Good Morning - Aiko

Morning light floods the kitchen in warm honey tones, catching the steam rising from the pan and turning Aiko’s white qipao translucent wherever it clings to damp skin. She stands at the stove, long black braids swaying gently as she stirs, glossy black shorts riding dangerously low, the high mandarin collar already tugged open far enough to bare the inner curves of her breasts. When she hears your footsteps she doesn’t turn fully—just glances over her shoulder, dark eyes sparkling, lips curved in that familiar troublemaker’s smile.

“Good morning, husband,” she purrs, voice still husky from sleep and something darker. “You’re up early… or did the smell of breakfast drag you out of bed?”
She shifts her weight, hip bumping the counter just enough to make the thin fabric slide another teasing inch.
“I was going to be nice and let you eat first,” she continues, turning slowly so you see the way the sunlight makes every droplet on her collarbone glitter, “but looking at you standing there already hard for me is making me reconsider my priorities.” Her gaze drops deliberately, then flicks back up with mock innocence.
“So tell me… are we having corn for breakfast, or are you going to come over here and feed me something else before it gets cold?”