[And why should they? What's the point of being the two adopted sons of the owners if you can't sleep in once in a while?
It's not something Fenris would ever profess, but something along those lines plays out in his mind as he, entirely unwillingly, begins to stir. The afternoon sunlight plays a part in his rousing, but it's the movement that truly awakens him: some part of him waking when he feels lithe limbs gliding against his body. Cool to the touch and so familiar that they only faintly register as safe; it's only once he cracks open his eyes that he realize it's Astarion in his bed. Why . . . for a long few seconds Fenris stares dazedly up at him, vaguely pleased and utterly baffled both as to why they're entangled. Was there a storm again . . .? Or—
Oh. Oh, and the memories don't flood back so much as drift: pleasing little recollections rediscovered one after another, each more satisfying than the last. He beams at up Astarion (he tries, anyway, though it's probably more of a dazed thing than anything) and leans in to try and nuzzle at him. He ends up sort of mushing his face against his bare collarbone, but that's all right too.]
Hi . . .
[No, that's not enough. He feels around until he can latch his fingers around the back of his neck, gently urging him to lie back down. There's a multitude of jobs they need to attend to, and that's to say nothing of all the menial work Zevlor had given them as punishment, but oh, can't they have this? Just one afternoon. Just one more hour of this blissful, sleepy state . . .]
Lie down. Lie down with me . . .
[What could be more important than this? Astarion glimmering in the golden light, his hair shining and his cheeks warmed, still wearing all those pretty little marks Fenris had bitten in last night . . . no, they shouldn't do anything today, Fenris decides. For once in his life he's going to be selfish. For once in his life he'll be the one to demand they take a day off. For once in his life—]
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
1/?
It's not something Fenris would ever profess, but something along those lines plays out in his mind as he, entirely unwillingly, begins to stir. The afternoon sunlight plays a part in his rousing, but it's the movement that truly awakens him: some part of him waking when he feels lithe limbs gliding against his body. Cool to the touch and so familiar that they only faintly register as safe; it's only once he cracks open his eyes that he realize it's Astarion in his bed. Why . . . for a long few seconds Fenris stares dazedly up at him, vaguely pleased and utterly baffled both as to why they're entangled. Was there a storm again . . .? Or—
Oh. Oh, and the memories don't flood back so much as drift: pleasing little recollections rediscovered one after another, each more satisfying than the last. He beams at up Astarion (he tries, anyway, though it's probably more of a dazed thing than anything) and leans in to try and nuzzle at him. He ends up sort of mushing his face against his bare collarbone, but that's all right too.]
Hi . . .
[No, that's not enough. He feels around until he can latch his fingers around the back of his neck, gently urging him to lie back down. There's a multitude of jobs they need to attend to, and that's to say nothing of all the menial work Zevlor had given them as punishment, but oh, can't they have this? Just one afternoon. Just one more hour of this blissful, sleepy state . . .]
Lie down. Lie down with me . . .
[What could be more important than this? Astarion glimmering in the golden light, his hair shining and his cheeks warmed, still wearing all those pretty little marks Fenris had bitten in last night . . . no, they shouldn't do anything today, Fenris decides. For once in his life he's going to be selfish. For once in his life he'll be the one to demand they take a day off. For once in his life—]