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It's a lazy evening between you and Ashley, well, more like a completely lazy day. Neither of you bothered with pants today, instead settling for sweatshirts and underwear right after your joint shower because that's what mature adults who are in a committed relationship do.
"Hey, babe," you say after Ashley has popped back into the living room and slumped across from you on the couch.
"Hi, I think I'm done painting for now." Ashley had been wandering throughout the house in between working on her latest piece and waiting for the different parts of it to dry all day, a habit you'd gotten used to since the end of tour and beginning of her studio sessions. You had been so tickled each time she'd sidle up next to you with adorable paint smudges on her hands and even her legs and face.
"How'd it turn out?"
"It looks good, but don't be surprised if I'm not in bed at some point during the night. I'm waiting for some parts to dry so I can add details."
"And you decided to grace me with your presence until then?" You tease and flash a smile at your girlfriend.
"You better feel blessed as fuck." She sits back, pulls the hood of her sweatshirt up, and settles horizontally on the plush couch.
The sweatshirt rides up after she lays down and exposes the tiniest bit of her stomach, but you can't take your eyes off of the porcelain skin. There's something so sultry about the way she's laying in her underwear with the smooth skin of her legs on full display. None of it is deliberate either, just Ashley being Ashley. Light from the lamp makes her look softer than usual too, casting it's subtle glow throughout the room.
You know you're leering but it's hard to stop when she's looking so damn good. Not to mention the fact that she's yours. She woke up with you this morning, showered with you, and chose to spend her day at the house the two of you share. You absentmindedly lick your lips all while a chorus of, "mine, mine, mine" repeats in your head.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Ashley says lazily after a minute or maybe an hour, you're not sure. Time doesn't work properly when she's around. Her voice is an octave lower than it usually is, though, and you know that she doesn't mind your ravenous eyes.
"Maybe I will," you challenge. "Where's the Polaroid?"
"Nightstand."
You think that leaving the room will somehow affect the magic of this moment you're in, so you don't get up to get it; instead choosing to use your phone. "Stay still," you murmur.
Ashley pulls the drawstrings up to cover part of her face a millisecond before you press the shutter button, but her eyes never move from you.
You take a second one for good measure because she looks ethereal right now.
"You got your picture now come here," you move to put your phone down and move over, "but I want to see it."
"Okay," you oblige easily and settle in so that her front is pressed snugly against your back. She lifts the phone from your hands but holds it so both of you can see. You lazily watch her flick through your camera roll. Ashley pauses every so often to glance at a picture of the two of you and it makes you smile.
"You have a lot of my nudes on here," she says absentmindedly while navigating to the latest picture.
You scoff. "They're not nudes if all the good stuff is covered."
"Touché . Oh, shit." She breathes after reaching the newest photo. You think that maybe she sees herself in the way that you did a few minutes ago, the way you see her every fucking moment of every fucking day. "This is an awesome picture."
You hum. "You look fucking beautiful."
"Can I post it on Instagram?"
"Sure," you shrug, kind of disappointed that so many people will get to see her the same way that you do and probably not appreciate it nearly as much.
"I won't if you don't want me to," she says softly. "I know you like to have stuff like this to yourself. It just looks so good."
"Post it, Ash. I don't mind, as long you know you're mine and that this is how I see you. You're gorgeous and ethereal, not just now, but all the time."
Ashley buries her head into your back, probably blushing and smiling at your confession. "I fucking love you," she mumbles. "Thank you."
