create until nothing is left to create

sleepy kisses

Your eyes open one at a time, and you move your head against Joe's thighs from where you're laying in his lap. Your face is pushed into the fabric of his sweater, and you tilt your head towards the ceiling, your hand coming up to scratch the itch on your nose. Joe peers down at you, his glasses glinting, and he threads his fingers through your hair. "Good evening, Sleeping Beauty," he greets you, and you smile at him as his face gradually comes into focus.

"What time is it?" you rasp, and he glances at his watch.

"Eight," he murmurs, and you squint at the windows, the sky indigo and steadily darkening further. You rub tiredly at your eyes, and Joe's fingers in your hair send tingles across your scalp.

You stretch your legs out over the side of the couch. "My head hurts," you say through a yawn, and his lips turn down slightly.

"Come up here," he instructs, and you pull yourself into a sitting position, your weight pressing into his lap. His hands cup your cheeks, and he plants a kiss on your forehead. You tilt your chin up, and his lips slot between yours. You hum, and his lips part, and you match his movements, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth without hesitation. Your cheeks are hot beneath his hands, and he licks into your mouth lazily, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin while you whine into his mouth.

His teeth graze your lower lip, and you squirm in his lap. Chuckling, he draws back to look at you, your eyes tired and glossed over and your face red.

You try to kiss him again, but he shifts to lay down and pulls you on top of him, and your face thuds into his chest. He reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covers you both with it, and then he drags your face to his, kissing you with the softest lips. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your chin has you sighing, your lips parted wide, and his tongue slides over yours slowly, languidly.

You're desperate and wanting, and you reach for the collar of his shirt, tugging the fabric up and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, smashing your mouth into his. He grunts, surprised, and you swear you feel something twitch in his pants, but then he disconnects his lips from yours and strokes your hair, breathing heavily, and says, "Go back to sleep, honey."

"But I want to kiss you more," you protest, and your fingers close around his shirt button, slipping it back through the hole to expose more of his chest. You lean down and kiss him there, and you hear his breath hitch.

Still, he's insistent. "Please, it's been a long day. I want you to rest," he mutters, his voice rough and maybe lower than before, and you're so close to changing his mind, you know it, but you obey him instead, lightly petting his chest hair and settling your weight on top of him, burying your face in his neck. You smile as the scent of flowers and soap fills your nose, and he relaxes underneath you.