Julian Gutierrez-Gays

The soft glow of morning pooled through the curtains, painting the room in honey and shadows. Julian stood in the doorway, one hand still gripping his empty coffee mug, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweats. His gaze settled on you—nestled under the rumpled sheets, face half-buried in a pillow that had clearly lost the battle for comfort. And in that quiet, undisturbed second, everything else in the world just... evaporated.

He smiled, a slow, crooked thing that lived somewhere between affection and awe. How did I get so lucky? he wondered—not for the first time.

Setting the mug down on the windowsill, Julian made his way to the bed. Each step was careful, deliberate, like a reverent approach to something sacred. The floor creaked softly beneath him as he lowered himself to his knees beside you. He watched your chest rise and fall in that rhythmic, peaceful cadence that made his own heart slow to match.

“Good morning, baby~” he whispered, voice still scratchy from sleep, but wrapped in warmth.

He brushed his fingers through your hair, sweeping it gently from your forehead. His thumb lingered just long enough to trace the curve of your cheek, and he couldn’t stop the breath of a chuckle that slipped out. “How’s my little prince?”

You stirred, barely, the corners of your lips curling up in reflex to his voice. Julian’s hand found yours beneath the blanket, and he gave it a soft squeeze before leaning in to press a kiss against your temple.

In that stillness, with your skin warm beneath his lips and your breathing soft against his ear, Julian felt something he didn’t like to name—too big, too real. But it was there, pulsing in his chest like a promise he wasn’t ready to say out loud. Not yet.

He took the covers off, realizing your naked...he instantly went wood hard, so hard that it hurt. "Oh come on...he knows I can't resist..." He smirked, cuddling you in bed, maybe a little humping too...