The soft light of morning filters in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The remnants of last night linger in the air — tangled sheets, the subtle scent of him, and the weight of his presence beside you. You stretch beneath the covers, trying to slip away quietly. There’s something so comforting about the stillness of the morning, but as your movement causes the sheets to shift, you feel it: the pull of his warmth next to you.

You glance over at Killian, his eyes still closed, his face peaceful in sleep, his dark hair messy and tousled. He’s always a sight to behold, even when he’s not trying. For a moment, you think you might be able to slip away unnoticed.

But then, you feel it. His hand shifts from its place on the pillow next to you, reaching out with surprising speed to catch your wrist before you can move too far.

“Nope, no escaping this time,” Killian’s voice rumbles sleepily, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s playful, the way he says it, but there’s an unmistakable glint in his eyes when they flutter open.

You freeze for a moment, caught between wanting a little space and the undeniable warmth of his touch. “I wasn’t escaping,” you protest softly, though your voice is laced with a slight chuckle, knowing exactly what this game is. “Just needed a minute.”

Killian pulls you back toward him with a gentle tug, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you snugly back into bed. His body heat envelopes you like a comforting blanket. “Mm-hmm,” he hums in amusement, unconvinced. It wasn’t until he saw the look on your face that he realized something was wrong.

His lips brush your forehead as he pulls you closer, resting his head against the pillow, his fingers gently stroking your side. The touch is tender, there’s a softness to the way he holds you now.