𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗩𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 (𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚡𝙱)

Track 62 | 𝗜 𝗖𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗲𝗱

⏭

Incense and campfire smoke. 

I rapturously drew in Ari's scent as if he were my own portable inhaler. Or an addictive Ari-flavored vape. Or anything of that likeness.

With my face attached to his shirt and my muzzle buried deep within his chest, I laid partly on top of him, my left arm and leg hanging loosely over his body. Half-awake and zombified, Ari's fingers tenderly caressed my head, his claws gently scratching at my scalp and combing through the bristles of my hair.

He's intoxicating. Everything about this moment has been intoxicating. We were in our own serene world, coexisting peacefully in one another's arms, bathing in the golden sun of a cool, undisturbed morning. We'd been lying here for about half an hour since we both woke up, quietly dozing off as more light poured into the pool-colored sky.

I didn't want it to end. I could spend a lifetime here, snuggling with him. It was my idea of heaven; soaring and pleasant. 

Daybreak's crisp, rejuvenating breeze sailed in leisurely through the crack of the window and provided us with a refreshing chill, ensuring that we didn't bake like two raisins in the sun. Even if we did, I still wouldn't move a muscle. If I could melt into Ari's skin like a popsicle, I wouldn't be complaining.

I listened closely to Ari's breathing, feeling every exhale gingerly kiss the tips of my ears. His heartbeat was calm and relaxed, which was comforting to be aware of. Every now and then, he'd shift just a tiny bit—whether it be a head-turn or a knee-bend—to which I'd respond with another loving kiss against his chest, or his neck, or his chin, or his anywhere. I could go like this for hours and never get bored of it. Every second feels new and rewarding, even if I'm in the same position for several minutes.

Ari traced his thumb down the back of my neck, sending delightful shivers of gratification down my spine, prompting another kiss from me. I touched my lips benevolently to his collarbone, to which he responded with a mutual head turn, landing his muzzle right against my cheek, and a supple arm touch, utilizing his other unused hand. I gazed up at his still, pacified face, eyes closed and nostrils flaring with each serene breath. Each action had an equal, opposite reaction. We functioned like two cogs paired in a machine, working off of one another effortlessly. There was low effort and minimum energy to our quiet love as compared to last night, but it meant just as much. 

I felt clean and light, resting so close and intimately. I can't remember the last time I felt so dearly involved with someone. To share something like this, it required vehement affection. We were just two teenagers, embracing silently in one bed, basking in one another's monumental presence.

This was more than just 'cuddling'. It felt like devotion. Gestures of loyalty and faithfulness; proof of honest, wholesome love.

Ari stirred once more, raising his hand to his face and rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm. He groaned faintly, my ears knocked senseless by the sudden noise after having grown accustomed to the droning silence.

"...What time is it?" He mumbled in a slurred, breathless voice.

Realizing I hadn't checked my phone since last night, I weakly picked myself up from the bed, internally cursing Ari for making me leave our sweet embrace. Whatever, I'd do anything for him.