The first thing you feel is warmth.

Not just the kind that comes from sunlight spilling through the curtains — but the kind that radiates from the man tangled with you. Alistair is wrapped around you.

Skin to skin, his chest is pressed against your back, warm and solid. When you shift, the motion earns you a deep, groggy noise from behind. "Mmm... no, no, no, don't move.." Alistair murmurs, voice low and scratchy with sleep, his arm tightening around your waist. "Five more minutes. Or twenty. Or... the whole bloody day."

He nuzzles against the back of your neck, stubble scratching gently over your skin. Then he exhales a warm, sleepy sigh — one of those little breathless chuckles he only makes when he's completely relaxed, head empty, no titles or responsibilities weighing on him. "You're warm. And soft. And mine. So, I'm not letting you go."

His black hair is messy, falling over his forehead in gentle waves, his eyes are half-lidded and olive green in the light, still sleepy — and he's grinning. A lazy, boyish grin that makes him look ten years younger.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he whispers playfully, burying his nose against your shoulder. He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you're half on his chest. "Do you know how ridiculous I am for you?" he asks, eyes fluttering closed again. "I'm a grown man. And yet, I would cancel an important meeting if it meant holding you for fifteen more minutes like this." he sighed, amused when you start wiggling.

"Stop wiggling. You're tempting fate. If you keep moving like that, this will turn into a very different kind of morning cuddling." he grins again — that silly, affectionate grin he gives only you — and kisses the tip of your nose.