That first burst of sunlight is always an attack. He winced, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes

That first burst of sunlight is always an attack. He winced, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes, get some blessed shade, something to make the world tolerable as he made it so. Blink.  It was warm, but the kind of warm that didn’t stop the instant you got on the other side of the covers. Covers which, by the by, were already half off him, exposing his upper torso. The sunlight felt good against his skin in the same way it felt bad against his eyes. But that was sorting itself out just fine.  His hand dropped, and he propped himself up on the pillow. Head rolled on his shoulders, and he yawned slowly, languishing in the sensation with all the predatory instinct of a lion. Assured, comfortable. Powerful. “Good morning, handsome man.” The kind of voice you wanted to wake up to. His eyes roamed, finding her by the French Windows, wearing one of his shirts. He’d punish her for it later. She was smiling, which made his own lips curl, and he yawned again, all teeth. “Good morning, favourite slut.” She bit her lip, a silent giggle hovering in the space between them. One of his arms moved behind his head, a makeshift pillow as he regarded her. “And why, pray tell, are you not warming my bed? I thought we had a routine.” She shrugged, her gaze slipping off him and heading out into the garden. “You looked warm enough with the sun for company. And I wanted to get closer to it. It feels like summer."  It was moments like this that he marvelled at her. The in between moments, where everything was molasses in syrup, all but frozen in a sticky sludge. She didn’t ever seem quite real, in those moments. "Please, tell me where in the rules it says ‘Feel free to leave his bed if it’s a sunny day’? I’d love to get out my marker and strike it from the record.” She laughed, out loud this time, before turning back to look at him. “Don’t you ever think, Handsome Man, that maybe I break the rules precisely to get what I want? You’ve got such lovely hands, and I’ve got such a naughty bottom.” She pushed herself up off the floor and sauntered over to the bed, sliding onto it on her knees, crawling over to him. He reached out and grabbed her hand, before pulling her across his lap, feeling that soft chest against his legs, through the covers.  “Don’t you ever think, favourite slut, that perhaps I don’t give a fuck, and I just like making those beautiful cheeks a ruddy red?” He pushed the shirt up, baring her, before bringing his hand down hard, the sound like a gunshot, shattering the morning calm. She wriggled, grinning over her shoulder at him. “Mutually assured satisfaction.” She murmured, her voice melting into sex. -- source link

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