It’s a slow Saturday morning, and Zayne has been blessed with a midday shift, which means there is no rush in his morning routine and you can watch him prepare for the day in the comfort of your bed.
He looks extra handsome today, you think. Sleep still hangs over his eyes, his glasses hastily perched on that ridged nose. Stubble dots along his jaw, the soft angle hidden under morning shadow. You still feel it prickle on your skin from he kissed your shoulders.
Even his pajamas were doing something for you. You kick your feet under the blankets because he just makes you that giddy.
While Zayne prepares his razor for his morning shave, he turns his face this way and that, observing himself in the mirror.
“I think I’ve gained some weight,” he says, tone neutral.
You blink in surprise, tugged out of your love-stricken stupor by the sudden statement. When he swipes through the shaving cream rubbed onto his jaw, you see that the prominent line has softened some.
When Zayne reaches over to grab a towel, you see pale skin peek out from the bottom of his white t-shirt. A bit of belly greets you, and his happy trail invites your gaze lower.
You haven’t really noticed it, because his routine never changes. A morning run every day, and an hour gym session three times per week. It compensates for how often he eats take out in a time crunch and the macaron stash hidden in the second drawer of his desk (where he thinks you don’t know).
But now that he brought it up, he has all of your attention.
His shirt is a little more filled out than usual, and maybe you can see the outline of his thighs under the pajama pants. His arms look bulky, strong, all thanks to him insisting on pull-ups as a workout staple.
“Is that bad?” you ask, though you already know your answer.
Definitely, one-hundred percent, not bad in the slightest.
“No,” Zayne chuckles, and you realize that his eyes are already on you. You shift around in the bed, warm and inviting. “It’s normal with age.”
Zayne finishes his shave with time to spare, wiping the excess water and cream from his face, and takes his time lumbering back to your bed. You lean up, reaching out toward him, waiting for him to meet you in the middle, which he always does.
Your arms wrap around his middle. Your wandering hands don’t hesitate to hike his shirt up to feel the soft skin underneath. “Then why bring it up?”
Your hands run over his stomach, down to his hips, around the front tie of his pants. In return, he tugs off his shirt, letting you drink in his body with new eyes.
His smile is smug when you pepper his bare skin with kisses. “I thought you’d like to know.”
