Very rarely was Loki awake before 10 on a Sunday morning.
He loved his sleep, and there was only ever one thing, one person, that he would sacrifice his sleeping time for.
If you were there, he liked to be awake with the rising sun. Liked to watch you as you slept, learn every part of your body like a well read book. He treasured every precious moment he shared with you before you had to go.
The morning sun poured through the window he'd left open last night, pooling the room in its warm light. It's rays splashed across your skin, gently dappled by the large tree that grew to the left of the window. By noon it would no longer obstruct the light, making his modest balcony the perfect place to enjoy a lazy brunch.
It was a shame you could never stay long enough to find out.
You stirred, turning slightly in your sleep before settling, pulling the duvet cover tighter around your chest. He smiled to himself, watching your eyelids gently flutter. The duvet was pulled just high enough to cover your breasts, something he personally considered a royal shame, but just low enough that from where he lay on his side he was still able to admire the curve of your breasts, the light smattering of freckles leading from your septum all the way up to your clavicle, trailing slightly down your left shoulder before coming to an abrupt stop.
He badly wanted to twirl the strands of soft hair between his fingers that lay just shy of your shoulder blades, badly wanted to press gentle kisses up the side of your neck, all the way to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. He could almost hear the soft, breathy moans that would escape your plump lips if he were to wake you whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
His hand rested gently on your hip, your bare body a beautiful reminder of the hours he'd spent making love to you the night before. The mere thought of it was beginning to arouse him, so he cast it from his mind in the interest of not rousing you. Perhaps that could wait until you woke up, time permitting.
Your gentle breathing tickled his bare chest, as did the occasional twitching of your left foot along the inside of his calf. He loved the feeling of his body against yours, loved the intimacy of holding you in his arms, wearing nothing but the rolex watch he'd received for his twenty-first birthday. He loved you so much it hurt.
He was not certain about many things in his life, but that was one thing he was sure about. He'd loved you yesterday, loved you today, would love you tomorrow, love you forever. When he died, he was fairly certain that the atoms that his body was made up of would go on loving you.
Suddenly the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe were staring back into his own. You smiled as he caught your gaze, lazily stretching your legs out under the duvet that covered you both.
"Good morning." He whispered, smiling back at you. You responded by leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips.
This was pure perfection. Just the two of you and an abundance of sleepy kisses. He could stay here, in bed with you, in your little bubble of love and sex forever.
"I love you." He breathed, cupping the side of your face as he kissed you. Gone were the gentle, chaste kisses, nothing more than a brush of lips, making way for a hot, passionate embrace. You slotted together perfectly, almost as if you were made to love each other.
It would make it all the more heartbreaking when in exactly four weeks' time you would be marrying his brother.
author's interjection:
oops
p.s sort of feel like making this into a series
