Waking Moments
This was the sort of morning that made you want to stay in bed all day with your lover.
I roll around in the sheets with my eyes closed.
I wish I had that luxury. I have no problems getting people to stay the night.
But it gets so lonely in the morning when they are gone.
The soft scent lingers on the sheets. It is your scent..
I open my eyes and see nothing but fabric.
The sunlight streaming from the window makes it seem like a surreal dream.
Your skin.. your smell. Your warmth. You are so much better than the sun in the morning.
I can't ever forget how it felt to touch you. Your slender hips, your moist lips, and those piercing green eyes..
My body trembles at the very memory.
You made me feel so alive last night. The sound of your voice calling my name over and over..
Was it truly love that we made? If it were, wouldn't you still be here, in the morning?
I stretch my limbs.
It is one thing to share a bed with someone.
It is a different thing entirely to wake up next to another.
Oh, for those green jewels to grace my sight the first thing in the morning..
I run my fingers through my bed hair. Where are my clothes..?
The sight of you nude made my heart race. I had never imagined that you would be this daring..
Then again, you'd had some wine. I should not have been surprised.
You were always horribly weak.
But you were so aggressive last night..
I feel the soft touch of my silk pyjamas.
How did you feel, I wonder? Waking up with me next to you.
I would wager.. that you'd have bolted from the bed.
I was always a heavy sleeper.
I wish I had woken up sooner. I might have caught you.
Your sleeping face is something I regret missing.
The silence of the room is a death sentence.
I stand for love, and yet I awaken alone.
This sort of irony shouldn't make me laugh, but it does.
Oh, what I would give for you to be sitting here laughing at me.
Even if it pains me.
You never did take me seriously outside of the battlefield.
Would it be worth it to wage war for you?
I slowly get out of bed.
The room is cold. The floor is cold.
All I feel is cold.
All I see is an empty room. An empty bed that smells of sex.
Sheets awry. Rose petals.
And I smell..
Eggs?
"Oi, Francis, get your ass down here!"
"Coming, Arthur."
Arthur, in the kitchen, making breakfast. The day would start horribly.
But I would not have it any other way.
"About time, you bloody frog."
"Breakfast? Arthur, murder first thing in the morning?"
"If you don't want it, don't eat it."
"One must not waste food, no matter how atrocious. Even on pain of death."
"Fuck you, wanker."
"Je t'aime to you too, Arthur."
...
"But next time, let me do the cooking."
~Fin~
AN: I am like Francis in the morning. Slow to wake, and wishing that there was someone warm next to me.
But Arthur making breakfast is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy..
- czieskara
