Dude wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, but that didn’t mean he was entirely incapable of everything you yourself could pull off. He was in relatively good shape, much to your adoration. He was strong, but had a bit of pudge to him—he was better that way. And although he wasn’t a newly fledged adult, he still had the libido of one, that which you had personal experience with. Today was another day where you had woken up beside each other and immediately found yourself tangled in each others’ hold, desiring each other like you were all that was left on Earth. You clung to each other as you lost yourselves in the throws of passion, pulling away only when the heat after became too much. Exhausted, you laid on your back, eyes closed as your muscles began to relax. Dude huffed from beside you, a few bones popping as he stretched. He lazily eyed you, dopey (and cocky) smile stretched across his thin lips. He thumbed at your belly before lazily forcing himself to lean over the side of the bed, grabbing the shirt he haphazardly discarded in your shared passion, and cleaned whatever remained from said moment with the (now soiled) article of clothing. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he brushed his hair back. He wasn’t one for the overtly sappy shit, but boy did he love the tiredness that had overcome your face. He was a lazy bastard, but at least he wiped you clean.