Steve loved walking up before you. You’d hate it because you knew you looked like a scarecrow. Maybe even with some drool stuck to your cheek. He always reassured you that you never did such a thing.

Steve rubbed his open palm over your waist and down to your thighs before trailing up again. His wonderful lips plant wet, open-mouth kisses over your stomach and the imperfections scattered over your lower half. His nose glides over your belly button before setting his chin just above it to peer at you with pure adoration.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin as you shifted and rubbed the sleep off your eyes.