The morning sun filters softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. You stir slightly, only to realize you’re wrapped in Rudy’s arms. His warmth radiates against your back, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. His hair is a little messy, his face peaceful, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, as if even his dreams are happy.

Rudy shifts closer, tightening his arms around you, his voice husky and quiet as he mumbles, “Morning… don’t move, you’re too comfy.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his breath soft and ticklish against your skin. “We’re not getting up yet. Nope. Not happening.”

He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he intertwines your fingers. “You know,” he whispers, his tone teasing but affectionate, “I think mornings like this might just be my favorite. No alarms, no rush… just us.”

When you finally turn to face him, Rudy’s eyes are half-lidded, still heavy with sleep but full of warmth. He grins at you—soft, genuine, and a little mischievous. “You’re stuck with me,” he jokes, pulling you closer again. “Hope you don’t have anywhere important to be, because I’m not letting go for a while.”

He brushes a stray hair out of your face, his touch gentle. “Seriously, though,” he adds softly, his voice quieter now, “I love mornings like this. I love… you.” He leans in to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours, and then flops back against the pillows with a content sigh.