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The sun peeks through the curtains, and Corbeau turns to hide his face, only to realize that, instead of a pillow, he’s laying on a broad, hairy chest. Warm and soft, deep, steady breaths. He props his chin on that chest and blinks up at Philippe, smiling at his sleeping face. He looks so relaxed—younger, even—with his eyes shut, lips slightly parted, heavy brow unfurrowed. It’s not the first time he’s woken up in bed with Philippe, far from it, but it is the first time he’s woken up in bed with Philippe after they had mind-blowing sex the night before.
As if reminded by the memory to be achy, his legs and back throb, and he groans quietly. Worth it. So completely worth it. A little soreness in exchange for that connection, that act that neither of them crave unless the person is very special—and there is no one more special to them than each other.
It took them so long to get here. More than a decade of knowing each other, watching each other’s backs after watching their own, finally joining hands in the goal of bettering their city, together. How long after the alliance did it take them to truly trust each other? To care for each other? Not very long at all, surely. How long until their lives became so entwined that they couldn’t imagine a single day without the other?
He rests his cheek on Philippe’s chest and sighs happily, lulled by the warmth and softness and slow, strong beat of his beloved’s heart. He could stay like that forever. Would, were it not for their many lovingly-shouldered responsibilities—and the sudden growl of his stomach.
As if summoned by the announcement of his boss’ hunger, Philippe stirs, breathing deep and blinking several times before smiling sleepily and hugging him tighter.
“Mornin’, Beau.”
His already deep voice, rough with sleep and vibrating through Corbeau’s whole body, makes Corbeau shiver and smile.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
Philippe slides one big, warm hand up his back and neck to pet through his hair. He readily leans into the gentle touches.
“Have you been awake long?”
“No, just a little while. Just…enjoyin’ the glow.”
“Glow?” Philippe sits up against the headboard, pulling Corbeau with him. Corbeau grunts quietly, and Philippe stills, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” Corbeau pats his arm fondly.
“Better than alright, Big Guy. Just a little sore after last night’s vigorous performance…” He grins, eyebrows raised, thrilled when Philippe blushes.
“Oh. Well…I’m glad you’re…good. Though I don’t like that you’re sore. Maybe a bath and a massage are in order.” Corbeau’s stomach growls again, and Philippe smiles brighter than the sun. “After breakfast, of course.”
“You’re too good to me,” Corbeau murmurs, sitting up to rest his forehead against Philippe’s. Philippe cups his cheek and brushes their noses together.
“Not possible, Beau.”
They share a few soft kisses, then Philippe scoops Corbeau up and carefully sits him on the edge of the bed so he can stand and stretch. Corbeau can’t help but stare, hunger and pain temporarily forgotten in the wake of Philippe’s gorgeous back, and the ass that fills even the loosest of sweatpants. He bites his lip, thoughts running a little wild. Maybe…maybe unearthing the box of things that sounded more fun online would be a good idea. If he asks Philippe, they could go through it together, find their own fun, actually get his money’s worth for top-of-the-line toys he’d barely used…
“—eat?”
“Hm?” Corbeau straightens up, blinking. Philippe shakes his head fondly.
“I asked what you wanna eat, Boss.”
You.
“Sorry, uh. Something simple. I’m looking forward to that massage...”
Philippe grins.
“Great. I picked up some new massage oils recently, so it’ll be a real treat. You can check ‘em out while I put breakfast together.”
Corbeau pulls on Philippe’s abandoned shirt, fixes his glasses, and eagerly follows him out of the bedroom for a long, loving day together.