yaevuu

[yaevuu]

after a long day

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You and your husband-John Price-were getting ready to sleep after another long day. The soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the bedframe filled the room as you settled in beside him. John, as usual, was already under the covers, engrossed in his book. The warm glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his sharp features, the light catching on his salt-and-pepper beard and highlighting the slight furrow in his brow as he read.

Dressed in his usual plain pyjamas, he looked effortlessly handsome, though you couldn't help but smirk at the sight of his reading glasses perched on his nose. He rarely wore them, stubborn as he was, but the small font of the novel demanded it tonight.

"You know, you look ridiculously good in those glasses," you murmured, leaning back against your pillow.

John's lips curved into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes stayed on the page. "Is that so?" he replied, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Didn't think glasses were your type."

"They are when you're the one wearing them." Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the line of his jaw and the broad expanse of his chest beneath the thin fabric.

He chuckled softly, finally lowering the book to glance at you. The way his piercing eyes met yours sent a spark through your chest. "Careful, love. Talk like that, and I might not finish this chapter."

"Maybe that's the point." You shifted closer, letting your hand graze his arm. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the faint tension in his muscles, a reminder of the stress he carried from the day.

John placed the book face-down on the nightstand, taking off his glasses and setting them aside with deliberate care. "You've got my attention," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"I'd hope so," you teased, leaning in to brush your lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, but the way his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, told you he wasn't in the mood to keep things gentle for long.

"You've been distracting me all day," he murmured against your lips, his beard tickling your skin. "You're lucky I've got more patience than you."

You laughed softly, your fingers trailing up his chest. "Maybe I like testing your patience."

John didn't bother replying. Instead, he rolled you onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your mouth in a kiss that left no room for argument. The day's exhaustion melted away, replaced by the heat of his touch and the low growl in his throat that made your heart race.

The book and glasses were forgotten as the night stretched on, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on the nightstand- and even that didn't last long.