The morning after waking up is slow, Sleepy and foggy. It takes a moment to remember yourself. You're Jayne Hart, detective, special cases, and you're in bed. You look over and see your partner, now in more ways than one, sleeping like the dead. His red hair splayed everywhere like a growing fire. His forehead still retains a hint of the sheen of sweat that made him look so beautiful last night.
Your hand flails half hazard over the side of the bed to turn off the alarm that's blaring "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy". Dog tired, you sit up, feeling the residue from your night deep down in your bones and all over your skin. Scratch marks run up and down your back. Scratch marks from nails, his nails, running perpendicularly to the many stab marks that also lie there. Puckered and pinkish semi circles where his nails dug into your forearms, a bite mark on your shoulder from when he came.
He has marks too, marks from grasping hands and marks from sucking on the sensitive spot on his neck, and marks from love. There are marks everywhere, marks from you, marks from him; red spots all over your chest and shoulders from rough nips, marks on his thighs from your hands gripping him tight. Your hand runs through your hair, feeling the lingering moisture from, sex, sweat, love.
You sit for a long minute, just feeling everything. Thin arms grasp you from behind around the shoulders and a kiss is delivered to the underside of your jaw. Hands run down your chest sensually, a request is whispered softly. You'd love to comply, but you have work to do and coming in late isn't an option, you tell him so. He reluctantly lets go and crawls out of bed. You turn to let your feet hit the floor. Another long minute is spent trying to finish waking up. Soon you are dressed and driving to work. Hanna has something to check out today, and it's just as well. You know when you come home he'll be there, happy to see you and you'll both wake up with marks the next morning. The most prominent and permanent would his personal favorite mark, the one he's so proud of. His name tattooed onto your heart. And you have to say, you muse as you drive up to the station that it's your favorite too.