Post party
He growled at the first bit of sun that lit his eyelids up red like over exuberant stop lights and buried his face into that braid as though it was the most normal thing in the world. His body tightened up, moving flush from shoulders to hips to the angles of their knees with her, but his hand spread a little wider around the swell of her pumpkin belly.
Her braid smelled as he expected it to smell. The grass under his cheek was warm with body heat, but that slight movement of his body brought the reminder that the grass was cool, and slightly damp in the morning air.
It'd been many years since he woke up like this and he was still slow to rouse fully, even when her shifting went from subtle to not. It wasn't the urge of her hips that he was accustomed to, nor that tightening along her thighs that came with her arousal, that slight arch of her back that happened when she wanted his hands on her and he wanted everything from the base of his palm to the tips of his fingers to be full of her skin.
"Mmmmf," he mumbled against her neck, hand pressing a little more fully to her belly. No little legs or hands pushing outward, but maybe she was getting kicked somewhere he couldn't feel. "Behave," Manning mumbled, as though their unborn child would listen to him.