Morning Medley
by Buffonia


For almost the first time ever, Dom's fingers are sticky from inexperience. He wasn't entirely confident in working the juicer and now he has the fruit residue all over his hands to prove it. But he's quite proud of the four ounce cup that he carries up the stairs to Billy; it's half full and it only took Dom seven oranges and five tries. Still, he's damn proud.

The glass' bright contents are tempting and Dom's worked up quite a thirst with all the cutting and pressing of produce. He takes a tangy sip, letting the liquid cover his tongue. Some citrus gives pause on a cut at the tip, a tiny battle wound from Billy's teeth last night. Dom would hate the sting if the reminder weren't so sweet.

Only one mouthful has survived the harrowing journey from kitchen to bedside. Billy's already awake, though he hasn't moved from the comfortable position of sleeping on his stomach. Lavender sheets are bundled around the curve of his waist and his right cheek is nestled into the pillow; his groggy, green gaze has settled on Dom. Billy takes his cue to sit up when Dom offers him the near empty glass.

"What's this?" Billy sniffs the glass with a frown.

"Orange juice," says Dom, prideful tone in tact despite the meager offerings.

Billy downs the drink and smacks his lips dramatically. "Delicious. Now where's the rest?"

"That's the lot of it." Dom is distracted momentarily by the texture of his own hands, rubbing the thumbpads in circles over his fingtertips. He frowns as the skin catches on itself and causes a sticky friction. "Well, most of it."

"Give it, then," says Billy with a jovial growl. Pulling Dom onto him by the wrist, he gives a generous lick of Dom's palm, suckling the tip of a thumb.

Dom groans and replaces hand with mouth, biting Bill's tongue in friendly revenge for the previous night.


Honey Glazed

"Night's gone," is the first thought to push at Liv's headache. The sun is shining rudely through her initial awakening blinks and she winces at the blinding morning light before turning over.

Sean's mouth hangs open in a slight snore as a thin trail of drool slowly escapes from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Liv giggles at the boyish sight of him, so far from the aggressive alpha male role he took on last night.

She wriggles through the sandwich of sheets and presses into him. "Mister Bean," sing-songs Liv in an airy tone. "Mister Be-ean..."

He grumbles something half-coherent and turns away while flopping an arm over his face to shield his eyes with the soft underside of his elbow. Liv giggles again and slides out of the bed after a brief stretching of her long limbs.

It's a short walk from the bed to the vanity sink and Liv glances over the many scented soaps that the hotel offers until she finds a suitable fragrance. She rubs the little bar of mint juniper under the running water and curiously eyes a box of fresh pastries to her left. All is made clear as Cate emerges from the bathroom fully clothed and brushing her hair.

Liv smiles warmly as her memories materialize and Cate places a gentle kiss on Liv's cheek. The smell of cream and fruit brings Liv's attention to the open box and she bends over to closely asses the contents of it.

"Mmm..." Liv breathes in the sugary perfume and is careful to not let her long hair fall into the frosting. "Do you want an eclair or a honey glazed doughnut?"

"Honey glazed," purrs Cate on tiptoe, weightlessly draping herself over the curve of Liv's backside, her lips to Liv's ear. "If you please."



"Please don't." Karl tugs at Viggo's elbow, pulling Viggo back down to his grassy seat beside Karl.

"I was just getting the coffee," says Viggo. His eyes are red but still twinkling from his grin.

"It can wait." Karl watches the light of the newly risen sun as it floods the fields of the ranch. "Stay."

Viggo obliges and stretches out his legs, crossing ankle over ankle in habitual comfort. "But if we aren't getting coffee then I hope we're actually going to bed at one point."

"It was your idea to watch the sun set, Vig," Karl pointedly replies. He hugs his knees and fights a yawn. The yawn wins.

"And it was yours to watch it rise again." Viggo's grin widens lazily before becoming infected with Karl's yawn.

"Maybe we could use that coffee," Karl sighs, laying his cheek on his kneecaps and watching Viggo's eyes blink heavily with the hope of sleep. He's sure his own are doing the same.

"Or at least go to bed," Viggo cites the second option optimistically.

"And sleep the day away?"

"Maybe." Somehow finding the energy to move again, Viggo's hand comes to rest in Karl's hair, picking some dried grass out of the loose ponytail. "Unless you could give me something to stay up for."


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