The morning began slowly.

Sunlight was bathing in your bedroom. Jared was lying half on the bed, half on top of you, his face buried in your chest while his right hand played with your hair. A gentle, repetitive, requested movement. When you tried to move, feigning a craving for coffee, he only snuggled closer.

"Let me enjoy this a little longer before the harsh realities of life hit me," he grumbled.

And it went on like that for a long time. No matter what you tried to say or do, he just made sure to be even more close to you, kissing your skin and teasing you gently. However, his head lifted when you mentioned baking a cake. Like a cute puppy, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he sat up on the bed.

"Really?"

And so, barely ten minutes later, there you were, baking a pumpkin cake. Still half asleep and in his pajamas, Jared is nonetheless very excited. He keeps shifting between chairs, waving his hands to awake you, "Come on, baby! Are we going to make this cake or not?"

He's so adorable when he looks at you with such hopeful eyes.

Unfortunately, cooking this early in the morning isn't really your thing, nor his. The kitchen now looks like a minefield. The floor is littered with something that vaguely looks like your cake, the countertop is dirty, and even the wall has a bit of batter on it. But that doesn't seem to bother Jared. With his hands on your waist, he pulls you closer to kiss you tenderly on the lips.

The kiss quickly becomes more passionate, much to his delight. But as his hands begin to travel down your body, something suddenly catches you two’s attention.

The cake. It smells like it's burning.

Jared rushes to open the oven, removing the cake with an oven mitt which he then tosses aside.

"Damn, we managed to mess up the baking too," he sighs, shaking his head, before stepping back towards you. His hands find your hips and he leans in, murmuring, "By the way. Have I ever mentioned that the kitchen is one of my fantasies?" His eyebrows rise as his voice trails off sensually, his lips curling into a smile.

"We got… I don’t know, a spatula here," he chuckled leaves his lips as he buries his face in your neck, seeking closeness.