Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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George remained asleep until well past 2 p.m., nearly for 12 hours in total. I could tell how tired he was when he didn't stir even when I made a mess in the kitchen while attempting to prepare breakfast, which we were going to eat in the afternoon.

I started hurrying when I heard sounds from the bathroom, the running water indicating that he was awake. I couldn't believe how I've been struggling for an hour and a half, and yet the food was nowhere near being ready.

I was so focused on flipping the last pancake that I failed to notice George approaching from behind. His hands unexpectedly touched my waist, causing me to startle and jump slightly, luckily managing to avoid any mishaps with the pan.

"Hey!" I laughed, my voice filled with surprise, "Could've burned myself."

"Sorry," his arms tightened around my waist and the opposite happened to my fingers around the handle of the pan, "careful."

His advice wasn't easy to follow, as he buried his face into my neck. The sensation was so ticklish that I instinctively raised my shoulder in an attempt to escape it.

"Aah, it tickles," I giggled, and he purposefully rubbed his snout against my skin, causing me to shriek. "George!"

"I'll shave today, stop whining." I finally eased up on my raised shoulder as he placed his chin on it.

"I'm not whining, and it's not your stubble," I chuckled, "I'm just really ticklish."

Knowing him, I shouldn't have said that. Especially when his hands were already on my sides.

"Oh, is that so?" His response was swift as he began tickling me, and my laughter quickly escalated to the point of causing physical discomfort. I struggled to shift my body to face him, my movements frantic as I managed to grasp his wrists in an attempt to stop him.

"Stop it!" I urged, using my nails to lightly press into his skin. His contagious laughter made me smile, even though I was trying to be serious "Don't ever do that again."

"What are you gonna do? Laugh about it?" He smirked, fingers daring to touch my ribs again cause my nails weren't strong enough to keep them away.

"George, please." I pouted, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, silently pleading for his mercy and hoping it would work.

Before his gaze met my face, there was a playful grin planted on his lips. Yet when our eyes connected, his expression shifted. His mouth slowly relaxed, the smile melting away as he blinked. Even his hands seemed to loosen their grip, and I couldn't help but find it strange how just one word could work its magic.

He studied my entire face with his gaze, moving his eyes up and down, shifting between my lips and my eyes. He blinked slowly, as if savoring the moment.

"You're so pretty."

I blinked in response to his words, taking a moment to collect myself before speaking.

"What?" I smiled, feeling my heart race at his words because it was the first time he had said something like that.

He placed his fingers under my chin, softly tilting my face upward, his thumb lightly brushing against my bottom lip.

"So so pretty." He repeated.

I shut my eyes as he leaned in, his lips meeting mine in an unhurried, gentle kiss that made me feel like I was floating. A smile tugged at my lips during the kiss as I remembered his compliment, and he returned it, his own lips curving upwards. He pulled away briefly to look at me.

"Hm?" He practically mirrored my smile with his own, questioning the reason behind it.

"Just.. you're very affectionate in the mornings," I chuckled softly.

He leaned in again, his face finding the curve of my neck. Before I could object to the tickling, his lips pressed gently against a spot that made my knees go weak.

"You should've seen how affectionate you were at night." His low voice, just under my ear, burned, then froze me in my spot when I understood the context.

Did I.. did I do something while I was dreaming?

"What?" I exhaled softly, his lips barely grazing my skin, sending a tingling sensation.

"Wanna tell me about your dream?" His words left me momentarily speechless as he proceeded to recreate elements of my dream, starting with an open-mouthed kiss on my neck after he had enough of teasing it with gentle presses of his lips.

I was so fucked, but I didn't even get the chance to process it.

"W-what dream?" I couldn't even speak properly from the intensity of the feeling against my neck. I was trying my best to swallow any other sound other than heavy breathing that dared to escape.

He only took breaks to answer my questions. And his voice was doing to me almost just as much as the neck kisses.

"Your heart was beating so hard, I could feel it against my chest," he confessed softly, "I don't think it was a nightmare tho."

I tried to shake my head but his mouth latched on the spot below my ear, and all I could do was whimper at the feeling of his teeth grazing the delicate skin. I blindly looked for support, touching the counter behind me cause my legs were about to give out.

I felt the most delicious stinging sensation, and instinctively, my hand found its way into his hair. It wasn't to push him away, but to ensure he stayed right there.

However, my other hand accidentally came into contact with the stove at the worst angle. My forearm brushed against the still hot pan, causing me to recoil with a sharp movement.

The sudden reaction prompted George to withdraw his lips from my neck and swiftly grasp my arm.

"Oh fuck-" I groaned, not because it hurt alot, but because I realized that every existing thing simply existed to ruin our moments.

George sighed, probably thinking the same thing.

"Let me see," he held my arm gently, inspecting the red thick line slowly forming on it, "come here."

He pulled my arm over to the sink and let cold water run over it, while I stood still, clenching my teeth together because of the intense stinging.

"It's okay," I tried to pull my arm from under the water, but George's hold was stronger.

"You don't want it to blister," he warned, his eyes fixed on me while he held my arm over the sink.

"It's gonna blister anyway," I shrugged. The only thing blistering was my soul.

I noticed his eyes drifting to my neck, an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes seemed fixated on a particular spot.

I tried to look down but soon realized that I couldn't really see my neck even if I tried my hardest.

My other hand instinctively reached up to touch the area he had been kissing, and it burnt from my touch. "Oh god, is it all red?" I asked.

"Probably purple," he bit his lip, "Just say an iron fell on you, explains both marks."