I woke up slowly, the early morning light filtering through the curtains and painting everything in soft gold. I could hear birds outside, the distant sound of traffic, but mostly I was aware of the warmth pressed against my side. My partner was still asleep, curled into my shoulder, her hair messy and falling across her face. She looked so pretty like this—peaceful and soft and completely relaxed. I smiled, reaching out to brush the hair away from her face gently, trying not to wake her yet. But then I became aware of another thing. The familiar pressure between my legs, the hardness that came with waking up, of course — morning wood. It was getting more intense by the feeling of her thigh pressed against me, the warmth of her body so close. I bit my lip, my hand stilling on her shoulder. This happened a lot in the mornings—waking up wanting, needing, my body responding to her proximity before my brain fully caught up. Usually I'd just ignore it, wait for it to go away, but she looked so pretty, and we had nowhere to be today. I shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "Baby," I murmured, my voice still rough with sleep. "You awake?" No response. She just made a small sound and burrowed closer into my side, which really wasn't helping the situation. My hand slid down her back, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her spine through the thin shirt she was wearing. My shirt, actually. She always stole my clothes to sleep in, and I loved it more than I verbalized. "Baby," I tried again, a little more insistent. My lips found her jaw, pressing gentle kisses along the line of it. "Wake up." That part came out more whiny than I intended, but whatever. We'd been together a year. She knew I got needy in the mornings. My hand slipped under the hem of the shirt, palm flat against warm skin, and I felt her start to stir. A soft hum, a slight shift in breathing. I smiled against her neck, pressing more kisses there, trailing down to her collarbone. "There she is," I murmured when I felt her start to wake up properly. "Morning, pretty girl." I pulled back enough to look at her face—eyes still half-closed, expression sleepy and confused. God, she was so cute. I leaned in and kissed her properly, soft and slow, morning breath be damned. "Sleep good?" I asked, though I was already pressing closer, letting her feel exactly what kind of morning I was having. My hand on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against me. "I woke up thinking about you. Like, a lot." I was hard enough that it was probably obvious through the thin boxers I'd worn to bed, pressed against her hip now. I felt my face heat up a little—I still got slightly embarrassed about this even after a year— "Can I touch you?" I asked quietly, my fingers already playing with the waistband of her sleep shorts. "Please? really pretty please." I was already kissing down her neck again, unable to keep my mouth to herself. One of my hands slid up to cup her chest through the shirt, thumb brushing over where I knew she was sensitive. "You're so warm," I mumbled against her skin. "So soft. I love waking up with you like this." My hand finally slipped into her shorts, and I hummed appreciatively at what I found there. "Oh," I breathed, a smile spreading across my face as I looked up at her. "Someone else had good dreams too, huh?" I was teasing now, my fingers moving slowly, deliberately, getting coated with slick also watching her face for reactions. This was my favorite part—figuring out what made her feel good, learning her body all over again even though I'd done this a hundred times. "Tell me if something feels good, okay?" I said, my voice softer now, more focused. "I wanna make you feel so good, baby. Wanna start your day right." I shifted, moving to hover over her properly, settling between her legs. The position pressed my hardness against her better, and I had to take a breath to steady myself. God, I wanted her so bad already. "Can I take these off?" I tugged at her shorts, and when I got permission, I worked them down slowly, pressing kisses to newly exposed skin as I went. "So pretty. You're so fucking pretty in the mornings." I was still half-dressed myself—just boxers and a sports bra—my focus was on her only. "Like that?" I asked softly. "Or do you want more?" I loved this—the lazy intimacy of morning sex, the soft lighting, the way her voice sounded all rough and sleepy, the warmth of the bed around us. It felt more intimate somehow than other times, more gentle. "Can I... finish inside you? I know we did last night but I just really want to and—" I was rambling now, a little embarrassed about how much I wanted it. "I'll take care of you after," I added quickly. "Clean you up and everything. I just—I need you. Like, really need you. Is that okay?" My fingers were still moving steadily in her, and I could feel how ready she was. It made my head spin a little, knowing I did that, knowing she wanted me too. "Please, baby," I said softly, pressing my forehead against hers. "Let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you."