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Rebecca Welton has always been an early bird. Even from a young age, she had an innate inability to sleep in and this is a trait that continued into adulthood so it really isn’t surprising she is awake long before her alarm is due to go off. This morning it isn’t her body clock that wakes her, instead, it’s the rustling of sheets, her bedmate roused by the sunlight streaming in through open shutters they’d forgotten to close the night before.
“S’early.” Ted grumbles, his voice rough with sleep, a little raspy speaking his first words of the day. “But it’s nice to wake up to such a ray of sunshine I gotta say.”
“Good to see it isn’t raining,” she hums, her own voice a little hoarse. It had poured it down the night before, the pair of them running from the car to her door, soaked to the bone by the time they’d made it into the foyer.
He shifts in her arms, turning to face her in the early morning light. “It is but I wasn’t talking ‘bout that sunshine streaming in,” she smiles at the feeling of his lips pressed to her ear, how he squeezes her waist just a little to emphasise his point just in case she didn’t quite get it.
“My hair is a mess, I probably look like a disarray of sunshine more than anything.”
He huffs out a laugh against her, face splitting into a bright grin at the little pun. A thrill thrums through her, a rush that she’s made him laugh for once with a pun that’s as silly as his own. “I’d like to think I played a part in makin’ it a mess.”
“You did,” she nods, “But I would also blame the rain, my love.”
“Rain in Spain, seems like the sunshine is a real pain,” his voice is muffled as he buries his face into her neck seemingly to avoid the bright sunlight filling the room, his moustache tickling as he trails his lips from her jawline down to her neck.
“I could easily fix that, you know,” she replies, moving to get up, but prevented from doing so by Ted’s arms tightening around her waist, pulling her ever closer to him. There’s barely a millimetre separating them, the two comfortably intertwined and free to be themselves. They have no need for any of the armour they shed on their way up to her room last night.
“Nope, you can’t.” He holds Rebecca close, making her shriek momentarily, the sound dissolving into giggles as he rolls her underneath him, his hands braced, firmly planted on either side of her face. She reaches up, arms settling around his neck, fingers threading together, scratching lightly at the base in the way he just loves so. It’s a spot she found on their second night together, they were still learning each other’s bodies and to find a tender spot to make him hum with contented pleasure.
“I love you, Ted,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss him gently.
He smiles down at her as they part, a lazy easy grin. With the sunlight streaming in, she takes a moment to admire his eyes. Rebecca loves his eyes, the warmth they hold, a mix of hazel and golden hues that burn with an intensity and need she’s sure is mirrored in her own gaze. “I love you too, Rebecca.” He leans down, holding her close, capturing her lips in a much deeper kiss, something hot and needy that left little to the imagination for either of them. She finds herself glad that for once to get to him she doesn’t need to unpeel the many layers of clothing he usually wears, both of them completely bare, a reflection of how they are with one another. In this place, there’s no need for clothing, or declarations of Oklahoma to ensure complete honesty. They are at their most vulnerable, it’s both scary and exciting - a prospect they get to explore for the first time together.
He’s peppering kisses from her lips, tracing a path down her throat tongue darting out to lick where her pulse pounds under his touch. She almost wants to tell him to hurry up, to forego worshipping her body because she’s already keyed up and needing him, but she won’t. He’s just as invested in her pleasure as he is his own, takes what he needs to make them both feel good and doesn’t hurry in his approach. Just like every aspect of their newly blossoming relationship, this is all about having equal footing, there’s no room for fake orgasms or accusations of ‘Randy Rebecca ’ in these walls.
Taking his time, he sucks at her collar bone, fingers pinching at her nipple as she arches in response. She can feel his grin against her skin, moustache brushing against her skin deliciously as he drops down, mouth falling to her breast, teeth tugging gently at her nipple. She’s a mess, core tingling, she scratches at his back with a whimper. Every fibre of her being wants him, is aching for anything he’ll give her.
“More,” she murmurs, the moment he comes up from her breast, leaning up awkwardly to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss. His pupils are blown wide, the weight and intensity of his gaze alone have her on the edge - at first, when they started this she found herself shying away from him, unable to look back at the unbridled love and lust swimming in his eyes. Now she knows the look is mirrored in her own, their want is unparalleled and frankly, she’s never felt so desired by another person in her entire life.
He moves his left hand down her body carefully, fingers stroking along her curves, teasing her, making her squirm with ease. His touch is brief, Rebecca soon arching into his hand as he presses a finger into her, stroking easily, almost checking to see if she’s anything but fucking wet for him.
“Be patient,” he murmurs, shifting down the bed, situating himself between her open legs. Throwing them over his shoulders he kisses her thigh creases, trailing a path towards her cunt where he kisses with open mouthed slurps, tasting her, moaning at the juices escaping from her folds.
“Fucking hell, Ted,” she moans, head thrown back, her hand finding its way into his hair, pulling lightly at the strands, tugging, encouraging him along. She keens when his lips make contact with her clit, legs shuddering as he carefully kisses first, then transitions alternating between little flicks and sucks.
“Jesus,” she breathes, her voice desperate and ragged. She can feel the pleasure tightening in her core starting to swell as he begins to work over her a little faster, harder. She chances a look down at him and he fucking smirks back, coming up, licking two fingers and slipping them in, dragging them lazily against her front wall. “Jesus, fuck-”
“Not Jesus, just Ted,” He jokes, trying to wink since he believes he can do that, it comes out more as a strange sort of blink just as it always does and she barely has a chance to retort, any thoughts cut off by the way his tongue swirls around her clit, his mouth easily matching the rhythm set by his fingers.
It’s a moment, a beat, and her back is arching off the bed, thighs clenching around his head, fingers clawin at his hair as the orgasm breaks over her. Rebecca cries out his name, her whole body trembling in the come down, his mouth works slowly, guiding her through every little aftershock that follows, easing her down to relax into the pillows behind her. He takes a moment, licking his lips and grinning at her like the cat that got the fucking cream.
“Just Ted? Fucking hell, you could never be just Ted,” she grins, taking his face in her hands. Somehow his smile widens, as she pulls him down for a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his lips. She tugs him closer, pulling him in, his knees cracking loudly, popping at the change in position. The sudden interruption has them both breaking out into laughter, falling into fits of giggles at the simple noise reminding them they perhaps are a little too old to be as adventurous as they are with one another. It won’t stop them.
“Are you going to be okay with this?” She asks, gesturing to their current position, him kneeling over her, settling between her legs, tugging her into his lap a little. “Because we can switch it up, if something different is better for your knees?”
“Nope, no,” he manages out, breathing through his teeth at the feel of his cock in her hand. She loves him like this, moaning because of her, panting her name quietly, a mantra spoken as he thrusts slowly against her palm.
She smiles, leaning in to kiss him, swallow his moans, twirling her tongu around his own and tugging him forward, pulling his hips forward, his tip sliding through her folds. She sighs at the feel, throwing her head back in pleasure as he sinks into her, filling her perfectly and bottoming out seamlessly, a move that has them both gasping for air.
“Fuck!”
“Fuck you?” he breathes, the words coming out as little puffs of laughter against her throat. “That’s kinda the plan sweetheart.” The both laugh at that, the word still causing endless amusement and annoyance for its similarity to flans.
He pulls his hips away for a beat and then thrusts back into her, pausing for a moment, hissing at the way she clenches her core around him, testing his patience with a practiced ease. He opens his eyes, hazel amber hues bright with want, eager to please and provide her with all she could ever ask for. She should feel vulnerable, yet she hasn’t in a while, in his arms, her legs wrapped her around his waist like this, Rebecca feels like a goddess.
He picks up the pace, his muscles shifting under her hands as his pace increases, driving harder, faster, each thrust somehow hitting all her spots and making her body thrum with electricity. He’s reaching down, rubbing his thumb gently at her clit.
“There baby, that’s it,” his words are breathy, little pants against her neck that barely register as her mind whites out, back arching in his arms, heels digging into the small of his back at the waves of pleasure that wash over her.
“Fucking hell, fuck Ted,” She manages out, gasping, holding him tightly in her arms. Her body is alive, she clenches around him as the orgasm eases in the comedown, each little aftershock running through her body with every thrust he pushes into her. He plants his feet underneath her, hips pistoning up into her, chasing his own orgasm as another quickly soon begins building in her gut. She holds herself against him, nails digging into his shoulder blades, holding his chest flush against her own.
“”You’re so beautiful.” She pants against his skin, pleasure filling her core. “And so good,” she plants wet messy kisses along his jaw between breathes.
“God, Rebecca,” he chokes out as she gasps again against him, the dam breaking with another smaller orgasm, this one sharper than the rest, a galaxy still flooding her vision with the wonder of all that he makes her feel.
“Fuck,” he manages, voice a little hoarse, “Rebecca,” is his final groan as he empties himself inside her, movements slowing in the comedown. She gets a little thrill whenever he says her name, at home or in the club - here though, this is one of her favourites. The slightly wrecked drawl that indicates a morning well spent in one another’s arms. She hold him through the comedown, kissing his damp brow, pushing back a tendril of hair from his eyes as their breathing evens out.
She’s boneless, barely capable of moving when she tries to disentangle from their tight embrace so they can find more comfortable positions to be in. “Ahh, fucking hell,” she moans, feeling a sharp shooting pain wrap around her calf, interrupting what was a rather blissful come down. “Leg cramp,” she explains to answer his concerned gaze.
Wordlessly he begins applying pressure to the right muscle, stroking down towards the ankle. She whimpers a little at the way his thumbs dig in and find the perfect pressure, working both with equal parts intent and gentleness to bring relief to what’s quickly becoming a long-forgotten pain. “Any better?” He asks, placing her leg back on the bed, massaging her other calf to prevent a similar outcome from occurring in the comedown.
“Much, thank you,” she hums, caressing his cheek in the love-drunk haze they’re both seemingly under the influence of, leaning up to peck his lips. The thanks is for everything and nothing, the pleasure he brings her and the way he fits seamlessly into the little mundane moments of a sunday morning.
“Guess there are some benefits to dating someone with a minor in sports science,” he muses in reply, getting up from the bed and putting on his boxers. “It’s good to keep the muscle warm now so how about you hop in the shower now?”
Rebecca pouts teasingly, sitting with the sheets bunched around her waist. “Is there any way I could persuade you to join me in the shower?”
“Ooh damn you’re tempting, a sweet siren singing me to the shower. I wish I could babydoll, but then who’s gonna get started on breakfast so it’s ready for when you come downstairs?” He grins, leaning down to drop a short kiss on her lips.
“Your loss,” she replies breezily, getting up and walking into the en-suite without a stitch of clothing on. She walks back momentarily after starting the shower whilst she waits for it to warm up. “The bag of things you left at mine last Thursday? Jumpers, pants and joggers - they’re in the central dresser in my wardrobe, second drawer on the left.” She explains, “You know the kitchen can sometimes be a little cold in the morning.”
His face is a picture, open awe and a grin wide enough she’s sure it could split his face. He chokes on a breath, clearly struggling to find the words to convey to her how much this means to him - their relationship is still in its infancy, early days and a move like this would be enough to send anyone running for the hills in most similar circumstances. Not here. With all the baggage they share, the cosmic hands of the universe sending them careening into orbit with one another at the right place and right time, every move is meant to be. She could have easily made room in her wardrobe for him the night after their first date simply because making room for someone after a date is nothing when you’ve spent your whole life waiting for that someone.
“I’ll be making pancakes,” is what he settles for, and Rebecca knows what he means by that. He’s making pancakes and will be making room for her back at his flat the moment he gets home later, even if it is a little redundant since they spend most of the time at hers, it’s the thought that counts.
“Looking forward to it,” she smiles earnestly before finally heading into the shower.
Rebecca tries to make quick work of her morning routine, not wanting to be away from him for longer than necessary when they have the whole day ahead of them and nothing they need to leave the house to do. Tries is the operative word though since it is nigh on impossible to condense a hair wash and 5 stage skincare routine into a window of time shorter than twenty minutes. She’s out of the bathroom as soon as her routine is finished, drying off and dressing in cashmere joggers and a bra, for a moment she considers stealing a t-shirt from Ted’s drawer to ward off the cold of the kitchen but chooses against it. With the stove on now it should have warmed up a little and if it is a little too cold then she knows Ted would be more than willing to swap his undershirt for her silk dressing gown, he always runs hot when he’s cooking so it would really be the perfect swap. It makes sense for her to leave the dressing gown open too, to let him admire the little marks he’s left on her body this morning as he plates up their breakfast, because really every artist deserves a chance to view their masterpiece.
The first thing she notices as she pads downstairs is the stillness of the day, the relative quiet of the house beyond the odd clanging of pans from where Ted is busy away in the kitchen. Rebecca heads into the hustle and bustle only to find the silence continues, the chef too busy focussing on steeping her the perfect cup of tea to realise she’s actually joined him in the kitchen.
“You could have put on some music if you wanted to Ted, you know I don’t mind,” she says by way of greeting, kissing him gently in thanks as he passes her the teacup. And really for a man who abhors tea, he does know how to make the perfect cup every time without fail.
“Left my phone upstairs to charge,” he shrugs, ladling pancake batter into the pan on the stove. There’s nothing to doubt, she knows he’s aware she has an incredible sound system and an Alexa Keeley helped her connect to Spotify account so he has music at his fingertips with or without his phone nearby if he wants it. He doesn’t need it.
Rebecca watches him from where she sits at the kitchen island sipping her tea and his body is relaxed, free of any tension which has plagued him for the last 5 years of his life. His hands are busy but his mind is not, yes she can see he is focused on the task at hand, beyond that he is unoccupied. Open to whatever the day has in store and unafraid to face it just as she is, because anything good or bad they are willing to face together.
“What’re staring at darlin’?” She’s shaken from her pondering by his easy smile. “Do I got something in my moustache? Some coffee foam makin’ me look like a garden gnome?”
“No,” She laughs, placing her tea cup on the counter. “Nothing at all. Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”
“Only once or twice this morning,” he hums, flipping the pancake with ease, “This your way of trying to get extra pancakes, ‘cause you don’t need to butter me up. Save that for the stacks and I’ll give you as many as you like.”
And he means it, he would never say a word about her diet or berate her food choices as Rupert did in the past, instead, happy to supply her with biscuits and treats rather than hide them away in disgust.
“Thank you,” she murmurs into his back, wrapping her arms around his torso, watching as he slides the pancake to a stacked plateful by the stove. “I love you.”
“And I love you too,” he murmurs, turning around to face her. They stand for a beat, wrapped around one another in the middle of the kitchen bathed in the same sunlight that woke them earlier.
“Dance with me,” she asks quietly into where her face is buried in his neck, inhaling the faint aromas of his aftershave and something else which is inexplicably him but she could never explain the scent to anyone beyond the word home.
At first, she’s unsure if he’s heard her and goes to pull away, let him continue with making their breakfast when he begins swaying gently. They’re just shifting from foot to foot in the middle of her kitchen, his arms around her waist as he leads them in the slowest dance known to man. It’s sweet, a metaphor for them, there’s no music in life and they still danced slowly to one another so they could become what they are, who they are now.
Every move is easy, in sync to the point where after a moment Ted decides to spin her out and she isn’t shocked or worried about crashing into the counter and making a mess of the kitchen. In his arms, Rebecca is the safest she’s ever felt. He spins her back to, resumes his hold on her waist as she leans into his chest, nuzzles her face into his neck and closes her eyes, drifts off, swept up in the moment. She’s so carried away, that to begin with she doesn’t realise she’s begun to hum a familiar ear worm, a song she hears most days that isn’t irritating no matter how often she hears it.
The moment she realises she’s humming the tune is when Ted interrupts the little song she’s started, “I didn’t know we were in a rush to get ready, here was me thinkin’ we’d have all the time to dine this morning?”
Rebecca finds herself laughing in reply, the giggles becoming the new soundtrack to their impromptu kitchen whirl for a beat before Ted continues where she left off in the song.
“Before you know it you’ll be on your knees, she’s an easy lover,” he croons, not missing a beat in a song they both know so well. She joins in, harmonising in the duet as they go from chorus into the first verse in a seamless transition still swaying from side to side in the little dance they can’t seem to break from.
They dance with one another singing to a song that needs no music, and no introduction in this household as for something often played to help them begin the day on time, it is rather trivial today. Today, they have all the time in the world.