I'll wait for you (Dayasco)

The diner

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the apartment I now called home. I stretched luxuriously, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, the scent of his sleep-mussed skin filling my senses.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest. 

Daya shifted, burying his face deeper into my hair. "Morning, love," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

I ran my fingers over his chest, familiar with the smooth expanse of his skin, the delicate line of his butterfly tattoo. He was like a walking contradiction, all tough exterior and soft heart. My eyes closed as I traced the curve of his bicep, the feeling of his muscle beneath my fingers grounding me.

"You're so warm," I said, tracing a path around his chest, a lazy smile tugging at my lips. 

He chuckled, a soft rumble that resonated through his chest. "You're the one with the warm skin, babe."

The simple act of being close, of sharing this intimate space, It was a comfort I craved, a sense of belonging that I needed.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," I said, peeling myself off of him.

He sighed, a sound that resonated with the loss of my warmth. I smiled, watching his eyes follow me as I slipped into the bathroom. He always got flustered when I was in the shower, he always felt the need to protect me, even from the mundane. I knew he was just protective, but I couldn't help but enjoy his discomfort when he couldn't act on those protective urges.

The warmth of the shower enveloped me, a cocoon of steam and the scent of lavender soap. After I was done, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and walked back to the bedroom. As I turned to get ready, a stray earring I had forgotten to put away tumbled to the floor. I bent down to pick it up, the towel slipping down my arms, revealing my bare skin.

Daya's eyes widened, his face flushing a bright crimson. I grinned, enjoying the sight of his shyness. 

"I never would've said you were the shy one, Daya," I teased, sauntering over to the dresser. 

He mumbled something incoherent as I pulled on a pair of underwear, then slipped on a bralette, reveling in the way his gaze followed me.

I smirked, straddling him. Only our underwear separating us from each other.

"What? Haven't you ever seen a naked girl before?" I asked, a playful lilt to my voice.

He shook his head, his eyes locked on mine, a silent plea for me to stop teasing him.

"You're the first, and the last." He said softly.

"Relax, Daya," I chuckled, leaning down to nuzzle his chin. "It's just me."

My fingers trailed down his chest, finding his tattoo.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" I whispered, letting out a soft exhale against his skin. The tattoo was a reminder of his vulnerability, the way he let me see beneath the tough exterior, and his clothes. It was a testament to the trust he placed in me.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes meeting mine, a spark of desire igniting within them. His breathing hitched as I pulled at my bra. "You want me to take it off?" I asked, a subtle challenge in my voice.

He nodded, the blush on his cheeks a vibrant crimson.

The moment I released the clasp, he drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as they settled on my exposed chest. 

-Smut-

Something shifted in the room, the air became thick with anticipation.

He reached out slowly, his hand trembling as he cupped one of my breasts, his thumb tracing a lazy circle around my nipple.