You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, watching your boyfriend in bed still sleeping and you sighed to yourself.
"Mikey, come on," you called out to him again. "It's Christmas, you need to get up."
He groaned, rolling over onto his side, facing away from you before replying. "So? Give me five more minutes."
You rolled your eyes, laughing. "You said that half an hour ago, come on Michael, I need your help."
He doesn't reply this time, instead just burrowing himself further under the duvet, his fluffy bed hair the only thing you could see of him now as the top of his head poked out, the rest of his body and his face were covered by the big duvet.
"I'll let you open your presents early," you tried to tempt him but he didn't budge. "Or you can be in charge of the turkey and I won't look when you pinch a slice before our parents get here."
Still nothing.
You began clearing up his discarded clothes that lay on the floor, folding them neatly on the linen box you had tucked at the end of the bed, as you made your way across the room towards him.
When you stood by the side of the bed you could hear his soft snores muffled in his pillow and you felt your lips tug up in a smile.
Sleeping Michael was always so beautiful.
But now you needed him awake and alert to help you out with organising the Christmas dinner.
So you climbed into the bed, shifting next to him and his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight against his bare body as he mumbled incoherently into the pillow he had pressed his face against.
You laughed lightly to yourself before slowly running one of your hands along his back, up to his shoulder, feeling him shiver involuntarily at your touch as you took a firm hold of him. You managed to free yourself from his arm and you pulled on his shoulder, flipping him over onto his back so you could now see his face and you watched as his lips pouted and he huffed, scrunching his eyes up.
You straddled his lap, smiling down at him as you stroked one hand gently down his cheek to coax him to open his eyes. They fluttered open and he stared up at you groggily.
"It's Christmas, Michael, get up." You said, your voice just a whisper between you both.
He groaned and you expected him to protest a little more, but instead he reached his hands up to pull you down so you were lying on top of him, your clothed chest flush against his bare one.
"I'm already up." He replied.
You didn't realise what he meant at first, but when he groaned again and you felt him against the top of your thigh, you blushed.
Pushing away from him and climbing off of him and the bed completely, you placed a hand on your hip and he stared up at you longingly.
"If you get up and help me now, there'll be plenty of time for that later." You told him and, despite him still looking like he was about to fall back asleep any second, he smirked up at you, shifting himself to sit up as he pushed the duvet off of him completely now, before he pulled you back down onto his lap.
"If we're quick now, I can still help you and then we can still do it again later." He mumbled against your neck as he began pressing light kisses against your skin.
His voice was husky from his sleep and the combination of that plus his soft kisses was enough to make you consider his offer.
You twisted yourself around so you weren't sitting sideways across him anymore and your legs were now tucked either side of him, before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.
"Merry Christmas, Clifford." You muttered against his mouth and you felt him smile against yours.