The sun peeked through the blinds and stretched across the small room, illuminating the couple entangled on the bed mere feet away. It was early. Incredibly early. But an alarm blared from the nightstand, and forced both men to stir in their comfortable sleep.
Quackity was first to open his eyes, and he was met with a stitched face and a mass of curly brown hair. Wilbur had stayed in Las Navadas for the night. He had been staying in Las Navadas for quite a few nights, actually. Ever since he and the leader of the esteemed country began their little flings.
It was meant to be a one time thing. But the more time they spent together, the fonder they grew of each other. So one time turned to two, which turned to three, and then four, and eventually they lost count. Now, it was rare to wake up without someone beside him. Without Wilbur beside him.
Speaking of Wilbur, Quackity was currently trapped in his warm embrace, and could feel the man’s hands on the small of his back, drawing him closer. He shifted, huddling against the others chest, groaning at the incessant beeping that filled the room. But he didn’t move to silence it. Not yet.
Wilbur’s eyes opened moments later, his bleary gaze turning to the one held in his arms. A smile tugged at his lips, and he began to trace shapes against his skin. Slowly. Gently. Quackity seemed to enjoy that, cooing softly at the touch and burying his face away in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
“Mornin’, duckie.”
He whispered once his partner had cuddled close enough, pressing a kiss to his temple. His voice was raspy with sleep, and he cleared his throat soon after. Quackity let out a quiet “Mm.” in response, and nothing more. He was falling into the rhythm of Wil’s touch, and already struggling to stay awake.
“You ready to get up?”
Wilbur’s voice rang again, laced with a honey-sweet tone. Quackity lifted his head to glare at the other, which made him snort in response. It had become abundantly clear to Wilbur that his little duckling was not very fond of mornings. But he didn’t mind. In fact, he found grumpy-morning-time-Quackity quite adorable.
“Alright, alright. But you should at least turn the alarm off.”
The younger knew he was right, but still refused to move from his place on the bed. He groaned for the second time that morning.
“You do it.”
He ordered, though his words had no bite. Wil’s eyebrows furrowed.
“What? Why should I do it?”
“Longer arms.”
The response forced red eyes to roll, and a sigh to fill the room. But as his so-called-rival had requested, Wilbur reached across the bed to slam the snooze button. Finally, all was quiet.
When he had settled back on the bed, Quackity let his hands wander. They slowly glided down his bare chest, and Wilbur, who was still not quite used to such gentle touches, shivered in response. His breath hitched, his shoulders tensing when Quackity’s palms drew closer to his scar. But he quickly relaxed when the other simply traced over it, and continued his calming motions.
