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As Bojan started to stir awake, his eyes still closed, he pressed himself closer to the body lying next to him.
Jure was lying on his back, his boyfriend half on top of him, basically clinging to the blond like a baby koala.
Bojan loved being this close to him, the two of them in just their boxers, warm skins pressed against each other.
But another thing he also loved was watching Jure sleep peacefully - or just watching him in general, but who can blame him? His boyfriend really was a work of art - so he decided to open his eyes slowly.
Carefully, he propped himself on his shoulder and took in the sight in front of him.
The singer absolutely adored the way their bodies were so different, yet they completed each other like they were two pieces of the same puzzle.
He loved the contrast between Jure's skinny frame and his slightly softer one. He loved the contrast between Jure's pale skin and his slightly more tanned skin. Between the few moles that could be seen on his torso and the large number of freckles that adorned the older's skin. Between his chocolate brown eyes and the other's eyes as blue as the spring sky.
Bojan's eyes were roaming all over his body until they came to a stop at his face.
Jure's hair was messy, blond streaks sticking up in different directions, his face relaxed and his lips slightly parted, and God, he is gorgeous.
Bojan can't resist anymore. He quickly but gently got on top of his boyfriend, straddling his hips.
With his hands he starts stroking Jure's soft hair and, at the same time, he bends down until he is face to face with him. He starts kissing him all over his face, from his forehead to his chin, passing by his eyelids, cheeks and nose.
Seeing that the drummer still showed no sign of being awake, Bojan made his way to his lips and began to leave little pecks.
Still nothing.
Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, Bojan thought to himself before biting Jure's nose.
“What the fuck, Bojan?” Jure said, suddenly very awake, his blue eyes wide open in shock.
“Good morning, sonček,” Bojan smiled, making him scrunch his nose when he kissed it again.
“Well, no good morning to you. Bad puppy,” Jure said, faking annoyance. “I'm going to sleep again.”
Bojan pouted. “Guess I'll have to keep kissing you then.” And so he did, pampering his face with kisses.
"Stop!" Jure giggled. “You're tickling me.”
“Never. You're too cute.”
The brunet went for his mouth again, kissing both corners, then his upper lip – right on his mole – and finally his bottom lip.
Jure accepted defeat and reciprocated the kiss, soft and tender.
"Your lips are so soft, I can't stop wanting to feel them on mine. Or on me, for that matter," whispered Bojan against his lips, kissing them again.
“Oh.” The drummer's hands quickly found their place in his face, trying to hide the small blush that began to cover his pale cheeks. “Bojč you can't just... say things like that.”
“Oh and why's that?” The younger teased, taking the other’s hands off his face.
“Because then I'll be kissing you forever and we'll never get out of bed,” he smiled.
“Is that a gift or a punishment?”
“You choose.”
And finally, their lips met once again in a sweet, gentle kiss.