(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric leads Athelstan back to their room, stopping at the bar to have a quiet word with the bar before they go. When they arrive in their rooms, the bed has been spread with a large, warm bear-fur and draped with silk. There are candles on the table, at bedside, on the windowsill, bathing the room in soft, warm light.

Sinric smiles and leads Athelstan towards the bed. "This night is for you, beloved Athelstan. We'll go only as far as you're ready for."

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan holds him, calm and unmoving, but he doesn't sleep.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sleeps fairly soundly, sniffling and shifting occasionally but hugging close to the safe, loving source of warmth next to him like a cat.

Asleep, he looks very young and very small, the mask melting away to show the fragile softness beneath.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's easy to forget how young he really is, sometimes, when he's awake and wearing the courtesan's mask.

Athelstan strokes his hair and face, very lightly, not wanting to wake him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric makes a soft, happy sound at being stroked and curls closer, content and trusting.

Something that only happens two places - here in their shared rooms and in his Emperor's arms.

[athelstanthescribe]

The last thing Athelstan wants to do is disturb this, either by another nightmare or by moving.

He curls protectively around Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric murmurs something softly and rests his head on Athelstan's chest, letting the beat of his heart sooth him deeping into sleep.

[athelstanthescribe]

In turn, Athelstan starts to relax. Sleep will catch him sooner or later, he knows, but for the moment he's content.