Archive of Our Own

It was a Sunday morning - one of those soft, slow ones you only get in autumn. It was raining lightly outside, and you and Joost were all curled up together on the plush sofa in your little living room. You had a mug of warm chamomile tea precariously balanced on a stack of books on the side table which was lit by a warmly glowing lamp. He had an arm wrapped around you loosely, and he was half asleep, his eyelids fluttering shut every now and then, his golden eyelashes shimmering. You turned towards him - he was really a sight in this light, an almost angelic glow being cast over his perfect complexion. You kissed his jawline, nuzzling into him gently. His eyes opened weakly, blinking heavily down at you and moving a tattooed hand into your hair. You sighed contentedly, breathing in his musky scent and closing your eyes. His arms were warm and comforting around you, just what you needed as the chilly weather began to seep into the house. You felt a sense of serenity and safety.