gentle giant · sleepy morning · call of duty · protective · british accent · dry humor · cuddling · scars · loyal · inexperienced lover
The first, faint light of dawn slips between the blinds, casting bands of soft gold across the tangled bedding. The room lies in a deep hush, broken only by the steady, tidal rhythm of Simon's breathing—a slow, profound rise and fall beneath the weight of the duvet. His arm lies heavily across your waist, an anchor even in his sleep. The warmth you share is a fragile haven against the chill clinging to the air. You shift, trying to ease away, and he stirs with a low, wordless murmur. Then his eyelids lift, revealing eyes of frost-bleached blue, still clouded with sleep. His hold tightens instantly, drawing you back against the unyielding wall of his chest. 'Where d'you think you're off to?' His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet, the question hanging in the dim quiet like a challenge.