His hair was messy, his shirt collar had fallen to reveal his collarbone, and a single strand of ginger fell in his face, bringing in subtle asymmetry to his features.

Cal’s eyes took in your own face, your lids closed as you laid next to him asleep. He couldn’t help but let his gaze fall from your rising chest to your mouth, the light from his workbench illuminating your skin.

He didn’t want to touch you, so he just watched. He muttered a compliment of you to you — even if you didn’t hear.