The sun spilled lazy gold through the open window, catching in the dust motes that drifted like fading thoughts. Billy and Artur lay tangled in the cushions, breath syncing, fingers tracing idle constellations on skin and cotton.
"They remained nestled together, breath syncing, fingers lazily drawing patterns on each other's skin."
Billy rested his head lightly on Artur's shoulder, his hand draped over his chest. Neither of them spoke for a few long moments, letting the peace stretch like honey.
Then, in the quiet, a faint grumble echoed between them.
Billy lifted his head, grinning. "Was that your stomach?"
Artur looked away with a small, embarrassed shrug. "Maybe."
Billy laughed, untangling himself and sitting up. "Alright, since you worked hard and didn't die from lifting those crates, I'll cook."
Artur reached for him, pulling him back down by the wrist. "Or… we could just stay like this a bit longer."
