as his kisses become wet and his hand starts to wander over the thin T-shirt I'm wearing till his fingers find that hardened peak and I'm sighing long and low. 

"I'm glad you do. Happy birthday, baby." he whispers before his teeth graze the tender skin at my ear, and then the blanket is over us, and he is covering me and we are lost in each other once more.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY WEEZY WOO!  Hope your 30th+ year is freaking teeriffic love you MUCHO GRANDE and MORE! xoxo Cass