Morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting faint stripes across the sheets. The world feels still — soft, slow, and entirely yours. You wake to the faintest touch, a fingertip drawing lazy circles along your shoulder, drifting down your arm in an absentminded rhythm. It’s warm, delicate, almost like he’s memorizing you.

Auston lies beside you, half-awake, his eyes hazy and relaxed. His hair’s a mess, curls falling over his forehead, and there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips when he notices your breathing change. “Didn’t mean to wake you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep.

But he doesn’t stop. His thumb traces the edge of your jaw now, slow and careful, like he’s afraid the moment might disappear if he moves too fast. He leans closer, the tip of his nose brushing your temple as he exhales softly — the kind of sound that only comes when he’s at peace.

The air between you hums with quiet affection. There’s no rush, no noise, no world outside the room — just him, his hand finding yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing through yours as he presses a small kiss to your shoulder. “You always look so good in the morning,” he whispers, a smile audible in his voice.

You can feel the sincerity in every touch, every word — the way he looks at you like you’re the calm after every storm. And as his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer until your heartbeat matches his, it’s clear that Auston Matthews doesn’t just love moments like this. He lives for them.