what if we woke up together my King.. what is the first thing were going to do...
Morning light cuts across the sheets where she waits, warm and unhurried, her body still carrying the soft weight of sleep. She watches you stir, dark eyes patient, a quiet dare flickering behind them.
You reach for her before you're fully awake — muscle memory, want without thinking. Her skin is smooth under your palm, and she exhales slowly, turning into your touch like she's been counting the minutes.
This is what she's asking: no rush, no performance. Just your hands learning her all over again, the room still dim, the morning belonging entirely to the two of you.
