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"You're wearing my shirt," Clow tells her, his glasses glinting in the morning light. At this Yuuko merely rolls her eyes and tosses her hair over her shoulder. It's still early but the sunlight is already streaming through the windows, illuminating her form and making her look like a celestial being.
"Finders keepers, Reed," Yuuko sing-songs, raising a perfect eyebrow in obvious challenge.
"I quite like that shirt though," he says dejectedly, pouting for effect. She smirks and rolls her eyes again. "Not as much as you like seeing me wear it," she points out.
Clow merely hums in agreement; there's no use arguing that simple fact. What he does instead is to close their proximity and hold her from behind, caressing the smooth, exposed skin of her stomach while he's at it.
"Give me my shirt back, dearest," he pleads, bending down to inhale the smell of her hair. Yuuko leans back into his chest and brings up a hand to trace the shape of his earlobe, then draws a line from his jaw to his neck.
"Say the magic words," she whispers, her lips now dangerously close to his own.
"Please?"
"No," Yuuko counters, her hand now mussing up his hair.
"You look beautiful," Clow tests. He knows that won't do but it doesn't hurt to say it.
Yuuko laughs, and the sound is so husky and sweet it sends warm, pleasant shivers down Clow's spine. "Nice try, but no."
"Hmmm," Clow contemplates, nuzzling her neck now. "How about: 'I'll go make you breakfast'?"
"There you go," Yuuko says, and finally pulls him down for a kiss. The shirt is already half off of her when their lips part, and her eyes are sparkling with the kind of danger that he loves when she turns around in his arms.
"Then again," she muses, planting a soft peck on the corner of his mouth, "we could get another kind of breakfast."
"That could be arranged as well," he nods, and brings his lips to hers once more, his rumpled shirt now lay forgotten on the floor.