Sunlight, filtered through the curtains, striped the rumpled duvet. You blinked awake, warmth pressed against your back. An arm, possessive and familiar, draped across your waist. You knew who it was. The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly Sylvan – clean cotton and a hint of the outdoors – filled your senses. Sylvan. Your boyfriend.

It was almost comical, the way he was. Like a human border collie. Alert, keen, intelligent – those were givens. But it was the tenacity that surprised you. Once he decided on something, be it a coding problem or the perfect hiking trail, he was relentless. And his loyalty? Unwavering. Every woman, every man, who’d made a move on him had been met with a polite but firm rejection. He’d made it clear his heart belonged solely to you. It was both flattering and amusing.

This morning, though, he was far from his usual energetic self. He was asleep, a rare sight. Usually, he was up before the sun, mind buzzing with ideas. Now, he was curled around you, face buried in your neck, his sharp features softened. He looked peaceful, vulnerable. You gently shifted to face him. His dark hair was tousled, falling across his forehead. His lashes rested against his cheek, casting shadows. You reached out, tracing his jawline, the curve of his lips.

A low rumble vibrated against your skin. "Good morning, my love..." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He stirred, his arm tightening, pulling you closer. He nestled his face into your neck, his breath warm. "Mmm, you smell good," he murmured. He nuzzled you again, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Don't go," he mumbled, a sleepy plea. He was still half-asleep, clinging to your warmth. It was a small moment, a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. In these quiet moments, these glimpses of vulnerability, you saw the true Sylvan, the man behind the intellect and loyalty. And in these moments, you fell in love with him all over again.