A Truelove of Turtle Doves

Chpt 32 - Intrusion

I could hear birds chirping joyfully.

The gentle rustle of curtains.

I swear I could even feel a very soft breeze.

The covers were up to my waist and my back was pressed into something warm.

Francis.

His arms were draped over my form and my back was against his chest. His steady breath hit the back of my neck, making my hairs stand up. His legs were tangled with my own and the bed sheets.

I could feel sunlight hitting the side of my face as it streamed in through the middle window.

I hadn't closed it fully. Or drawn the curtains.

I'd been a bit too preoccupied by a certain Frenchman.

I felt myself smile.

Not that I had minded.

Francis must have felt the sunlight on his face too because he stirred slightly, tugging me closer to him as he nuzzled his face into my back.

I chuckled lightly, twisting around so that I was facing him. I peeked open an eye to see him with his eyes closed, a peaceful smile on his face.

It made my own smile grow.

I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck and he hugged me closer to his body, resting his chin on top of my head. He sighed happily.

"Morning, amoureux," I whispered, my voice slightly hoarse from my use of it last night.

Last night.

Just the thought made a massive, silly grin cross my face.

"Good morning, mon amour," he replied.

His voice was also slightly croaky and laced with the aftermath of sleep, but I could hear his smile without having to see his face. His accent was stronger, more noticeable, as well.

I liked the way his voice sounded early in the morning.

I wanted to hear it for the rest of my life.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, closing my eyes again as I leaned against him.

He hummed, running a hand through my hair in a calm manner.

"Oui, tres bien, merci," he mumbled, "And yourself, mon trésor?"

"Perfectly," I yawned, fully prepared to go back to sleep now that I was curled up against him again.

He chuckled, the deep sound of it resonating through me as we both settled back down into a comfortable silence.

I loved this.

I loved waking up to him next to me.

The tranquility of this moment relaxed me; the only sounds were the soothing songs of the birds, the light rustle of curtains and bed sheets, and the deep breathing of myself and Francis as we hovered between sleep and wakefulness.

It was a sleepy atmosphere. One filled with soft tones, like a lullaby.

"Mon amour, how is your shoulder?"

"S'okay. Why?"

He kissed my forehead. "In all honesty, I forgot about it, mon trésor. I wanted to make sure I hadn't hurt it last night."

I smiled and kissed his neck. "You didn't, amoureux. I would have said something if you did."

"Bien. I'm glad."