He is quite lovely, Ryan thinks as she gazes at Cook's face completely relaxed in sleep. His skin is so fair, especially compared to her own, the contrast apparent as she sweeps her fingers softly down the line of his nose. He doesn't have long eyelashes like most of the blokes she knows, but his mouth is soft and pink like a girl's and she runs her thumb across them, adoring the feel of a slight give under her light touch. He shifts and sighs in his sleep and she wonders how many people have done this - have just watched Cook as he has slept. How many people have seen the lines of stress, and anger, and laughter melt away as his body relaxed fully, and have marveled at how beautiful he is. Because he really is beautiful. With his bright eyes, and crooked smile, and crazy hair.
She shifts closer to his warmth and listens to him breathing in and out and she smiles. She feels... complete with him beside her. Like... if... if she had nothing at all left, nothing but Cookie, she'd get on just fine. And isn't that about as sappy as it gets, Ryan thinks, but even as she does her heart flutters - she actually feels like this about someone. She feels like those birds in the books, and movies, and telly shows. Like those people who sing those songs that are all about feeling just like this. And so what if it's sappy and lovey dovey - it's still nice isn't it?
She closes her eyes and recalls - he'd come over earlier, said he was feeling ill with a headache and she suggested he have a lie down. She was planning on finishing up tidying the kitchen while he slept, maybe make some pasta for when he woke up, but he'd stripped off his shirt, jeans, and trainers and pulled her to him. "Just a bit of a snuggle, yeah?" said those soft lips against her ear. And he really must have been feeling badly because really all they did was snuggle, even with her warm, bare skin pressed up against his.
But she loves it - not that he's not feeling well, but because she's the one that he comes to when he isn't. She feels fuzzy and warm, like her skin is made of velvet, and the cool air from outside makes the room the perfect temperature as it plays on her face and shoulders and ruffles Cook's already mussed hair.
Ryan's heart swells - she loves him so much - and when the sudden need to kiss him softly on the lips appears she can't resist. When she leans in and skims her lips over his he shifts and sighs again. She adds pressure, softly, and smooths her hand over his shoulder and down his silky chest, and this time his eyelids flutter.
This feeling, this heavy feeling that oddly enough makes her feel like she can float, unfurls in her body, spreading through her arms, and legs as she presses her chest to his. Cook's eyes are still closed, but Ryan knows he's awake now by the way his sleep heavy arm raises slightly to place a hand on her hip and he leans in to return her kiss.
They keep their movements lazy, his thumb circling her hip bone right above the waist band of her knickers and her nudges to his nose with her own. She runs her hand up his chest, over his shoulder, down his arm. She loves touching him. He's so soft, and it's strange because it would be the last word a person would use to describe Cook - rough, passionate, wild, but not soft.
He opens his mouth to murmur something, but she leans in and places her mouth against his to stop it. No talking just yet. She runs her hand down his stomach and keeps going until she's brushing her fingers against the soft worn cotton of his pants.
He gives a sleepy kind of smile against her lips and his inhalation of breath takes a sharp edge when she cups him through the fabric and rubs gently.
This is mine, she can't help thinking. He is hers, all hers and God, she's all his and it overwhelms her slightly in this moment. When his hips cant forward slightly, she raises her hand only to slip it down the front of the fabric to curl her fingers around hot, hard, silky skin. He stills in his tasting of her lips to rest his forehead against hers and breathe in deeply.
She loves the way he feels, hot and heavy in her palm. She loves the way he moves, the way his shoulders shift and the way he buries his face into her neck kissing the skin there faintly. She loves the way he sounds, the way his breaths get quicker and a little deeper the longer she strokes. The fingers on her lower back curl inwards as the hand on her hip tightens momentarily before mirroring her earlier movements when they slide up and down the smooth skin of her chest and stomach.
His hands on her skin, all over her, burns in the best possible way. Its a slow burn that rises but stops and simmers at the perfect temperature. She tightens her grip the way she knows he likes it and the soft moan she feels against her chest and hears against her ear makes her eyes slide shut. His hand keeps the steady up and down on her skin while she stokes and when she feels his fingers slide down the front of her knickers, between her legs, rubbing in soft circles everything clicks into place again.
This is perfection, pleasure at it's base in a loop, and Ryan can't help but smile a bit into his shoulder. His fingers speed up gradually. "Together, yeah?" he whispers in her ear. "I want us... together. I want to hear you." He slips two fingers inside to pump slowly and uses his thumb in that way that she loves. Her breath catches. "I want to watch you." She's trembling slightly now, he's pushing every button - fingers moving and breath ghosting against her throat that match the murmuring in her ear, punctuated by nibbles on her earlobe, and soon she's swept up in a sea of sensation and all she can do is feel and she can barely breathe as he pushes her to the edge and she's falling sharply and sweetly.
She can hear him vaguely in the background as he pulls back enough to do as he says and keep his eyes on her, but it's just added to the glorious soundtrack of the moment. The rushing in her ears fades away and her heartbeat has slowed down a bit before she opens her eyes again.
He looks relaxed and satisfied, but his eyes are the best part. Even though they always look like this (filled with a kind of wonder) after sex it still makes her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. They keep their hands where they are and she's glad for it - relishes her slackened grip on him and the way his fingers are still inside of her, thumb sending sparks of pleasure under her skin. The hand on her back pulls her closer until their bodies are flush against each other and the kiss he gives her is deep, and lazy, and indulgent, and goes on for a long time.
"Fucking beautiful..." and "perfect..." The words are murmured right against her lips and she smiles slowly in response. "I love you."
Yeah, this lovey dovey stuff really is quite nice.