Oneshots (18+)

Sweet Dreams

**AN** A little fluffy smut to set the mood? My birthday is next week! #PiscesGang

I sigh, removing my glasses to set them down beside my keyboard. I bring my hands to my face in an attempt to rub the sleepiness from my tired eyes. Replacing the spectacles, I wince slightly as I glance at the time and date displayed in the bottom right of the screen. I reach for the unfinished glass of whiskey sitting on the desk.

"3 am on pie day already? Where did the time go?" I wonder aloud as I lean back in my chair and bring the glass to my lips. My head tips back against the soft leather of the headrest as the burning liquid slides its way down my throat. I hum in pleasure as the burn settles in the pit of my stomach, smiling slightly as my eyes refocus on the screen before me.

I read the final draft once more before saving the document. Quickly, I type an email to my editor, attach the file, and send it off. A grin makes its way to my lips as I watch the email flip from my outbox to the sent folder. It's done. Finally.

I rise to my feet, bringing my arms above my head as I arch my back. Chills break out on my skin as I feel the crackling in my spine and the stretch in my drastically underutilized muscles, reminding me I've been sitting in that chair for the past 7 hours with almost no reprieve. The smile still hasn't left my face as I walk toward my office door. A small slip of paper sticking out underneath the closed wood catches my eye; my smile quickly turns into a frown.

"What is this?" I stoop down to pick up the paper and on my way up rest my hand against the cold knob in front of me. My eyes widen as I scan what appears to be a note before the paper falls from my fingertips. Anxiously, I whirl around to the calendar. A large red circle marks the date.

March 13 - Pick Jean up from the airport at 9 pm.

"Fuck!" I yelled, wrenching the door open. Two suitcases stand on their side by the front door and stop me in my tracks. Disappointment and shame swirl within my chest as the words from the note, now discarded on my office floor, flash across my eyes.

My Life,

Your phone was dead when I tried to call, which meant one of two things. You were either dead in our home or finishing your latest novel.

I got an Uber home and, thankfully, discovered you were in your office alive and well.

Don't worry about the ride, my love. Your work is important. Plus, you paid for it.

I didn't want to disturb you, so I'm in bed sleeping. Please bring my suitcases up when you're done. I really didn't want to carry them up the stairs. And please wake me up when you come to bed. I miss you.

I love you always,

Jean

I sigh to myself and walk to the luggage, picking one up in each hand as I turn toward the stairs. As quietly as possible, so as not to wake my sleeping wife, I make my way up to our second story bedroom. I set the bags down just outside our bedroom door, which has been left slightly ajar. Gently, I push the door open with one hand on the knob to ensure it doesn't swing wide, and slip my body inside the room. The image that awaits me is breathtaking. I can do nothing but stop and stare, taking in the sights before me.

Jean is lying on her side, facing toward me. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, slightly damp from the shower she appears to have taken after she got home. The moonlight glints gently off the brown tresses from the window across the room. Since her back is to the window her face is in shadow, but the light of the moon in the room allows me to just make out the beautiful features of her face. My eyes outline her closed eyelids, the soft curve of her nose, gliding over her full, slightly parted lips. Her body rises and falls with the timing of her breathing, and subconsciously my own breath synchronizes with hers.