A/N: I'm not going to apologise for my sudden interest in the Jill/Wesker pairing or writing this bit of fluff. XD
The early hours of the morning, barely light outside, and this was the time Jill's body demanded coffee. She carefully sat up on her side of the bed, pushing the duvet cover aside, then clambered off and padded towards the kitchen. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, forcing her into a trot.
Could really do with some slippers. Buying said footwear was always in the back of her mind, but she never managed to actually get around to doing so.
Once the brunette had poured herself a cup, she retreated to her room and paused, taking a moment to listen to the light snoring coming from beneath the duvet. She lifted a portion of it, revealing the male sharing her bed. His limbs were haphazardly spread across the mattress, and she couldn't suppress the smile crawling across her lips.
Sleeps like a kid.
He appeared so serene, oblivious to the world beyond his dreams. His face and the long fingers of his hands occasionally twitched, making her wonder what that beautiful mind imagined.
Hope it isn't a nightmare.
Golden blonde strands hung down his forehead, just about touching closed eyes. She couldn't resist the urge to feel his tousled hair, stretching her hand out and sweeping a few tendrils from his countenance. He fidgeted again, but fortunately didn't stir at her tender touch.
It was amazing to observe the difference in his posture and expression, between being awake and asleep. He looked innocent, vulnerable…
Cute.
Who would have ever thought that about the S.T.A.R.S Captain? Jill often compared him to a black panther – a beautiful and dangerous creature, unless handled properly, stalking the offices with mystery and suave poise.
She crawled back into bed beside him, then dared to shuffle further along, onto his side. When he didn't move, she took it as a sign to continue, and cuddled against his chest, pulling an arm around her. He was a warm, solid and comforting wall. The relaxed, regular beating of his heart and little breath on the top of her head was soothing. Her head leant up and pale blue optics stared into his face – it was hard to believe he was thirty eight years old – and she dared to press a butterfly kiss to his lips…then another, and another, each time increasing the duration and pressure. She enjoyed the flavour of his lips; unable to help herself, she added some tongue.
The brunette's eyes snapped upon, when she realised he was returning the osculation, and could feel his smirk. When they parted, blue stared into sapphire.
"Hey," she whispered.
"What time is it?" Although drowsy, his inquiry possessed the unmistakable tenor of command.
Rolling her eyes, she then took a moment to check the clock on the bedside table. "Almost four thirty."
His reply of a grunt made her chuckle, until he suddenly rolled over, pinning her below his weight. The grin on his countenance reminded her of a shark, but the only chill running down her spine was in eager expectation of his next move. He leant down and covered her mouth with his. She reached her hands up and tickled the blonde tresses dangling around his ears, revelling in its silken feel. Such contact wrenched a purr from deep in his throat, and he buried himself in her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. She defiantly wriggled, so he bit down harder, leaving a mark – but, more importantly, making her cry out in mingled pain and pleasure.
Triumphant and satisfied, he surrendered to mercy and leant up onto his forearms, positioned either side of her head, studying her expression.
The combination of shock and arousal emerged from Jill's vocal chords as a snigger. "Good morning?"
"Now it is."
The End