His legs are draped across you, as if he hasn't a care in the world. His cheek is squashed against your chest, his mouth open in sleep, his long eyelashes spread over his skin. His fingers trail absentmindedly though your chest-hair. He sniffs, his nose wrinkles, he shuffles and turns over. Now his back is pressed right up against your side like he can't break the body-contact for even a second. You're not used to sleeping all close and cuddled up like this, and you fear it doesn't suit you. Not that he'd let you stop, even if you tried.
XOXOXO
When Steven cooks, he becomes animated in that way that you love and hate in equal measure. He exhausts you sometimes, with his energy. He wants more of everything; more chatter, more enthusiasm for the most menial of things. More sex; even when you've just climaxed. More cooperation, more confirmation; declarations that you love him. You give him all of it, even if it's not natural for you. Even then, he'll find things to kick off about. Sometimes you think he likes the arguing; the fire of it. You catch him smiling sometimes, when he gets you stressed. Cheeky fucker.
XOXOXO
Something has upset him. You can tell by the way his eyes gloss and his smile doesn't reach his eyes the way it usually does. It hurts you that while you've been apart, running separate businesses, some fucker has broken his heart somehow– however small or insignificant. You want to break that fuckers legs, whoever it is, for whatever they said, even if they didn't mean to cause him offence. Steven's quiet about it, but eventually asks you if you think he's stupid. That's a stupid question. You tear his insecurities away with a kiss, which'll soon have him forget.
XOXOXO
In public, the two of you contrast. He's drunk tonight. It makes him more gobby and confident; He rabbits on to Amy and co, while you sit silently, a protective arm draped around the back of his chair. He laughs and spills drink down himself, and glows red. 'I'm dead drunk, aren't I?' He mumbles to you, embarrassed. When ready to leave, he stumbles, and you take his whole weight. He's light as a feather, but you feign disdain. You lay him on the bed, help him undress and end up watching him sleep. But nobody need know about that.
XOXOXO
Sometimes he tries to be sexy for you. It's amusing… not that you tell him that. In reality he's sexiest when he doesn't try; when he's coy, or shy. When his tongue swipes across his lip in anticipation and he tries to cover that he can't take his eyes off you. He lies beneath you, stripped naked by you, waiting, sometimes begging for you. He'll deny that in his more conscious state. His legs fold around you, and he takes you completely in; gives himself wholeheartedly, and tells you he loves you with raw openness that leaves you in awe.