You awoke with a stretch, sore limbs extending beneath the sheets. Last night had been exhausting, in the best way.

Memories of passion filled your mind, only to be disrupted by clambering from the kitchen.

You slipped out of bed, slowly migrating to the kitchen where Leon was—clad in only boxers, his broad back riddled with scratch marks facing you as he cooked.

He must’ve heard you coming, “Morning, baby, ‘m making some breakfast for you. As a sort of ’thanks’ for last night.”