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Coastal breeze leaked into the bedroom, wisping the white curtains in east direction. The brim of a new day was just about to begin. It whispered and weaved through the room, welcoming the warm morning. The buzz of them both, hushed breathing from their bodies.
Dennis squirmed, a nauseous pit forming in his stomach. His head spun, twinges buzzing in his skull. He grunted, readjusting on his arm. Everything, all his muscles ached. Blankets were hot and sheets were stuck to his bare arms.
This feeling is no unordinary to him. All too well, he knew this. He did this. How so good in the moment before, could have consequences in the morning.
Shifting his weight, uncomfortable, the mattress sunk under his weight.
6:45. The sultry light of the rising sun fazed his eyes.
“Oh, fuck me.” Dennis gaped, narrowing his sight. His hair entangled to his skin,
I could have made it at least two more hours. His lips lay agape, his ears roared with bloodrush, inconsistant mumbles growled in his throat.
He turned to the woman still in slumber, his beautiful wife, Karen. He rocked to the side, bared teeth as he groaned.
Her skin, smooth and Hollywood perfect, the redness with her full lips, neutral, yet peaceful and content with sleep. Hair, silk to the touch, blonde and radiant in the cream color of the morning. He still managed a smile with her.
Shifting to meet her gaze, the unopened eyes of her, he mumbled out her name.
“Kari?”
She fluttered awake, struggled blinks.
“Denny, baby,” A weary tone echoed. “You look a mess. How many bottles did you have last night?” He pressed his lips together, a thin line of skepticism formed across them.
“Mmm, that's a good question.” His hands drop to the sheets, trailing lines along the thin material, buffering folds.
Karen’s eyebrows raised, her face not wearing from stern. It kicked in, the hangover. It was so apparent and he couldn’t hide.
She saw it. Damn it. The obviousness of his hangover was clear to his wife, as it was all those times back.
His hand drew to the back of his neck. “Can’t remember, to be fair.” Her eyes lock to his tired face, drained of light and energy. Sulking of his eyes, baby blue. His clothes were stuck and bedamped with sweat.
Karen’s fingers weave to fix the creases in the lapel in his shirt. If there was one thing that could bring him stability, it was taking things slow.
She leans to her elbow, taking in his face. Yet so handsome. Karen gives him a pleasant look, fixing her face. Warm, welcome, and bright.
“You think we should get up?” Karen tilted her head, breaking silence.
Mumbles of confusion. More protest of staying in bed. That’s what she heard anyway.
“No, please, little longer, Kari?” Not having it. Whining wasn’t normal, well mostly was. The amount of hangovers Dennis would put himself through were agonizing.
Karen rose from her spot, her eyes squinting to the rays of rising outside. Stars become faint into the night, along with the moon. The fading sound of bugs and the inning of birds, twitch into her ears.
More moans of protest, less making sense. She slid out of bed, smoothing out her nightgown, stretching her arms.
“Come now, Dennis.” She urges, cooing her voice. “You want to start this day productive, right?” Karen leans down, brushing his hair behind his ear. His head flops to the bed, not long before she can lift his chin. His eyes are lidded, the rundown look in them. Dark hazel eyes - obscured - meet hers, soft and blue.
“Babe, don’t do this.” A long sigh protrudes from her mouth.
“You could make this easier for yourself if you did.”
Physical resistance was to Dennis’ advantage, he held himself down for a while. Karen was more familiar with his tone, just that aggression and full commitment made him all the more stronger. She grasps at his wrist, fingers sliding around the bumps of veins and muscles.
“I’ll run you a bath,” She teased. The smile that curved on Dennis was irresistible. “Get you all settled, eh?”
“Fine, fine.” He chuckles, a grin flashing at her. Karen’s hand pulls him from their bed, and hers laces to his fingers.
I bet he just wants to see my tits. I know him all too well.
Slow but steady, getting his sick self to his feet, she leads him to the bathroom. He seemed to carry himself quite well, taking weight to his legs and following Karen.
This house was almost like a maze. Twists and turns just for the bathroom.
She would stop and wonder that if Dennis was really “cool and hip” would he at least get a smaller house? Good lord.
She looks back at him, Dennis’ breath halters, his mouth, open, turns to a smile.
“You know,” he says, panting. Just a hangover can do that to a poor man. They had barely maneuvered any large ways. So why is he acting like a drama queen? He doesn't do that hungover. Karen lets a “hm” slip from her throat.
“You help me do this a lot. Get my ass out of bed every morning.” His hand is tightly fixed to her wrist.
There he is, my Dennis.
She giggles, pulling him closer to adjust her arm. “Now I’d like to believe you didn't have a lot, yeah? If you're talkin’ like this.”
“Still not sure, babe.”
Twisting the faucet, Karen inches it barely, making sure the water was warm. She dips her fingers in, small ripples coinciding from them.
She turns around to see her husband fidgeting with his buttons, Glides over to help, her nimble hands threading through the slips. She watches, quick not to get flushed, Dennis’ shirt pools to his waist, then falls to the ground in a heap.
Now wasn't the time, however every bump and muscle felt calling to her.
The golden tan that tinged his skin was glossed in light. Hair dotted over his chest, and trailed down to his v-line. Admirance, up and down. His arms were toned, all from that work on drums. Everything. It was oh so often she got to see him with his shirt off, he’d take it off all the time. She had no reason to gawk at him now, especially with so many chances. Resisting the urge to just throw herself on her obviously tired and aching hisband, she brought her eyes up to his facial features.
The mess of his hair and his look had brought it together.
She liked whatever the fuck he had done with his hair either way, the waves of sandy golden hair, frizzed and fluffed, pressed to his skin in a waiting sweat. All tied to his well face, which was now knackered and wearied from last night's antics.