The Most Important Meal of the Day

The rude demands of your alarm jostle you out a particularly pleasant reverie, the scene of Max and Aisha stuck in Relationship Jail fluttering away as the noisy device trills on and on. Goddamn it, you were just about the find out what would happen when...uh, when they did something...fuck, it's gone. You can't even remember what the hell Relationship Jail is anymore. You drowsily aim a blind slap at the blaring interruption, forgetting like you do every morning that it's not coming from your phone but from an actual vintage bells-and-all alarm clock. Fuuck this thing is so fiddly to turn off; why do you bother with it?! Because it's awesome and looks dope in your room, that's why. Well at least that question's been answered. Now if only you could rediscover the mysteries of long-lost Relationship Jail.

A long, slender arm drapes across you as you struggle with the clock, Isabelle snugging closer into your naked body as you manhandle it into silence. She nuzzles herself against the vast softness of your right breast, murmuring groggily. "'S not morning. Clocks're liars."

You finally wrestle the alarm into submission, slipping back down into bed to slide your hand down Isabelle's side and gently brush her lips with yours. She gives a mild noise of annoyance as you pepper her with kisses, though the way she shivers as your questing hand inches further between her legs tells a different story. "Even lying clocks are right twice a day, babe. I'll make you breakfast."

She harumphs and buries her head back into your chest, pouting dramatically against your boob. "No smoothies."

"Are you sure?" You begin slowly curling your fingers into Isabelle's soft cleft, your increasingly wet girlfriend grinding steadily against your hand. "'Cause I have this great new recipe. It's blueberries, yogurt, a splash of Hime, flax-"

Isabelle cuts you off through a groan of pleasure. "No~o flax; no one likes f-flax. And I want Pixie."

You frown in mock reproach as Isabelle shudders against you, her whine catching her in throat as you slip another finger into her quivering depths. "Pixie's milk is basically a melted Milky Way. That's so heavy. Hime is energizing; she's perfect for the morning!"

A rebuttal is delivered by way of Isabelle creeping her hand up your other boob and catching your nipple between her fingers, drawing a hiss of delight out of you as she makes a valiant effort to single-handedly heft the oversized breast. "If you expected me to drink a breakfast smoothie ever again, you shouldn't have let me find out how good your French toast was."

"Oh?" There's nothing you can do but grin at that and rededicate yourself to the work literally at hand, Isabelle releasing your tit with a warbling moan as you massage your clever fingers into her favorite spots. She stretches out in bliss, arms vanishing under your pillows as she humps her hips in an effort to **** your hand all the way into her drenched flower. You press yourself to her side and lightly nipple her neck as she begins to spasmodically clench and contract, her body going limp as she wheezes out a deeply satisfied laugh. You catch her lips in another kiss, eventually pulling away with something of a smug look. "How's that for an argument?"

Isabelle grins back at you. "Not bad." She cranes her head up for another quick kiss. "Allow me to counter."

Your only hint of what she's up to is a sudden muffled buzzing noise, and by the time you realize what's happening Isabelle has retrieved your rabbit from its pouch beneath your pillows. And by then it's too late; she's pinning you down with one hand as the other works the vibrator inch by inch into your increasingly **** pussy. When she pushes her face back into your heaving breasts, drawing a throbbing nipple into her mouth with a playful bite, the battle has completely slipped out of your grasp.

What can you say? She's an excellent debater.

Isabelle beams with genuine delight as you ceremonially place a plate of French toast and sliced fruit in front of her, a vision in your oversized Joy Division shirt. Look at her, acting all innocent as she slips your adoring greyhound a slice of banana. You really don't give her enough credit for being sneaky. When you were starting your prep, she slipped up behind you for what you'd thought would be a bit of a grateful snuggle? It wasn't until she tipped a finger under the bottle of Pixie you'd been holding, turning what was meant to be a splash for the egg wash into an overgenerous helping, that her true plots came to light. She smiles beatifically at you as she starts to chew her first bite, only to quickly swallow and begin to protest when she sees you reaching for the blender. "No, have French Toast with me! Take your cheat day!"

You give your girlfriend a little smile, scratching Pazuzu behind the ear when he trots over to sit by your feet. "I can't do a cheat day; I didn't make it to the gym enough."

"Ash, you didn't go to the gym enough because we've been dealing with insanity all week. Your mind and your soul deserve a cheat day. Who knows when we're going to get to do this again?" She straightens up with increasing resolve, brandishing her fork at you. "In fact, I'll calling for a Full Cheat Day today. If your wards set off an alarm, we'll deal with it. But outside of that? I want you to eat a real breakfast with me." She continues listing points, punctuating each one with a thrust of her fork. "Then we'll call Jenny and lay out for a while. Then we can take Pazuzu for a long walk, then you can show me the weirdest movie you've got." She pauses long enough to take another bite of French toast. "And then you're going to play the piano for me, and I'll spend the rest of the night making your toes curl. How does that sound?"

You were sold the moment Isabelle got that irresistibly confident look in her eye, but you love playing along too much to not keep the game going. "Hmm...the weirdest movie, you say? I've already shown you **** Bed: The Bed That Eats, though."

Isabelle quirks an eyebrow at you in playful confrontation. "That was the weirdest you can do? How disappointing."

Well that settles it. You give a dramatically resigned sigh, meandering over to the refrigerator and pulling out a small jar. "Well then. I guess if we're having a Full Cheat Day, we're going to need this."

You twist the top from the jar, placing it reverently before an intrigued-looking Isabelle. "What's this?"

"This,"-you swipe a dollop of the thick cream out with a spoon, spreading it over a slice of Isabelle's French toast-"is clotted cream. Sydney Clotted Cream."

Isabelle's eyes go wide as she quickly spears a piece and inhales it. Her eyebrows knit helplessly together as she whimpers around her fork, practically melting into her seat as she chews the mouthful as slowly and deliberately as she can manage. When she finally deigns to swallow, it's with a full body shiver and a deeply grateful look. "Oh my God, I love you so much."

Well that certainly interrupts whatever you were about to do. You fiddle with the lid to the cream jar as Isabelle practically inhales the rest of her breakfast. Are your ears turning red? Yes, they are. Well hell Ash, there's no reason to get all middle school about this; you both knew full well how you felt, even if this is the first time either of you have actually pulled the trigger. "Well, I love you, too."

Isabelle stares at you for a moment, then flushes and quickly sets down her fork. "Um, for the record, I wanted to say that last night? But we got caught up with things, and then I fell asleep? I feel like I've made it sound like I love you because of a good breakfast."

You slip your hand into hers, the two of you watching your intertwined fingers as they slowly trace each other. "There are worse foundations for a meaningful relationship, I'm sure."

Your girlfriend smiles at that, but her expression turns serious again as she grips your hand tightly. "I wanted to say it now, though. Before everything gets crazy, which is definitely going to happen. We were only brave enough to get together when we thought we might die, and I didn't want to wait to tell you that I love you until, I don't know, someone is about to turn us into spiders or something. So hey: I love you."

"I love you, too."

Isabelle tenderly kisses your interlocked hands, then favors you with her glorious smile. "There is one other thing I wanted to say."

"What?"

She slides her empty plate towards you. "More French toast, please."

What could possible be said against that? You pick up the plate with an exaggerated bow, Isabelle applauding in appreciation. You set about making another helping, for two this time, and silently wish to the universe that Full Cheat Day might somehow last forever.