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Morning Nookie For The Soul

By: LoneGirl



Readers are requested to go through my last couple of stories to get the hang of things.

――――――――――――

The sun rays trickling in through the half-drawn curtains greeted me into the morning, as I stirred from my sleep and exhaled deeply. Voices, vehicular noise and chirping of birds filtered into my ears as my sleep-heavy eyelids opened a little and took in the sight of the handsome man fast asleep beside me. 

A small smile crept on my lips and I reached out to run my fingers over his arm that was across my stomach. I loved to watch him sleep. The unkempt hair, the slightly parted lips, the sound of his breathing and his back and chest responding to it rhythmically... It was so utterly innocent yet sensuous at the same time. As I extended my face and kissed his forehead, I wondered what he'd think if he opened his eyes and found me staring at him. The thought made me laugh quietly.

Carefully removing his arm, I pushed the duvet aside and sat up, glancing at the time on the bedside clock as I did so. It was a little past nine, the usual time my sleep ended on winter mornings. Well, late winter. It was almost the mid of February but the cold was still persistent. I wouldn't say I hated winter but spring and summer were definitely better. Winter was nagging and gloomy― and triggered my Seasonal Affective Depression. I'd even pick the rains over the cold season any day.

I got down from bed and yawned, stretching my arms. After the party last night, I was tired and sleepy. But I was glad I had planned it. All the people who mattered to us were there, from his family to his friends to the lads. The food was great and I was so happy to have made all his favourite desserts― caramel custard, waffles, chocolate mousse. Okay, he baked the waffles. But then, he did make waffles better than me. They were the only thing he could bake.

I lazily dragged my feet across the carpet and went into the bathroom. About ten minutes later, when I exited, he was still sleeping in the same position. As much as I loved watching him sleep, I was aware they had a meeting with their manager that morning. It was an important meeting, an important tour. Their tenth anniversary tour.

Oh dear, was it ten years already? It felt like yesterday when my brother and my best friends were catapulted into the limelight, making celebrities out of the teenaged lads. A decade on, their place on the billboards and in the hearts of their followers was unchanged and unshakeable. They were there to rule for the longest time possible.

Hating to wake him up, I went to the window and pulled the curtains apart, allowing more of the soft winter sun to stream in through the closed panes. I looked over my shoulder and saw him squirming slightly. I tossed my waist-long hair across my shoulders and turned, the sight of his sleeping face making my stomach flip.

Even after all these years, I found it difficult to describe how handsome he was. He was five feet nine inches tall, moderately built, with dark brown curly hair, the most perfectly chiselled lips that would put any woman to shame and the sweetest face I'd ever seen on a man. And when he smiled (which was all the time practically), I felt like eating him up alive. At just five feet, I was way shorter than him but at the same time, he wasn't huge beside me either. It seemed like he was just made for me.

Of course, in their early days, all of them looked awfully stiff and awkward on stage or in the music videos. But there was no way to deny his sweetness. One smile was all that it would take him to melt hearts.

As I turned to walk out of the room, my eyes fell on the basket of laundry in one corner. Since he was still asleep, I decided to take care of the clothes in the meanwhile. Without any ado, I lifted the basket and went out to the master bathroom. I hummed to myself while I poured detergent into the almost-empty jar. I was happy to be where I was. They were playing Croke Park for the first time and I had designed the stage and conceptualised the documentary to be featured with the DVD. The half-finished album had been handled by my co-engineers after I needed to go for emergency surgery. When he came to the hospital to tell me that the single had debuted on No.1, I remember shedding tears of joy.

It was probably the first time that I realised how attached I was to the work I did.

My chain of thoughts was broken when I sensed him come up behind me. I looked over my shoulder and found him leaning against the door frame.

And then I remembered why he was watching me. He had meant to do the laundry.

"Stop staring," I snapped, turning around and putting two spoons of detergent into the machine, "I'm doing it because there was time."

He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded slowly, making him look a tad dangerous.

As if I cared.

"Instead of standing there, why don't you freshen up?" I said, closing the lid of the washing machine and pushing the buttons. "You remember about the meeting, don't you?"

"I do, I do," he yawned, coming in with slow steps. "But it's a lovely morning," he smiled sleepily, folding his arms around my waist, "I'd hate to leave you."

"It's important. The tour's a few weeks away. When does rehearsal begin?"

"Probably after we get back from LA. We'll decide that today."

I sighed and sank back into his arms, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine. He ran his fingers through my lustrous waves and twirled a few strands around his index finger. I was so glad I lived in Central London, close to most of the studios and other places we frequented for work. Most of the days, he'd stay back at my place instead of going to his house in Cobham.

He had been living in a rented flat in Surrey for a number of years before buying this lavish property in Cobham sometime ago. Although the house was in great shape, he was planning to give it a makeover and I was already looking at designs. He had a fascination for big, luxurious properties. His dream home in his native Ireland was also huge― and grand. He had also bought his parents a new house there. Though I loved the idea of having so many places to live in, I did not like Cobham. Central London too was an expensive place but Cobham just did not fit my lifestyle. It was the celebrity capital of London─ not to mention, half an hour away from my place─ and lacked the culture and ambience of a residential area. Whenever I stayed there, I spent all day at home. Everything seemed so high-profile and out of my league there.

But for some reason, he liked the place. He was a celebrity, after all. He could relate to that culture. I did not have much to say about it.

"Yesterday was amazing," he nuzzled my face with his, "I can't believe you planned it all, without letting me know."

"It wouldn't remain a surprise then, would it?" I twisted my neck and smiled up at him. "And I'm glad you let me do it. You hardly let me do anything now. I thought, if you find out, you wouldn't let me do this either."

"I do know you're not the lazy type," he chuckled, "If I were in your place, I wouldn't waste any opportunity to be in bed."

"I wouldn't want you to be in my place. Ever."

The seriousness in my voice made him lean in and kiss my head. I knew how tired we both were of the subject. We always consciously tried to keep my illness and everything it had brought along out of daily conversations.

"I'd let you do it," he said, "I would never break your heart."

"That's kind of you."

"And you looked beautiful. Of course, you always do."

I had lost count of the number of times I was told that the other day. But I could never grow tired of hearing it from him.

"I'd wanted to do it from a long time, actually," I murmured, "I wanted to thank everyone for all their help."

"You didn't need to, really. They are our own people."

"Yes, but without their help and support, I wouldn't be here today."

"Please." He spun me around and frowned. "Haven't I asked you not to say those things?"

"But it's true though. You would never be able to handle everything alone, would you?"

He sighed, enfolding me in his arms. "Yeah, that's true. I could sit by your bedside all day and not have to worry about anything else. The lads really helped so much."

He held one of my ear lobes and rubbed it between his fingers. "The worst part was probably shooting the music videos in that condition," he smiled softly, "That we were shooting for a song that talked about missing home didn't help."

"I was told that you almost cried," I teased.

"Almost is the keyword here," he laughed, "But yeah, I was emotional. I just wanted to be with you."

I kept my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. It had been so difficult for all of us. The very news of a cranial surgery had injected fear into the minds of everyone. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I took twelve days to revive, days that saw my condition fluctuating drastically. Given his celebrity status, the news hadn't taken long at all to circulate but the lads and the band's management had tactfully kept all information private. We appreciated the concern everyone― from the fans to the who's who of showbiz― showed for us but the least we could ask for at the time was privacy.

"And what is the surprise that you're planning?" I asked him, smiling mischievously.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I tell you," he chuckled.

"You can drop some hints..."

"You're an extremely clever woman, kitten. If I drop hints, you'll immediately put two and two together and figure out. Hence, lips are sealed."

Devil, I thought. A devil with a sweet smile, but a devil nonetheless.

"You must hurry," I looked up at him, the sense of time suddenly returning to me, "I'll go and fix breakfast in the meanwhile. And then I also have to take off the decorations."

"Don't you dare touch them," he announced, "I'm going to take them off."

I couldn't believe my ears. Being the youngest in the family, he had always been the pampered sort, who'd never had to do any household chore. Add to that his laziness and it was impossible to make him do any kind of chore. He was too lazy to even wear shirts because he'd have to iron them and button them. One would find him in t-shirts when the other lads were in shirts.

My ailment had changed a lot of his ways. He'd stay home on off days and give me time instead of heading out to clubs. He had made my house his own a long time ago but now he'd also take care of all the chores. Not that he did them excellently but the fact that he tried to help meant so much to me.

"But you're going to your place," I pointed out.

"Then I'll do it tomorrow. I have an off-day." He looked down at my face. "You will not touch them, understand?"

I sighed again and shook my head in exasperation. Winter mornings were an absolute waste. The sun took an inordinate amount of time to show up properly and it wasn't till nine that I managed to get myself out of the warm, cosy bed. And then after breakfast and other chores, when I finally sat down to write, I realised it was almost time for lunch and the sun would set in a few hours. In short, my morning would go by without letting me do anything worthwhile.

I seriously had no intention to waste any more time arguing with him.

"But that would be good, you know," I giggled, "The later we take off the decorations, the longer the birthday mood will last."

He laughed out, so did I. Reaching a hand around him, I cupped the back of his neck. "What do you want for breakfast?" I asked him.

"You," he leaned in and ghosted his lips against mine, "I think I'm still full from all that food last night. I'd rather take care of my other appetites in the meanwhile."

Before I could ask what his intentions were, he covered my mouth with his, kissing me full and deep. He teased, flicking his tongue across mine, then catching my bottom lip between his teeth and pressing down softly. I moaned against my will, my hands fisting the hem of his t-shirt. That man did know how to kiss. And he did it like he did everything else― with dedication, precision and devastating skill.

As I felt his hands running down the back of my thighs and softly squeezing my butts, I felt myself melting into the kiss. Not surprisingly, our very first kiss was in the studio― in the spare room they used to take naps in. Nervous though I was, it had taken him zero effort to make me yield. He was honesty personified. He never promised anything he knew he couldn't deliver, he always thought before acting and reacting and his words were sincere and true. Not the usual pop star material, perhaps, but definitely the material you could trust. A broken woman like me could trust. Barring those early times when he had to lie about our relationship in public for obvious reasons, he had never played with my feelings.

"Join me in the shower," he murmured against my lips. The innocent flashbacks running through my mind were halted by the not-so-innocent request from him.

"In the shower?" I pulled away and asked, as if I hadn't heard it the first time.

"Hmm-mm. It's been a while."

"Since you showered?"

"With you."

I frowned. "You'll be late."

"I'm never late for anything, kitten," he tried to appease me, "Please, you should know that by now." He paused and smirked. "And I guess, after all that food and drink last night, we all are going to be late today. I bet your beloved Markie and his Kevvy pie, along with their sweet little Saffy are still amid dreams downstairs."

I couldn't help laughing at that. Mark was our friend and one-fifth of the band who lived on the first floor of the duplex with his partner and their dog. He was famous for being late all the time. He was the last to arrive at the party yesterday even though he lived in the same building.

He let me out of his arms and stepped back to take off his t-shirt. I watched him, uneasily shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

"What?" he raised an eyebrow, "You can't shower clothed."

I bit my lips and looked away, trying to hide the bashful look on my face. I always had a hard time undressing in front of him. He was the only ever person who got to see my exposed skin. Things were easier during lovemaking. In the heat of passion, we never realised when and how clothes were discarded. It was during normal times like these that my shyness returned.

"I was thinking," he came closer and put a finger under my chin, tilting my face to look at it, "Why don't you go in first? I'll brush my teeth and join you in a minute."

I gave him a grateful smile and nodded. He tossed his t-shirt across his shoulder and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there like a fool.

For god's sake, we had been together for six years!

I took a look at the washing machine and slowly walked towards the shower, taking off my t-shirt as I opened the door and stepped in. turning on the tabs for warm water, I slid off my pyjamas and knickers and closed the door. The water made me flinch at first but I slowly adjusted, allowing myself to soak in the warmth. I was glad we were different from those people who showered annually. I preferred to remain clean and showered once a day in all seasons. And given his profession, he had no choice but to do the same. During concerts, he'd shower twice a day sometimes, since he got all sweaty after a show.

I laughed to myself when I thought what a disaster it would be if I had to live with a man who hated to shower.

I heard the shower door open and without turning, I saw his shadow on the wall before me.

"What's funny?" he asked, coming up behind me and pulling me close so that my back rested against his chest.

"I'm just glad you like to remain clean," I laughed again, "I can't stand people who don't wash every day."

"That would be the majority of the London population," he chuckled, nuzzling the curve between my neck and shoulder with his face. "You feel amazing, by the way."

He let his hands wander all over my body, tracing the curve of my narrow waist and small hips. I was ticklish, but over the years, I'd got used to his touch. I no longer squirmed when he held me.

"I can't believe how sexy you are," he mumbled against my face, "You make me go into testosterone overload everytime I have you like this with me."

"I still don't understand what you find so sexy about me," I gave a small smile in reply, "I mean, you've seen me at my ugliest. How can you find me sexy after nursing me through illnesses and cleaning up when I've been sick?"

"What has that got to do with feeling passion for someone?" He turned me around and pressed me against his chest. "Passion isn't conditional. It isn't about how a person looks and how well-dressed or well-groomed they are. It's about how that person makes you feel."

Running a finger down my arm, he kissed my shoulder. "There's something about you," he whispered, "It's hard to describe. From your smile, your eyes, your hair to your disposition, your intelligence, the way you think, the way you carry yourself with poise, your warm and kind soul... The way you talk... so insightful, intelligent, thoughtful. The way you care about people. The love and respect you show everybody. And then there's a little bit of mystery about you. I know, you'd think since I know everything about you, I shouldn't be saying that, but believe me, there's something in the depths of those eyes, in that quiet smile... You have no idea how sensual you are even in the most ordinary circumstances. Even when you're not naked, when you're fully clothed, or even those times when you think you look ugly, you manage to make me break into a sweat..."

He looked at my face and giggled. "And for that matter, you have nursed me through bad days, bad body aches after those dance routines and even bad colds. Has that changed how you feel about me?"

It hadn't, really. If anything, then those times had only managed to bring us closer. We did know how to make even the most mundane situations interesting.

I exhaled and dropped my face against his shoulder, feeling his strong arms holding me tight against him as the warm, soothing water poured on us. He showered my skin with soft, warm caresses, his hands, lips and tongue doing wonders to my self-control. I pressed myself against his legs and felt his length poking my stomach. He was semi-hard and it took me all the restraint I had to stop myself from grabbing him with both hands.

I winced when he squeezed my breasts and he immediately pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said a little tentatively, "Did that hurt?"

"No... I mean... I'm ovulating... my breasts are... tender," I trailed off and hid my face in his chest. He laughed softly and ran his fingers through my wet hair.

"You seriously don't need to be embarrassed," he said, "If I remember correctly, I have dressed and undressed you, I've explored every nook and crevice of your body over the years, I've taken care of your intimate needs, and I've also helped you in the bath."

He lifted my face and stared into my eyes. "When there's nothing left to hide, why be embarrassed?"

It was true. I had nothing to hide from him. Never had. 

I had had a terrible childhood. Yes, terrible was the word. My teens weren't any different. Nobody had ever cared about me. I was always at the receiving end of brickbats, taunts, and humiliation, not to mention other more terrifying things that had left me scarred- emotionally, mentally, physically.

So when this polite, kind, funny and extremely caring lad came into my life and loved and accepted me for who I was, I thought it was just a good dream that would end. I had never known what it felt like to be loved. Before him, nobody had ever inquired about me, tried to find out how I was doing or scolded me for not taking care of myself. 

Most of all, nobody had ever made me feel special. He did. He made me feel that he needed, wanted me in his life and that he'd be incomplete without me. That someone found me important and had reserved a special part of his soul for me was more than I could ever imagine in my wildest dreams― and my dreams could get very wild.


Morning Nookie For The Soul



And for once, I was even ready to be scolded by him. It made me realise there was somebody who cared about me.

"What are you thinking?" he smiled, removing my hair from my face.

I gave him a watery smile and sagged against the wall behind me. "When I was in school, I used to look at the brilliant students and wonder, 'Their families must be so proud of them.' And then I'd think, 'What do I have to do so that my family is proud of me?'"

"You were a gifted singer and writer, kitten," he soothed, coming closer and framing me with his hands, "You were a million times more talented than those students. Where are they now while you're with the most successful band in recent history?"

"It didn't matter to them," I said brokenly, biting back my tears, "The trophies, the applause, the accolades...nothing mattered. I'd always be a wretched thing to them..."

I hung my head and squeezed my eyes shut, the tears running down my face despite my best efforts to stop them. His arms circled my small body and held me tight against his chest.

"Their loss," he murmured, a tinge of anger in his gentle voice, "They were fools to not value you." He held one of my hands and kissed the back of it. "But all that is gone now. I value you more than anything else. We all do. And besides, my family is your family now," he added, "Mom always wanted a strong, capable daughter like you. Mairead is... well, you know how she is."

My tears changed into a soft giggle at those last words. His elder sister Mairead was a disaster, no matter what she tried to do. From baking a cake to looking after her retail business, she was miserable at everything.

"Yes," I looked up at him, "Had it not been for you, her business would've never taken off."

He lovingly ran his fingers across my face and kissed my forehead.

"You were the one who helped bring the business from Sligo to Galway," he said, "With me away most of the time, it would be impossible without you." He pressed me to his chest and smirked. "No wonder, you are dearer to her than me."

"No," I shook my head, "You're her brother. You mean more to her."

"You're saying that because you were never bullied into having horrible banana shake― the price I paid for being the youngest in the house."

I laughed and kissed his chest, circling my arms around his body and holding him tight. Oh god, I loved him so much, I could drown in it.

I stepped out of the shower for just a little while and returned with a bottle of shower gel.

"Lean against the wall, kind sir," I smiled, pushing him until his back touched the tiled wall of the bathroom. Without any word of protest, he obeyed, allowing me to lather his body. I had a hard time keeping my hands off his nether region while I soaped him up in slow, soothing motions. I heard contented sighs leaving his lips, his hands occasionally caressing my head.

Kissing one of his erect nipples, I let my soapy fingers wander lower his body, finding his hard length. I saw his head tip back, as my fingers wrapped around his shaft and gently pulled the foreskin back. He gasped, his parted lips looking totally fuckable.

"Oh baby..." he sighed aloud, trying in vain to grab the wall.

"Yes?" I asked innocently, trying to keep myself from laughing as I set up a slow, teasing rhythm.

"Are you... sure you want to... do this here?"

"Where else then?"

"No, I mean― Ugh!"

He growled my name, as I circled my thumb around the head and pressed against the slit. Pre-cum leaked onto my hand and I could barely ignore the dull ache between my thighs. I dipped my thumb into his slit on an upward stroke and felt his breathing get more laboured. He had no idea how sexy he looked, naked, wet, and possessed with pleasure. His sac tightened, his shaft swelled, and his face contorted.

"I'm close..." he panted, "Pull away, kitten..."

"Let it go," I spoke against his chest, never ceasing to stroke him, "Come for me, please."

I raked my nails against his balls, feeling how heavy they were. I pressed and pulled and stroked, making him explode in my hands, amid the soap and steam. I continued to stroke him, his moans and the grimace of agonised pleasure on his face making me come as well. I felt hot creamy liquid streaming down my thighs as I milked him dry but I kept from crying out. My body jerked and I sagged against him, but I wasn't sure he noticed my orgasm. After several seconds, when I was sure he had nothing more to give, I let go off him, standing on tip-toe and kissing his lips. Heavy breathing and gratified sighs filled the shower.

"Okay, so what was that?" he finally spoke on a breath, his eyes now open and staring into space.

"Nothing," I giggled, washing him up. "Did you like it?"

"You catch me unawares all the time, baby," he laughed, spinning us around and pressing me against the wall, "Who could tell that beneath this seemingly innocent exterior lies a seductive wanton?"

"Really, Mr Bedsport?" I arched an eyebrow, "No one could guess that about you either, with your sweet smile and all."

"Don't tell me. I wonder why they haven't named you Ms Insatiable."

We laughed and he pressed his body against mine, nuzzling my neck with his face. His hands travelled lower and he found my centre, still wet and throbbing from the orgasm.

"You came with me?" he asked, without lifting his face from my neck, "That's naughty of you."

I flushed for a moment, but then relaxed. "Ah, well," I sighed, "I couldn't help myself."

"Oh, don't do. You must always let yourself go, whenever the opportunity arises."

We laughed again, sharing a deep, meaningful kiss. He turned off the shower and reached out for a towel, wrapping me in it. I melted into his arms again, purring softly. I felt him kissing my neck, licking his way up to my ear and catching a lobe between his teeth. His mouth went back to my shoulder and he nibbled at the skin, all the while wiping me dry with the towel.

"Never belittle yourself," he spoke against my ear, "The fact that you're alive is your biggest success."

He held my face with one hand and looked into my eyes. I felt myself age a couple of years as I held his gaze.

"They did so much to you," he murmured, tears sprouting in his eyes, "They left you for dead... but they couldn't kill you. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met― and I've met a lot of women over the years. No one even comes close to you."

He kissed me again. "Never think low of yourself again. You're amazing and you must start believing it."

I just smiled quietly, grabbing a towel and wiping him dry.

"Tomorrow's my MRI," I found it important to remind him, "You―"

"Of course, I'm coming along. What else have I taken the day off for? And don't be worried. It's going to be fine. I'm so sure."

"When you appear more worried than me."

"Well, I guess I'm always worried about you." He laughed. "Force of habit. I'll ask your doctor if you can go over to non-steroid medications. The side-effects trouble you so much."

I nodded, silently agreeing with him. The first two months after my surgery were a nightmare. The medicines would barely let sleep, I'd keep dropping things and the nausea made me throw up after every meal. But he had seen me through, with his patient, loving care. I was sure I'd never survive without him.

"Yeah, I'd like to sleep without the sleeping pills," I said softly.

"You don't need the sleeping pills with me around, do you?"

Laughing, I shook my head and tugged at the towel around his neck. "Do we still have time for breakfast?"

He kissed the top of my nose and smiled. "I think we do."

About fifteen minutes later, I was seeing him off at the door. We'd had a hurried breakfast of eggs on toast and he now looked dashing as always in his all-black attire─ jeans, jumper, jacket.

"I'll call you later, okay?" he said, fixing his boots, "And don't stay up for me if you feel sleepy."

"I'm going to go to your house and tidy things up," I said quietly. "I saw it in a mess three days go. I'll also take your washed clothes along."

"If I could let you do that, I'd let you take off the decorations too." He mock glared at me. "You're not supposed to strain yourself."

"I won't. I'll just properly arrange things and maybe do a little bit of vacuuming."

"It's a big house. You can't―"

"I'll be careful."

His shoulders drooped and he came closer. "I won't be late," he smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek, "Call me if you need anything."

He looked over his shoulder at the staircase. "I hope Mark is awake. We could go together."

I nodded, giving him a small smile. I hated to see him go. The house seemed empty without him. He coiled an arm around my waist and kissed my forehead, before starting to sing.

"We've had our fun,
We've made mistakes,
But who'd have guessed along that road
We'd learn to give and take...
It's so much more than I could have dreamed,
'Cause you make loving you, so easy for me..."

We stared into each other's eyes for about a minute. Then he broke the gaze, gave me a quick kiss on the lips and turned around.

"I'll see you at my place," he called out, waving a kiss at me as he climbed down the stairs. "I love you!"

I leaned against the door and laughed my lungs out. I was sure Mark and Kevin had heard that and so had the guards downstairs. But I didn't mind. I would never grow tired of his playfulness. It was what kept me going.

We made an odd couple. He laughed all the time and I remained pensive all the time. But like everyone said, we made two perfect halves of a whole.

"I love you too!" I called back, craning my neck down the railing. His signature laughter echoed down the stairway, and as I closed the door and leaned against it, my heart throbbed violently in my bosom.

Life was full and good and blessed. And as long as our love remained, it would be that way. Forever.