They climb into bed, Rowan on the left and Mal on the right, again so natural and uncomplicated that Rowan questions why he was ever worried about them working out in the first place.

They face each other, talking about nothing important as their eyelids droop closed and the promise of sleep takes them. Mal leans forward, drawing Rowan into a simple kiss that makes Rowan melt.

Mal rolls onto his other side, letting Rowan wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close against his chest. Rowan feels him sigh before relaxing completely into the mattress, warm and pliable and the best thing Rowan’s ever felt in his arms.

Like that, they fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

WHEN ROWAN wakes in the morning, it’s the warmest he’s ever felt.

For a brief moment, it doesn’t register why he feels this way, until he tries to turn over onto his side and is greeted with Mal’s peaceful face. Mal’s right arm is flung across Rowan’s stomach, curling protectively around his side. His face is nuzzled into Rowan’s shoulder, one cheek smooshed up so his lips are parted slightly, a thin wisp of drool in the corner. Hair ruffled within an inch of its life.

He’s by far the most beautiful thing Rowan’s ever seen, and he looks his fill to commit every part of this moment to memory.

Gently he brushes a lock of hair away from Mal’s forehead, the thin golden strips of light streaming in from the windows illuminating his perfect face. The action makes him stir, a soft trilling moan of sleepiness rising up from the back of his throat.

“Morning,” Rowan whispers, voice scratchy with disuse.

“Mmm, mornin’,” Mal rumbles back.

Rowan runs a hand through Mal’s soft hair, strands sliding silkily through his fingers. With a shudder that racks his entire body, he realizes he wants to wake up like this every single day for the rest of his life.

He cups Mal’s chin and draws him in, when Mal stops him.

“Mmf, I’ve got morning breath, man,” Mal complains, hand over his mouth.

“Don’t care. Been waiting forever to kiss you.”

Mal does not, in fact, taste like morning breath. He tastes like nothing much at all and too much all at once. Tastes like Mal, and Rowan thinks that it might be his new favorite taste.

They kiss slow and languid, Rowan running his tongue along the seam of Mal’s lips before delving inside, licking behind his teeth. Mal moans, opening his mouth wider as he melts into the kiss. After a lifetime, Mal pulls away.

“Rowan, want you….”

“I got you, Mal.”

Rowan kisses him once again before coaxing Mal to roll over onto his side, his ass pressed firmly against Rowan’s morning wood. With a little finagling, they work their briefs off in a tangle of limbs, Mal pressing back against Rowan and grinding his ass into Rowan’s hard cock. It sends a pulse of desire through Rowan, making him buck his hips forward.