Author: Sybella
Title: Freshly Ground Heaven
Character/Pairings: Everything is fair game.
Summary: Spanning time, distances and heartbreaks. Our favorite New Yorkers contemplate life, love and sex over a cup of coffee.
Disclaimer: All the characters are the property of the CW and Cecily. This is merely my own wild imagination.
I like my coffee like my women: hot, strong, steamy.
"Princess," he whispers and her eye lashes flutter like drowsy butterflies against the apples of her cheeks, "Did Snow White need a kiss to wake her?"
She groans and turns her back to him, silk sheets following the twist of her body. Since she offers no suitable response, he tugs her towards him and drops his lips to her own, smirking when she moans her body's instantaneous response.
"Breakfast in bed?" he murmurs, because it is, after all, his fault that she's so tired. His lips curve triumphant when he thinks of the last night, her nails digging into his shoulders, raking through his hair, head thrown back in wild abandon and it had been far too long since the last time they did this.
Too long to stop before the sun came up.
She nods against his chest, sighing sleepily as he pulls away and her head falls back amidst the white throw pillows. He's talking into the receiver, softly and her mind's slipping back into sleep so she can't hear a word.
It works though, because ten minutes later there's a knock at the door and a long trolley is wheeled in. He pours her an espresso himself, dark eyes glinting wickedly as he serves her, an array of smells hitting her at once. Peaches, she thinks, her tiny nose scrunched to sniff, and the pancakes she knows he adores. She accepts the caffeine with an almost reluctance that makes him grin even wider.
She looks up at him, sharply with the very first sip because she can taste something in her coffee, something he could never have known to add but- there! She slurps again, there it is.
A napkin is raised to her lips, delicately wiping away at the corners and she places the cup on the night stand very, very carefully, before lunging forward to meet his mouth.
Juan takes a hint and leaves, the laden trolley standing right where it is, two feet from the bed.
Their tongues dance, mingle and his hands slip under the sheets, just as she pulls back.
"How did you know?" she breathes against his lips, her face soft with naked delight.
"I could taste it in your mouth when you kissed me." He smiles and runs a hand through her disheveled curls.
"Honey."