He just looks so good in the mornings.
Flaming locks of red hair down, mouth full from the toothpaste foam that he scrubs at, his sweatpants low on his hips to reveal just the smallest slip of the band of his boxers. His eyes sleepily blink at himself, but widen and curve into a smile as you slowly creep into the bathroom to be with him.
“Hey beautiful,” he hums, voice warbled behind the toothbrush and paste. “You’re up early, ain’t ya?”
“It was cold,” you pout, your arms wrapping lowly around his waist as you burrow into the muscles of his back. Seemingly second nature, his free hand rests on top of yours, fingers nudging to lace affectionately in your sleepy grip. “Hate when you leave so early…”
“I know, momma,” he hums, bending down slightly to spit the frothed toothpaste in the sink. “But’ll only be for a few hours; I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
“But that’s too long,” you whine. His back shakes as he chuckles, bouncing you slightly, and you do your best to hide the smile that wants to break out over your face.
“You can be a good girl for me, yeah?” He says, gently bringing the hand he’s holding closer to his face. “I’ll grab some nice dinner for us on my way home, have a quiet night in?” Lips plant a kiss to your soft knuckles, and you smile as the kisses turn into little pecks over all of your fingers, gingerly extending them so he may kiss the pads.
“Your stubble is wild today,” you snort, fingers curling slightly under the tickle of the coarse hairs.
He snorts and gently lets go of your hand, “fuck, I know.” The hand once holding yours scratching over the grate of his cheeks, “gotta shave this shit before I go- I forget you’re not used to seein’ my five o’clock shadow.”
“It’s hot,” you purr, and this makes the glimmer in his eyes turn playful, and the lips on his face turn to a smirk.
“How hot is it?” He murmurs, leaning down to rest his face in the crook of your neck. You squeal and toss your arms around his shoulders, giggling softly with the feeling of his stubble raking over the thin skin of your neck. You mewl and burrow into the warm muscles as he lets his hands wander lovingly.
“Hot enough where you should call out and be with me,” you murmur, relishing in the way his chest rumbles with laughter. "Hot enough where I'm officially pissed you shave it every morning. Hot enough where I want you to throw me on the-"
"Okay," he interrupts, smirking all the same. "Point taken. You like my stubble."
You scoff and lean up to kiss him again, another chance at savoring the coarse hairs on his jaw and cheeks.
"'Like it?' My love, it's damned delicious."
You say nothing else as you spin on your heel, leaving him alone in the brightness in the bathroom to linger on your words.
You smirk into your cup of tea when he comes out unshaven.