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It’s Sunday morning, the chill of April has finally passed and made way for the warmer mornings of May. It’s raining, of course it is. It’s the rainy season in the northern part of the country you live, the sun is just beginning it’s arc across the sky. Just looking out of the window, you’d wager a guess at eight in the morning, perhaps later. It’s hard to tell with the thick blanket of clouds, but it’s not so thick that the light doesn’t shine dimly through.
Something- no, no, someone- shifts in bed next to you, arm around your sheet-covered torso, pulling you closer. Lips press to the side of your head, that’s right, he’s your husband now. Still feels strange to say, let alone to even think. But it’s true, he’s yours and you are his.
“Good morning.” His voice is thick with sleep but you can hear the smile in it. It makes you flush just to think about it, so you turn yourself, leaning on your left arm, pillow propped under your chin.
“Hi,” you whisper as he blinks softly at you, a pink tint to his cheeks, making the softer freckles that dust the bridge of his nose stand out. You kiss him again, gently and quickly on his forehead. He’s really yours, isn’t he? It’s still unbelievable.
“Watching the rain?” he asks, his hand slips out of the blanket cocoon he’s wrapped in and brushes the hair from your eyes and lingers at your ear. You hum in response as he dips in for a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, up your neck and up to your chin.
“Hey Dave?” You rest your arm at your side, his hand finds yours and he entwines his fingers with yours. His ring clinks against your ring and it makes your heart skip a beat to think about it.
He looks at you, blinking sleepily, “Yes Karkat?”
“I love you.”
He laughs softly, a beautiful sound to your ears, “I love you too, Kar.”
He kisses you, on the nose, then one to each cheek, one for your forehead and one to your chin. It makes you laugh how he puts off the actual kiss to your lips by kissing every other available inch of exposed skin. He once told you that it was his small way of saving the best part for the last.
He rubs his nose against yours and takes your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in for a loving kiss to your lips. You think maybe it makes it just a little better when he does save your lips for the last one, it makes you savor him even more.
Blankets shift around and he wraps his arms around you, pulling your chest flushed to his and he cradles his head against your collarbone, the top tucked under your now free chin. He rubs his cheek against you and you close your eyes, listening to the sound of the rain against the flowers in the garden and the sound of his soft, even breathing. He sighs softly, giving you a squeeze and starts talking softly, as though he doesn’t want to break the quiet of the morning.
“I had an amazing dream last night.” He whispers as if he were in a library and he was afraid to upset the librarian.
“What was it about?” You half-whisper back, kissing the top of his head.
“It’s silly, but… it was about you. I dreamt we went to this museum back on Earth A and we had coffee and held hands while looking at the art. But I couldn’t stop staring at you,” he says and nuzzles closer, “That’s so weird, right? We have plenty of museums here but my brain was really in the mood for an Earth A museum.”
“Do you remember the art we looked at?” You ask him, petting his wild bed-head into place.
“Hmm… the Venus De Milo, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, The Lock, and the Mona Lisa, of course. You know… now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure we were at The Louvre,” he smiles at the end, “It was a museum in France, but it’s what we did after that matters.”
“Oh yeah? What would that be?” You ask him despite knowing exactly where this is going, you make a small attempt to keep the smile from your lips, but don’t put much effort into it.
“Well we went out to this restaurant and I remember eating steak or something like that. You kept pouring me glasses of wine but it’s not like I was making any effort to stop you,” he pauses and smiles, biting his lip slightly, “Needless to say, you totally got in my pants. Score one point to Team Karkat.”
You snort and roll your eyes, smile still dancing on your lips, “That’s it, huh? I just got in your pants? Please. We both know it takes a lot more than that to actually get you in the mood.”
“Aw babe, are you calling me a prude? I’ll have you know I’m holding back for your sake,” he runs his fingertips up your side, “If we had sex as often as I wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”
“Is that a dare?” You slide down so you’re eye-to-eye with him and you kiss him on the way down, just because you can.
His ringed hand meets yours again, he gives you a squeeze and tugs your wrist closer. He catches it in his hand and pulls your hand down, into the swath of blankets. He’s still got his boxers on so you have to reach into the waistband of them to get at his hips.
“Mmm, I don’t want to get up, can’t we just stay in bed?” He complains and rolls his hips forward, “Don’t make me get up, babe. You can get up all you like, but don’t make me do it.”
“You’re so lazy, making me do all the work while you lay around.” You rub your fingers against his hip and skirt your other hand inside the seam, tugging them down. He lifts his hips and kicks them off, sliding down to be bunched and forgotten by his feet.
“Yeah, but you still love me even if I’m a lazy piece of shit, right?” He breathes deeply and slides his now-bare hips closer to you, you’re silently thankful that you don’t bother to get dressed for bed anymore, or wear clothes in bed anymore for that matter.
“I married you, Dave, of course I still love you even when you’re a lazy sack of shit.” You smile and give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “In sickness and in health, and also in lazy rainy Sunday mornings.”
“Don’t quite remember that last part, babe.” He raises his eyebrow at you.
“I made it up. Just now.” You hook your hand around his thigh and set his left leg on yours, sliding him closer until his chest is pressed to yours, his head resting back into the space under your chin.
“You’re fucking… heh, ridiculous, you know that?” He laughs softly as your bulge slides out and clings to his thighs. “Karkat, babe, hah, holy shit that tickles.”
“What this…” you wiggle it around and smile when he starts giggling, “That tickles?”
“Babe, hah, stop! I’m going to… kill you, you’re ruining… the mood.” He playfully pinches your side.
“Fine, fine, party pooper.” You grin and kiss his face which is currently flushed with a mix of mortification at you tickling him and embarrassment for laughing because you’re tickling him.
“Mmm, that’s better,” he mumbles, his breathing starts picking up, “Don’t you- Don’t tickle me.”
“I’m not, I’m not, relax,” you assure him and nudge his head back with your chin so you can watch his face, “I love you.”
If it was not possible before, it is now; he’s redder than ever, “I love you, Karkat.”
“You’re so cute when you get embarrassed.” You tell him and he tries to hide his face but you push back at his face with yours, you bulge rubs against his clit and he tries to bury his face in your chest again.
“Man, don’t make me look right at you!”
“Why not? You’re beautiful, Dave.” It’s the truth, he is beautiful. He’s perfect in his imperfect human, alien way. You love him and you love watching him.
“Dude it’s…” he breathes out through his nose frustratedly, “It’s hella embarrassing just thinkin’ about you gettin’ off watchin’ me.”
“Then don’t think about it?” You offer and he narrows his eyes at you, cheeks tinting redder than before, if that’s possible.
“I can’t… I can’t not think about it.”
“Then you can close your eyes, but you can’t hide your face. I want to watch you.” You plant a kiss on his forehead, “Deal?”
“Fine,” he agrees and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.
You twist your head slightly and kiss his face wherever your lips can get to. You start with his chin and work your way up, not paying much mind to the absolutely beautiful breathy sounds he’s making.
Once you get to his left cheekbone, you gently kiss his eyelid, sweeping across from one to the other, working in a U-shape down and back to the edge of his lips. He parts his lips slightly, peeking at you through the bottom of his eyelids.
“Thought you didn’t want to watch?” You crinkle your nose at him.
“Just… seeing where you are.” You know he’s lying but you decide not to call him out on it. Who are you to judge if he wants to lie to himself once in a while? It’s cuter that he’s in denial anyway.
“You’re amazing, Dave.” You tell him instead, your bulge rubbing against him roughly, “You’re so good.”
“You’re such a sap in the morning, babe. You can’t say that shit until I’ve had breakfast at the very least.” He kisses your neck and his eyes flutter closed again, “Feels good, don’t… don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” you glide against him, he’s soaking wet now, his breathing kicks up a notch and he moans softly into your ear.
“Mmhm, Karkat…” he nibbles softly on your earlobe, “I’m actually mad that I’m so tired right now.”
You smile at him even though he can’t see it, “Relax, don’t worry about me. You can make me breakfast, just let me get you.”
“Mmmhmm, okay. I love you, Karkat.” Your bulge slides closer, looking for an entrance and you pull his hips, sliding inside of him. “Ah, yeah. Fuck.”
His arms tighten around you, nails biting into your skin, but not so much that it hurts. The rain outside shifts direction and beats against the window, you can hear it hitting against the leaves on the tree outside of your house and falling in drops on the siding. His head slides up from your neck and you catch his lips against yours, your bulge writhes around inside of him.
He’s tired so he’s a lot easier than normal, which frankly, isn’t saying much. Not that you mind of course, you’re not looking for anything more than giving him affection right now. His teeth pull at your lip when he pulls back, he opens his eyes slowly and looks at you while he cums, muttering your name under his breath, “Ah… Karkat.”
“You’re so perfect, Dave. You’re beautiful. I love you.” You tell him and kiss his cheeks, you feel his walls clamp around you at your praise. You smile at him and his hands untense, legs pulling away from you.
“I love you too. I just… I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He reaches up and pets at the side of your head, “What did I do to deserve you? You’re so perfect.”
“You’re perfect.” You parrot back at him and he full on grins at you.
“Have you ever looked in a mirror?”
“Have you?” You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around him and just hold onto him for a while.
“Hungry yet?” He asks after a moment, his voice sounding a little more awake now.
“I could stand to eat. I want eggs and coffee.” You kiss the top of his head as he slides up, pulling the blankets up and throwing his side onto you.
You watch him get up and walk over to the closet, sliding it open and grabbing a random shirt off of a hanger. It’s one of your sweaters, but he doesn’t put it back, instead he slides it on over his bare chest, shaking the hair out of his face. He slides a fresh pair of boxers on and toes back over to you, feet quiet on the carpet and he kisses your forehead.
“I’m gonna put some music on, be out in three.” He says and stops himself in the doorway, “Hey, I love you.”
You laugh softly, “Go on, I’ll be up. Love you too.”
He lingers for another second, watching you toss the blankets off before he pads off in the direction of the living room.
You sit up and run your hands through your hair, sighing and decide not to bother making the bed this morning. You slide out of bed and stand, stretching your arms skyward. You walk over to the closet and decide to wear one of his shirts, it’s a little too big on him so it fits you perfectly. You hear the record player start up, it’s one of your favorite songs and you smile at the irony of the title.
You slide your boxers on and grab one of your oversized cardigans that Kanaya knitted for you. She let you pick out the colors, black and a lighter grey, nearly white. You don’t bother with your hair, you want to see Dave again already. Plus, breakfast doesn’t sound too bad. You open up the curtains and let the light in the rest of the way before walking out to the kitchen.
Dave is at the counter, measuring up fresh coffee grounds in the little basket at the top of the coffee maker. He’s turned away from you so you walk quietly behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him closer and kissing his ear.
“Good morning.” He says softly and rubs your arms, leaning his head against yours before getting back to work filling up the basket. He grabs the coffee pot full of water and pours it into the back while you hold onto him. He closes the top of the machine and puts the now empty pot on the burner.
“Want to dance with me?” You ask him and spin him around so he’s facing you. Your sweater is already over-sized on you but he has the sleeves on it folded over so they don’t cover his hands. Regardless, it hangs low on his hips and he looks fucking beautiful in it.
“You know I can’t dance, but… for you, I will.” He pulls your hand up and kisses your knuckles.
You pull him against you and rest your chin on his shoulder, slowly swaying around the kitchen to the beat of the song. He pulls back and your heart nearly stops in your chest. The light from the windows and the music and just him dancing around with you in your kitchen. You love your husband and he loves you.
He swoops in for a kiss and spins you around, catching you in his arms from behind and sways with you, his cheek against yours. He hums to the lyrics and you close your eyes for a moment, taking in the atmosphere. You never want to leave this moment.
“Go sit at the table, I’ll make your eggs and bring you your coffee.” He whispers in your ear and kisses your cheek, arms loosening.
You almost want to grab him back up and spin him around again, but you are pretty hungry so you take his order and sit at the table, watching him sway his hips around to the music while he pulls a loaf of bread out of the cupboard, removing a few slices. He sets them on the counter and uses a cookie-cutter to punch a shape into the middle of them. He eats the middle piece while he walks over to the fridge and takes the eggs out, setting them on the counter by the stove-top. You sigh softly, he’s so beautiful even when he’s doing something as simple as making you breakfast.
He throws the pieces of bread he cut into the pan, it sizzles for a second and he cracks an egg into each of them. The coffee maker beeps and he walks over to it, pouring a cup for you and dropping three sugar cubes into it and a splash of vanilla creamer, just the way you like it. He stirs it for a moment, tapping the spoon on the edge of the cup and setting it aside. He walks it over to you and sets the cup in front of you, dipping down to kiss the top of your head.
“Food is almost done, I’ll be with you in a moment.” He assures you and pats the space between your horns, walking back over to the eggs and shifting them around with a spatula.
After he’s done with that, he walks back over to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup, you know he takes his coffee extra sweet with lots of cream. You pick up your cup and blow at the steam before sipping it carefully. The creamer cooled it enough that you could take a big drink if you really wanted to, but you’d rather watch him.
He takes out a big plate from the drying rack next to the sink and eats the middle of the other pieces while he walks the plate over to the stove, removing the eggs from the pan and sliding them carefully onto the plate. He puts salt and pepper on them and grabs a fork, walking the plate over to you and sitting across from you.
“You only grabbed one fork.” You point at the fork with your free hand, sipping at your drink again for more of a distraction than to wake up at this point.
“I know.” He cuts into an egg, yolk spilling out over one of them. You smile at him, he punched a heart-shape into the bread. And he says you’re the one who is too romantic.
“Open up.” He says and scoops a fork full of bread and egg, covered in the yolk, holding it out to you. You laugh and roll your eyes but you do. He smiles at you, chuckling under his breath as you lean forward and bite it off the fork. You swear if eyes could come in a heart shape, that would be your eyes right now.
“You’re ridiculous.” You tell him after you swallow, you sip your coffee while watching him, you love him so much that it’s criminal.
“You’re ridiculously cute.” He says and cuts into the other egg, reaching across the table to link your ringed hand with his.
You rest your head on your shoulder, watching him eat a few bites of egg and toast before scooping another fork full for you. He doesn’t have to ask this time, you lean forward and he feeds you. You sigh deeply and close your eyes.
“Enjoying your breakfast?” He asks as though you could ever say you weren’t.
“I’m enjoying being married to you.” You smile at him and he gives you another bite, this time leaning across to place a kiss to your forehead after he pulls the fork away. He sits back down and eats the rest of his quietly, watching you for another moment before sliding the plate across to you.
“I’m gonna restart that record. Finish your eggs and meet me on the couch, babe.” He pushes up from the table, grabbing his cup and refilling it at the coffee maker beforing walking into the living room. You listen to the record needle pick up and start at the beginning again, piano sounds fill the air while you eat your eggs.
After you’ve finished, you rinse the plate in the sink and refill your cup too, dropping in an extra sugar cube and add an extra splash of creamer, stirring it and you tap the spoon on the edge. You walk into the living room to see that he’s sitting on the couch, a book in hand and one of your books is already on the coffee table, ready for you to read.
You set your cup down and take your usual seat, right behind the window so the light catches the pages just right. He opened the window slightly so you can hear the sound of the rain while you read and listen to music. He rests his head on your legs, kicking his feet up and draping them across the arm of the couch.
“I love you, Karkat Vantas.” He says and rubs his cheek against your cardigan.
“And I love you, Dave Vantas-Strider.” You squeeze his hand in yours, his ring clinks on yours.