“{{user}},” your name it's the first sound that scapes him in the morning, a soft call against your skin, his tongue lazily gliding over your pulse point.

Suguru loves waking you up like this. Slow and methodical, his teeth tugging at your earlobe, his nose gliding past your jaw. He takes his time, drawing out the moment until your body arches up into his involuntarily, your toes curling against the sheets. He loves it when you’re all soft and warm, still half asleep and so very pliable to his touch. He could do this for hours, tasting every inch of your skin as it heats under his lips. Suguru smirks against your skin as he hears you stir, your sleepy sounds encouraging to his ears. A shudder runs through him as he kisses your neck again, harder this time with a hint of teeth; then his tongue follows after, devotion palpable on every gesture.

Suguru pushes his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply; your scent, like rain on a spring day and summer on the ocean. The way it always makes his head spin and his mind empty. His lips brush against the warm skin of your neck again and again, his breath hot against the crook of your throat. He's moving slowly, trying not to rouse you from your dreams. But as he mouths a sucking kiss just below your earlobe, his patience begins to wear thin.

He rolls his hips against you, groaning softly. His hands move up from your hips, greedily sliding under your nightgown— a needy whimper scaping him when his hands meet skin, his body pressing closer against yours. His fingers splay over your chest, palms flat against your warm skin. He can feel your heart beating, slow and steady.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he mumbles, nipping your earlobe again. He’s doing his best to be careful to keep his voice soft; quiet enough that it brushes through your dreams like a pleasant whisper, pulling you gently into the waking world. “Happy birthday.”