#johnny cudding

Mornings with Johnny were something I'd never tire of. The sun usually woke us both early but never fully. In the soft glow of the early light, there were bleary eyes, gentle caresses, lazy kisses, and sleepy smiles as we basked in each other's warmth. Today was no exception.

Only today we didn't have to get up at all.

Lips brushing gently over the back of my neck and shoulders had my eyes fluttering open just slightly, and I sighed contentedly at the touch. I turned in his arms and snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Mornin’,” I mumbled against his skin even as I felt myself edging closer to slumber again. He said something back, probably a good morning, so quiet I could only tell by the rumbling of his chest. I didn’t bother to ask what it was.

His fingers traced lazily up my spine, my skin tingling in their wake, and I sighed out softly, content. Pulling me closer, he pressed his face into my hair and inhaled. I smiled, often doing the same thing to him. He smelled like home to me, and I knew what a comfort that was.

The soft, gentle touches were simultaneously drawing me back to sleep and waking up my senses, and while I waited to see which impulse would win, I pressed barely-there kisses along his chest, working my way slowly up to his neck. Wakefulness finally began to triumph.

I tilted my head up, eyes opening just a little as my hand reached up to brush through his hair. Our eyes met for a minute, and a sleepy smile graced his lips a moment before I let my eyelids droop again.

Breath ghosted over my lips, and I shifted to press them against Johnny’s, the kiss half-hearted but full of affection. We both lingered there, breathing each other’s air, absorbing each other’s warmth, smiling at nothing.

Eventually, I tucked my head back into his chest and tangled our legs together as he hugged me closer in response. Mornings like this were something sacred, something we took care to draw out and savour.