Sunday Morning
Her soft and steady breathing was pressed against my body, like waves gently lapping against sand. She's curled in a ball, filling the distance of the cold sheets between me and her. I let her warmth envelope my lips, the tips of my fingertips and my eyes that could only see the dark before I quietly get up from our bed.
The carpet beneath my feet and air around the room felt ice cold. "The sun mustn't have risen yet." I thought. "I ought to cook something warm for breakfast today. A sausage potato hash and egg or a simple chicken congee perhaps?" My mind started to flip through the numerous recipes in my head as I carefully made my way towards the closet. I felt for the shirt hanging from the closet handles and threw it on. My wife never forgets to leave a shirt for me to put on upon waking up but never fails to forget to turn on the heater of the bedroom before sleeping. After I've changed and ready to go to bed last night, I felt my wife wrapped in our blankets like a hot dog in the freezing cold of our bedroom. Waking her up to get a piece of that cozy covers would be like waking a bear from hibernation and asking it to murder you.
Yeah, she's scary. A woman who possesses such beauty and amazing character must have at least one setback. It came with the package and I don't feel the need to complain.
I didn't bother to turn on the heater but instead, I wrapped my arms around my sleeping hot dog wife and found slumber easily, her gentle breathing serving as my fireplace.
This morning, it wasn't a surprise that I found myself wrapped in our covers finally. She may be selfish at first, but she gives in to her poor blind husband at the end of the day anyway.
As stealthily as I could, I made my way to our kitchen and softly closed the door behind me. Being without sight, I relied heavily on my remaining senses to feel my way around the house – the ticking of the clock and temperature tells me which room is whose, the feel of the floor beneath my feet tells me which part of the house I'm in, and the smell of the house tells me if my wife or kids had managed to burn something in the kitchen and the like. Living in the same house for 9 years though, it felt like I've managed to get back my sight somehow. I could picture the layout of each and crevices of my home - The king size bed nestling in the middle of my room; The smooth marbled countertops of our kitchen that my wife said were the colors of silver and white, like her hair; The patio with its stone tables and wooden chairs which we use to dine on when it's not too cold outside or if the kids have finished their homework and wanted to just hang around underneath the starry night.
It made me felt like I was old myself again, minus the tragedy that has engulfed my life in the past.
I could imagine the ground coffee gently sliding against the snow white paper filter like a sand dial as I carefully prepare our coffee. Of course, there's no other coffee in the world I would have let my lips fell upon on other than Ebony. My wife loves hazelnut on hers, which we've always argued about. How could she let the pure richness of Ebony be tampered upon by another flavour?! It would remain a mystery to me no matter how much she justifies her love for hazelnut.
I poured a touch of milk on her coffee and mine, just the pure glory of Ebony, unhampered and pure, before I took out coffee mugs to our breakfast nook.
Our small breakfast nook was located in the corner of our kitchen, looking out through a big window that oversees the patio. It has cushioned bench that hugs the corners of the small space with soft pastel colored pillows that my kids plays with and my wife used to use as support for her back when she was pregnant. More importantly though, we have a sturdy wood table and two chairs with cushioned seats facing the window; my wife and I always take this seat even though there's only the two us in the kitchen in the morning.
"Good morning." The sleepy voice of my wife filled the quiet kitchen as I heard her unsteadily made her way to my direction, "Coffee is ready too, I see."
"Yes. Which means I -."
"You've managed to beat me again!" she sighed as she grabs her coffee from my hands. "This month!"
I let a smile spread across my face as a reply to this. I know it would irritate her further every time I did so. She let out a tired sigh as she said, "How do you manage to do that? You came home late last night and yet, you managed to wake up ahead before me."
"You're tired, love." I simply replied. "I'm pretty sure the kids refused to eat your cooking last night."
"God! You have no idea how frustrating it is for your food to be rejected. It would be a big help if you could just cook up a bunch which I could reheat later during feeding time. Saves me the stress, you know"
Thoughts of Noct unexpectedly filled my mind. I could remember vividly the numerous attempts I made in order to get him to eat his greens. I didn't imagine I would have to do the same for somebody else ever again.
"Drink up before the coffee gets cold." I managed to say before my throat tightened. I could feel her eyes on me, perhaps worried with the change of expression on my face. She placed her warm hands on my face and gently stroked cheeks.
Moments like this with her made me think if I deserve to find such happiness after failing to save Noct. How could I have been given the chance to be happy and loved when I cannot forever see the one person I wanted to be happy experience the same?
My wife took a sip from her coffee and exhaling softly after finishing her gulp. I heard her quickly lick her lips which made my cheeks warm. "Do you still remember the first time you took me to your apartment?" she suddenly asked, my mind still lingering on the image of her soft cherry lips and thoughts of Noct.
"Of…course, I do." I said, caught a bit off guard. "You found me alone in a bench in a park, feeding pigeons." I added as memories of that day chased away the sadness but not the temptation I feel to kiss my wife right at this very moment.
"Yeah, like most blind people do." She chuckled. "I brought myself into your doorstep, insisting that you needed guidance going home."
"Which I actually didn't." I finished. I smiled at the thought of that first time I brought her over. Nothing happened. We just sat and drank coffee and chatted, talking about the good times and first impressions. The second time, we had coffee and chatted and had dinner and talked about our jobs and trivial matters. The third until the thirtieth time, we did the same coffee, chat and dinner routine, except that we started talking about ourselves, our pains and our future and I was falling in love with her. And on the first day of November, I finally mustered to courage to ask permission to kiss her. "Never thought you'd ask." She said that day. Ever since then, she's been coming home to my apartment until the day we had our first child.
We were both laughing and reminiscing our days after the long night as we drank the coffee in the spreading dawning light. I could imagine the sunlight striking her silver hair, making it shimmer like the light on the ocean's surface – beautiful and breathtaking.
"You know what? It's only 6:15 which means…" she said as she finished her coffee.
"We've got time." I added, the knot in my throat finally loosened.
When I heard her placed her coffee cup down the table, I lifted her up and placed her in my lap facing me, no longer able to hold myself back. She kissed me softly first, her hands draping around my neck. I pulled her body towards me closer, tracing her face, her nose, her soft lips, the curves of her neck and breast, the gentle slope of her back, and her firm thighs with my hands. If there's anything I am grateful for when I lost my sight, it was the privilege to relish every corner and crevice of my wife's body. The only reason I would trade anything to get my sight back again is to wake up and see my beautiful emerald-eyed and silver-haired wife sleeping serenely next to me.
It doesn't matter though. I have her breath filling me up every morning I wake up.
She let a small moan as I lift her night gown and continued to explore between her thighs. I wanted so much to slip her underwear off but we have a rule in the kitchen - no playing around because of the risk the kids might catch us red-handed or break something fragile.
I stopped and heard her let out a long and gentle exhale, her chest rising and falling quickly against mine. "The kids might wake up any moment now." I whispered, catching my breath.
"It's a Sunday today." She replied breathlessly. She kissed me again, opening her mouth when she felt my tongue begging to be let in. I explored her further, feeling every corner of her mouth with my tongue as much as I can before I ran out of breath. When I pulled away, I felt some sharp and tingling pain on my nape.
"Sorry." She said. "My fingers dug too much because I wanted you closer."
"We could be closer than this?" I raised my eyebrows as my hands began to stroke both her breast gently. She let out a small moan as she threw her head back, her hands on my hair.
"Please let me." She begged between moans.
I took off her nightgown, impatience finally taking over me. I kissed her bare breast, its corner and began stroking it between my fingers. I heard her catch her breath, her moans getting louder. She pulled away and her head resting on my shoulders after a while and said, "My turn."
She slowly started by kissing my neck first, then her hands gently stroking my back and then she slipped her fingers between my thighs. I tried not to moan too loud as not to wake our children up and so, I tried muffling it by kissing her with my tongue.
By this time, it's a test of endurance. Who will break the rules first? It was always her who does so, but I can't guarantee it this time.
"We have to go to the bed-"before she could finish, I slipped my hands again between her thighs while pulling her into my mouth again. I could feel it coming now. Just a little more.
"Please, Ignis" She pleaded. "Looks like she'll be the first to surrender again." I triumphantly thought. Before I could stop myself, I pulled her panties off her legs and lifted her up to the kitchen countertop, ignoring the fact that I might have knocked the coffee mugs out of the table or anything atop the kitchen countertop at the moment.
"The rules-" My tongue between her thighs had cut her off from finishing her sentence. I went around and went in as my wife tried her best not to moan too loud, hearing her fingernails dig on the sides of the countertop. When I pulled away to catch my breath, I could hear my wife breathing sharply.
"Not fair." She said breathlessly. "You won't let me –"
"Just not quite over yet." I cut her off as I lifted her off the kitchen countertop. She wrapped her leg around my waist as I carried her into the bedroom in haste. She kicked the door shut behind us with her legs and as I lay her down on the bed, she said with a smile, "You broke the rules this round."
She grabbed the bands of my pajamas and pulled it down as I was making my way towards her. I felt her open her legs, the sweet honey between her thighs once again welcoming me to explore inside her. At first, it was gentle, the second lesser, the third time, impatience has taken again. I went in deeply each time and faster, her moan louder getting louder with each. By the time I felt it came, in which I've lost count of how many and felt her body shivered a bit, she finally whispered, "I love you." in my ear.
"I love you most." I whispered back as I went in slow this time, her moans filling me as she pulls me closer and deeper into her.
"Sunday mornings are the best." She finally managed to say between her breaths and moans.
"You don't say –," I was about to say something witty and funny in reply but her lips cut me off and she kissed me deeply, telling me that she's ready for another before the kids wake up.