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Miles swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wiping sleep from his eyes and scanning the floor for his discarded clothes from the night before. He felt arms snake around his waist from behind him and jumped before his sleep-drugged mind remembered who they belonged to.
“Morning, handsome.” His boyfriend’s sweet voice sang.
Miles only hummed in response, touching his cold fingers to Tristan’s always-warm arms.
“What, cat got your tongue?”
“Mmm.”
Tristan giggled, then repositioned himself to kneel behind Miles, still partially wrapped in his duvet.
“Maybe this’ll help you out,” he teased, placing a light kiss to the side of his neck, and another, and another.
Miles purred again, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling.
“You like quiet mornings?”
“Mhm.”
“You like… soft kisses on your neck?”
“Mhm.”
“You like soft kisses other places?”
“Mhm!” This time, Miles nodded enthusiastically.
“Then why’re you getting up?”
Miles mimed drinking from a glass, still playing the game.
“Well, come back quick enough and you’ll get those kisses,” Tristan enticed.
Miles twisted around and pressed their lips together softly, lingering just a moment longer before removing himself from his boyfriend’s grip to retrieve his boxers.
As he put them on, Tristan watched his face with a smile and added to his mental list of things he loved about Miles. The curve of his back. The way he tried and failed to brush his messy hair out of his eyes. The tiny gap in his right eyebrow. The fact that he turned in the doorway to look at him before he left. He loved it all.
-
When Miles returned, Tristan wasn’t where he had left him.
“Tris?”
“ ’eah?” Came the muffled reply.
Miles made his way to the bathroom where he found Tristan rinsing his toothbrush.
Once Tristan laid eyes on the half empty glass of orange juice in Miles’ hand, his face fell.
“No…” he pleaded.
“Damn it all to hell,” Miles sighed.
-
It took them two and a half minutes until they remembered that Miles, too, owned a toothbrush.