Chapter 4: Your Shirt Smells Like Me This Morning, Sweetie

Chapter 4: Your Shirt Smells Like Me This Morning, Sweetie

Jules lay back against the pillows, her lips still tingling, hair slightly tousled, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her fingers brushed over the faint red marks Aria left across her skin. Aria’s scent clung to her neck, her jaw, the inside of her thighs — sweet and heated and slightly floral, like her body was made of sunlight and soft hunger.

She didn’t want to move. Not yet. Not when Aria was still so close, still panting lightly beside her, flushed and glowing, lips parted like she was tasting the aftershocks of what they just did.

Aria stayed there a moment, cheek resting against Jules’ bare shoulder, fingers tracing lazy, meaningless shapes over her stomach. Neither of them spoke. There was no need. The room felt heavier now, wrapped in heat and something softer — something closer to peace than either of them usually touched.

Then Aria murmured, “I’ll make you something.”

Jules hummed, eyes still barely open. “Food?”

Aria nodded, pushing herself up gently, hair falling around her like a curtain. “Yeah. You’ll need it after… that.”

Before she left the bed, Aria leaned back down and caught Jules’ lips again. It wasn’t a soft goodbye kiss. It was slow, wet, deep — the kind of kiss that made time freeze.

Their mouths moved in perfect rhythm, tongues brushing lightly before Aria pulled back just a little, lips still touching, a small thread of saliva stretching between them before it broke. Jules reached up like she didn’t want to let her go yet, but Aria just smirked and whispered, “Later.”

Jules stayed there, watching her.

As Aria walked toward the kitchen, she peeled off the hoodie and her pants, tossing them onto the nearby chair with little care. She didn’t want the smell of food clinging to them. She kicked her socks off too. With her back turned, Jules sat up a little and watched, her throat tightening at the casual sensuality of it all.

Aria moved without thinking — completely unaware of how every motion made Jules bite her lip. Her skin was flushed and soft from their earlier closeness, and when she reached down to grab something off the floor, Jules could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. She hadn’t even realized she slipped into Jules’ oversized shirt, the one Jules wore around the apartment, grey and thin with slightly stretched sleeves.

It hit just under her hips, barely covering her panties. The way it hung off her shoulder made Jules swear under her breath.

She wanted to pull her right back into bed. But she knew Aria needed food.

Aria, now fully dressed in just the oversized shirt and a thin pair of panties, opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients. She didn’t need to ask what Jules liked. She remembered.

She started with thick slices of brioche bread, dipping them in a mix of egg, vanilla, cinnamon, and cream. She heated butter on the pan until it foamed and dropped the slices in, letting them crisp up golden brown. She sliced strawberries, sautéed them in maple syrup and a pinch of sea salt until they were glossy and sweet.

She cracked eggs into another pan, over easy just the way Jules liked, and threw a few slices of thick bacon into the oven to roast while she worked. She chopped scallions, whisked cream cheese and herbs into soft scrambled eggs, and plated everything like it mattered.

Jules walked in quietly, still bare from the waist up, hair messy, skin glowing, leaning against the kitchen entryway watching her cook.

“God, you’re sexy,” she said.

Aria turned, holding a spatula, a little flushed from the stove. “I’m literally sweating over eggs.”

“And still hot.”

Jules walked over behind her, arms wrapping around Aria’s waist. Aria didn’t even flinch. She leaned back into the contact, smiling to herself.

“I’m serious,” Jules murmured against her neck. “This is dangerous. Oversized shirt. No bra. Legs out. Cooking breakfast for me like a dream I shouldn’t deserve.”

“Stop,” Aria whispered, smirking. “Let me finish this or we won’t eat.”

Jules groaned softly, biting Aria’s shoulder playfully before stepping back. “Fine. But I’m watching you.”

Aria plated everything, pouring two mugs of coffee, and set the table by the window. They ate mostly in silence, only soft murmurs of satisfaction between bites. Jules moaned around a piece of French toast, licking syrup off her thumb. Aria just smiled, cheeks slightly pink, eyes lowered as she sipped her coffee.

When they were finished, Aria stood and began clearing the plates. Jules stretched in her chair, content.

Aria stood at the sink, water running as she rinsed the plates. Her hips swayed slightly as she moved — just a casual rhythm to her body. She wasn’t trying to be sexy. She was just being.

Jules watched her. Eyes narrowed. Hunger building again in her chest.

Aria didn’t even notice the footsteps. She was focused on the last plate, reaching over for the sponge when she felt hands on her waist. A second later, warm lips found her neck. She gasped softly.

“Jules —”

The sucking was firm, immediate. Her breath caught in her throat.

“We just did this,” she whispered, squirming against her. “We just — ah —”

Before she could get the words out, Jules turned her around, pushing her gently back against the counter, lips crashing into hers. The kiss was rougher this time. Deeper. Tongue sliding in without hesitation. Aria moaned into it, gripping Jules’ shoulders, her knees weakening just as Jules’ hand slid down the front of her panties.

Two fingers slipped in, already soaked. Aria’s hips jerked and she gasped into Jules’ mouth.

“Jules — hmmm —”

Jules didn’t answer. She was already pumping, slow but deep, watching every reaction cross Aria’s face.

Aria lifted one leg and wrapped it around Jules’ waist for leverage, her body trembling with each motion. Her breath came in short gasps, mouth parted, her nails digging into Jules’ skin.

“This is bad,” Aria whispered. “We talked about this.”

Jules smirked. “You’re not dating anyone. You’re mine. Let me have you.”

Aria couldn’t form words. Her hips were moving in rhythm now, chasing the pressure, her insides clenching around Jules’ fingers.

“You’re soaking,” Jules whispered. “You wanted this. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Aria whimpered, nodding, head falling back as her leg tightened around Jules.

Jules angled her fingers just right and Aria cried out. Her body shook, thighs tensing, and when she came, it gushed — hot, intense, messy. Jules didn’t stop. She only pulled her fingers out to lift Aria onto the counter, spreading her legs wider. She kissed her deeply again, one hand gripping Aria’s thigh, the other sliding back in.

Aria’s lips were swollen, eyes fluttering, her voice soft and breathless.

“Jules… more. Please —”

Jules didn’t say anything. She just dipped her head, pulling Aria’s shirt up, exposing her chest. She began to suck — slow, rough, wet — her tongue swirling over each nipple before sucking them harder. Aria cried out again, her body jolting every time Jules hit that rhythm inside.

Her moans filled the kitchen. Raw, unfiltered, needy.

“Jules, I — God, I’m gonna — again —” Aria sobbed, her fingers tangling in Jules’ hair. “I can’t stop…”

Jules loved it. Loved how soft Aria became under her. How wild. How real.

Her fingers pumped faster, deeper, her mouth devouring Aria’s chest as Aria came again and again, sobbing now, gasping between broken versions of Jules’ name.

Then her body slumped, exhausted. Her back curved like a bow, her arms shaking, eyes fluttering shut.

She zoned out for a moment.

Jules didn’t panic. She cradled her gently, brushing hair from her face, pressing soft kisses along her jaw until Aria stirred again. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Still here?” she whispered.

“Always,” Jules said softly, stroking her back.

Aria leaned in and kissed her — sweet this time. Unhurried. Like she was telling her thank you without needing the words.

She pressed her forehead to Jules’ shoulder, breathing her in. They stood there for a while, the scent of coffee and syrup still lingering in the air. The rest of the dishes could wait. The world could wait.

Because in this kitchen, in this morning light, they had each other.

And it was more than enough.

Aria finally pulled away from Jules’ shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles along the curve of Jules’ spine. The sunlight filtering through the window caught the soft glow of sweat on Jules’ skin, making everything feel warmer, softer, somehow more sacred.

Jules looked down at her, eyes dark and full of promise. “You know, your shirt smells like me this morning, sweetie.”

Aria’s lips curled into a slow smile, the kind that held both mischief and something deeper — something tender and unspoken. “I’m not mad about that.”

Jules reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Aria’s face, her touch feather - light but electric. “You smell like everything I want right now.”

The room was quiet except for their breathing, slow but steady, hearts still beating a little faster than before. Aria’s cheeks flushed as she moved closer, her hand slipping beneath Jules’ shirt to rest flat on the smooth curve of her sides.

“I keep thinking about your lips,” Aria whispered, voice low and rough with need. “The way you kissed me… like I was the only thing in the world.”

Jules smiled, leaning in until her breath ghosted over Aria’s skin. “Because you are. Right now, you’re mine.”

Aria’s eyes fluttered closed, her body already responding to the heat spreading through her again. “I want that. I want you.”

Jules cupped her face, their eyes locking, that magnetic pull between them growing impossible to resist. “Then don’t wait.”

Aria shivered as Jules pressed her mouth back to hers, this kiss slower, deeper, a silent promise that whatever this was — it was just the beginning.

Their hands roamed freely, discovering and claiming, every touch lighting a fire beneath their skin. Clothes fell away again, forgotten on the floor like they never mattered, and they melted into each other with no hesitation, no doubts.

The morning stretched on around them, the world outside fading until there was only the sound of their whispers, their moans, their laughter tangled in the sheets.

And in that room — in Jules’ arms, in the warmth of their shared skin — Aria finally let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could be exactly who she was meant to be.