I don't even have to turn around to know he's going for the orange juice. It never fails. As quickly as I can, I grab a glass from the dishwasher I'm emptying and whip around to hand it to him before he...
"Goddamn it, Edward. Every time. Why can't you..."
I trail off as I get a good look at him. He's just come in from mowing the lawn; his hair is sticking up in every direction, his face is flushed and rivulets of sweat run down from his hairline. His shirt is sticking to his chest and the arm that is raised to hold the carton of juice to his mouth is flexed just slightly.
Oh fuck.
His eyes meet mine over the container of juice. "Oops," he says with a guilty smile that is still somehow hot. "Sorry."
I watch a droplet of juice run down his chin as I step toward him. "Oh, Edward," I say with a sigh as I hook a finger in his belt loop and yank him toward me. "Don't be sorry. Just be naked."
I lick the droplet of juice from his chin, its sweetness mingling with the salt of his sweat. As I palm him through the rough fabric of his jeans, I consider that maybe I should ease up on him about the drinking from the carton thing.
Some habits die hard, after all.
Happy birthday, bb! Hope your day is full of pretty boys drinking orange juice and secksing pretty girls against lockers. Thank you for all you do in the fandom, and for being so pretty all the time. It really helps the atmosphere around here.
Hope you enjoyed this little slice of OJward. :)
xxoo
~T
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