Spamano: Mornings

The early light shone through the blinds into a spacious master bedroom, making stripes of gold across a snow-colored mattress. The clock dimly read 10:21 am, but in the bright light, the digital numbers were faded, unimportant. The room had a lazy feel to it, as if the flood of buttery sunshine was actually tangible, hindering movement.

The bed held two dozing bodies. The larger one, a tanned, finely muscled Spanish man, lay curled loosely on his side, hands around the smaller man's waist. The latter had chestnut hair, and a single stray curl that rose and fell as he breathed. Every once in a while, he would roll irritably in his sleep and press himself closer into the Spaniard.

"Ahh…"

Antonio yawned, opening his eyes to the morning. He dimly thought that he must have overslept a little, but he hadn't much to do anyways. And he was so comfortable…

He looked down at the man in his arms and smiled. Lovino smelled like everything he loved: the tomatoes he ate constantly, the grass from the garden, the shampoo he used, the detergent that Antonio washed his clothes with. Antonio leaned down and buried his face in Lovino's hair. He inhaled deeply and sighed. They should get up. But the moment was too comfortable. Antonio let himself sink in and savor it.

"Lovi…" he said softly.

"What, bastard?" Lovino said, relaxed, not opening his eyes.

"Want me to make you breakfast?"

"No."

Antonio propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Lovino, stroking strands of hair from his cheek with a gentle thumb. "No?"

"If you get out of this fucking bed, I swear I will kill you." Lovino's eyes remained closed. He rolled over so that he was on his back, facing the ceiling.

"Mmm…" Antonio murmured. He inclined his neck and placed a soft kiss on Lovino's nose.

A crimson blush materialized on Lovino's cheeks, but he didn't react.

"Loviiii…"

"What, bastard?"

Antonio pressed his lips to Lovino's face again, once on each of the red spots that were slowly enlarging. "Wake up…"

"No." He grabbed Antonio's arm and pulled himself closer to the Spaniard. "Why so anxious to get me out of bed, bastard?"

"We can't stay here all day," Antonio said quietly, smiling.

"Why not?"

Antonio's heart fluttered. He tilted Lovino's chin up and kissed him slowly, his mouth lingering on the Italian's bottom lip.

Upon release, Lovino let out a content sigh.

Antonio made no more attempts to leave the bed. Instead he settled down into his pillows and examined the man he called his amor. He didn't try to put his thoughts to words anymore; he'd found that when it came to his Lovi, the sweet silence between articulations sometimes was more savory that the conversation itself.

Silently, he pulled the Italian closer to him. He pushed the covers lower and began to trace the gentle lines of the muscles on Lovino's chest with his fingertips. Lovino's body was completely relaxed, without an ounce of tension. His face almost had a vulnerable look to it, a look that made Antonio ache. Every few minutes, Lovino would pull the Spaniard's chin to his mouth and kiss him, a slow, needy kiss that made both of them tingle. Before long they were entangled in each other under the sheets, quietly inhaling each other's breath.

Antonio urged Lovino's face towards his so that their foreheads were pressed together. "Five more minutes," he said

"Ten."

Antonio laughed and pulled Lovino's lips against his once more.