She knew going down the mountain meant Tailoring herself once more. She could Tailor the both of them really. Each time, a different face. They could figure out the best strategy for that in a few days. In the meantime, they had enough here to last. She thought it was sweet there was a mother bear hidden away with her babies in their den. She imagined them curled together and sleeping until it spring.
She saw Aleksander's expression turn deadly serious. His tone was firm. There was no room for argument. She nodded her agreement.
"I promise," she replied. It was too cold to go outside anyway. She wanted to stay warm and cozy. A nap already sounded wonderful. She'd never been so idle and indolent. There was always something to do in her service to the Lantsovs. "There are plenty of books here. Would you like me to read aloud?" she offered. It was a good way to pass the time for them.
Her promise softened his expression, and he nodded acceptance. Then finished off the bacon and the tea. Genya then mentioned reading and his metaphorical ears perked. "...yes, if you would like." A corner of his mouth tilted and he added a bit shyly, "...you have a lovely voice."
This time, he helped her with the clean up, drying the dishes as she washed and rinsed. Then he checked the fire in the hearth, adding a few logs to feed the flames before gingerly settling down on a corner of the large couch in the main room. If reading the day away was what she wanted, then that's what they would do. He was well-used to idleness, unless one of his masters needed a killing done.
Genya turned pink. Her cheeks flooded with warmth at his praise. As a servant to Tatiana and her constant companion, she'd heard her share of compliments. Usually, it was about her looks, and they always made her feel gross and uncomfortable. Aleksander praised her voice instead. His sincerity in his bashfulness made her feel funny, but in a good way. She smiled at him. It was warm and shy, and it stayed on her face even as they cleaned up.
She didn't know that he could read. Perhaps it should have occurred to her to ask. While he tended the fired, she looked at the bookshelf and studied the options. "A mystery? A classic? There's even some romance," she suggested to him. She liked that they had so many options. It would keep them busy.
"A mystery might be interesting," he replied quietly, watching as she browsed the shelves. But he had to snort to the 'romance' offer, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "No, thank you." Things were already confusing enough without adding the written word to them. "I've never understood how humans could even write about things like that. It's almost painful to read, and the cover art is atrocious."
Humans never actually looked like that, in his estimation. All flowing hair, rippling muscles, and half-naked women clinging to their blond barbarian...it was truly uncouth. Particularly to a lupine with little to no knowledge of how those things actually worked.
...although unbeknownst to him, he was learning, and quickly.
Genya picked a mystery novel from the shelf and brought it with her to the couch. She took a seat next to him and tucked her legs beneath her. She was chuckling softly at his distaste for romance novels. "They're unrealistic, but they're fun. Good fluff for the brain," she told him. Reading had been a good escape for her growing up. She'd devoured romances as a girl and dreamt of that epic romance to sweep her off her feet. When she'd became a young teenager, she'd blushed as she read the steamier novels.
She stopped reading them after the old man started abusing her. She had no room left in her heart or mind for romance. No hope for such a thing for her.
"Have you ready many romances?" she asked in amusement since he was so opinionated about them.
"Fluff?" His eyebrows went up, curious. "Is that what humans call it?" Fluff, hmm. He shifted to give her room as she sat beside him, more than a little surprised as she settled comfortably, even pulling her legs beneath her. And unconsciously, he was sure, leaned against his left side as she opened the book to the front page.
"One or two," he replied, sniffing again. "...didn't really like either." His mind was sharper than a human's, particularly when it came to imagery. And memory. Like all lupines, he possessed a photographic recollection, and reading those particular words had conjured all sorts of imaginings in his mind, so much so that he'd had to get rid of the books entirely.
They'd belonged to his first master's aged wife, salacious books of foreign poetry, and had mentally unsettled him so much that he'd never touched another.
She cuddled into his side without thinking. She needed more of his warmth and his physical touch even if she didn't voice that need out loud. He didn't seem to take an umbrage with it. She told herself that she'd respected any boundaries he set up the moment she caught wind of his discomfort. So far, his body lanyard felt more inviting.
"You can read," she realized. Genya glanced up from the book to look at him. "I mean-- I'm not saying that you're not smart enough to do so. I guess, I don't have much experience on what wolf men are like."
Were there others like him out there? Were their wolf women too? She picture the females to be just as gorgeous as he was. He has an almost otherworldly sort of beauty.
He nodded, quietly still with her cradled against his side. "I can. My first master taught me when I was young." Dark eyes grew distant as he gazed out of the snowy window. "And to speak. And to write. And many other things..." Before he died and his horrible son inherited everything. Including his magnificent Shadow Wolf.
"There...there aren't any others," he suddenly told her, shifting away slightly. Not because of her, but because it was difficult to say. "I am the last. Or the only. In five centuries, I have never crossed the path of another like myself." Not that he'd roamed the world; he'd been enslaved to a master's hand since his birth.
"Oh. That sounds terribly lonely," Genya frowned slightly. She knew he'd been through such terrible things with Lantsov alone, but five centuries of that along with being the only Shadow Wolf? He'd been through so much pain and suffering. It felt as though her chest may crack open with the sorrow she felt for him. He shifted away, but that didn't stop her from setting her book aside to wrap her arms around him in a soft embrace.
Her finger ran through his hair as she cradled him against her. "You don't have to be alone anymore," she promised him. That, she could do for him.
At first he stiffened, prepared to pull away, get up, or both, but Genya’s hold was firm. After a long moment of internal debate, finally snarling at himself, Aleksander eased into her embrace, slowly daring to return it. She stroked him, small fingers feathering through his hair, and he sighed, lowering his head to rest against hers.
They were both so broken, terrified of the world; was it any wonder that they seemed to find comfort in each other? He wasn’t sure, but it certainly seemed so. And she sorrowed for him, he sensed it. Even when there was no need.
The wolf very gently nosed into her coppery hair, mouth against her ear to whisper, “Please don’t. Don’t sorrow for me, Genya.” A soft sigh, breath feathering her skin, but he didn’t lift his head or pull away.
His breath was warm against her ear. It made her shiver, but she held him closer. She'd felt how stiff he was at first, but now he'd relaxed into her. Her nails lightly raked along his scalp as she combed through his hair. "It isn't right what happened to you. Any of it. But if that is your request, I will try my best," she replied. She couldn't help the feeling in her chest. She felt sorrowful, but she also felt a fiery fury at the injustice and cruelty he'd suffered.
None of it was right. If she had her way, she'd be some sort of vengeful goddess raining down her wrath to those who deserved it. As it were, she was only a broken Tailor.
She pulled back to look at him. Her ocean blue eyes gazed into golden and black. "You deserve so much more than what the world has given you."
He met her gaze without flinching. The golden rings in his eyes thickened as he looked at her. “So do you,” he whispered back, lightly touching his forehead to hers. “I am not the only one here who has suffered. Am I?”
He’s been furious the first time he’d scented that old lecher’s scent staining her skin. She’d been little more than a child, already caught in an impossible trap, now subjected to the absolute worst of human nature. He’d tried to take the bastard’s throat the very next time he’d come to collect his prize, and had suffered a beating unlike any he’d taken in decades.
But he’d gotten back on his feet snarling, a silent warning to the disgusting whoremonger which of course had gone utterly ignored. But one day, one day, the Saints would deliver Lantsov into their hands. Or fangs.
And vengeance would be sweet, sweet bliss.
“He will die for his sins,” Aleksander promised. “This I swear to you.” And there were many. So many to come due.
He hesitantly lifted one large hand, touching just fingertips to Genya’s pale cheek, brows lightly furrowed as if captivated by just that simple touch. “I will keep you safe,” he heard himself whisper, “as long as you need.”
"I don't care about him. I never want to see him again," she shook her head. That was how she felt now. Her safety was paramount. She wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Perhaps later, when she felt more secure in her safety, she'd want that vengeance. She'd want to see the old man and Tatiana to suffer. They deserved that and so much more for all that they'd done.
Her eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch of his fingertips. He touched her so gently. She opened her eyes again to look at him. She felt captivated by everything that he was. His eyes, his voice, his touch.
"You're doing so much for me. What can I do for you?" she asked softly.
He couldn’t answer right away because he honestly didn’t know. He’d been born to serve, to protect; that was his purpose. A purpose twisted to take undue advantage of everything that he was, misshapen into a thing of fangs and shadows, mistrusting every outstretched hand.
But Genya…was so different. A victim herself, an innocent just as broken, she didn’t fear. She only wanted to help. To comfort, to soothe. Her innate goodness offered to something like him was…humbling. He honesty didn’t know what to say.
So he tried another way, tilting his head to run his nose along her cheek, beneath her ear, and down the slope of her throat, delicately inhaling her sweet, soothing scent. It was a calming balm to his jagged nerves, and he realized that he now coveted her touch, so very much. The hand at her cheek slowly curved over her shoulder, down the back of her arm until it reached her waist.
Touch. He was so very starved for it.
“…just this?” he finally whispered. “…may I have…this?”
"This?" she echoed tentatively. Genya wasn't sure what he was asking. Or if even knew what he was asking. She didn't want to mistake his request for something else and turn this into something perverse. Maybe she was just as perverse as the old man now. He'd ruined her. He'd poured his poison into her. She didn't want to accidentally infect Aleksander with it.
He was a wolf. He had the form of a man, but he hadn't been one in fifty years. She still wanted to give him what he wanted. It was also dawning on her that she wanted the touch as well. She'd been craving it all morning, hadn't she?
He inhaled her scent at her throat. Her lips lightly brushed along his forehead then she gently tilted his chin up to look at her. "You can have whatever you'd like, Aleksander." She meant that.
Her fingertips guided him as sure as any leash, not that he felt collared or even wanted to jerk away from it. Dark eyes met blue, long lashes slightly obscuring the golden rings as they drifted half-closed.
“…touch,” he whispered tentatively. Had he misstepped? Asked for too much? After what she’d endured beneath the old man, perhaps that was indeed asking for too much.
But animal honesty compelled him to admit, “…I have never known a kind hand. You are the only one to… to ever touch me without pain.” Even his first master, the aged wise sorcerer, hadn’t been overly tactile. He’d viewed the young pup as a student, a creature to be taught, not coddled.
“…it is…soothing. Comforting.” His eyes closed fully and he exhaled a soft snort through his nose, saying, “ I don’t understand why, but it…is.” Lifting his lashes again, he whispered, wary of giving offense or overstepping, “…is…is that wrong?”
"Oh, Aleksander. It's not wrong at all," she sighed. Her eyes shined with her pain for him. He told her not to sorrow for him, but could she not? He was so earnest and uncertain like he wasn't worthy of asking her such a thing. The world had been much too cruel to him. She cupped his face gently then pressed her lips to forehead. She let the kiss linger as she poured all her kindness and tenderness into it. She would show him a kind touch. He would never know any other from her.
"Come here," she told him. Genya settled back on the couch. She coaxed him to lay down on the couch and to rest his head in her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair while the other ran up and down his back. "Is this good?" she asked.
If he needed more or something different, she wanted to offer it to him. The fire burned and kept them warm. She didn't need it. Aleksander's body was plenty warm for her.
He smelled her tears, and he started to ask her again not to sorrow for something as lowly as he, but before he could, Genya gently took his face in her hands and brought his forehead to her lips, pressing them to his skin and igniting a flash of head beneath it. It made him silently gasp, froze in her hands.
But she wasn't yet done with him, because before he could even fathom a response, she coaxed him down with her, settling his head in her lap as if it were something they did every single day. Despite himself, Aleksander settled like a sinking ship, feeling a sudden warmth course over him, along with a strange churning deep in his gut.
The fire filled the room with warmth, he wasn't rawly starving, and Genya was so soft and sweet and fragrant beneath and beside him. His skin rippled where she touched it, whipcord muscles sliding beneath her hand, and he tilted his head into her caressing fingers. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drift closed, a low, thrumming rumble beginning in the depths of his chest.
The book could wait until later. This was much more important. They both needed this. Genya craved his close contact. He needed a kind touch. They were both starved for this kind of sweet intimacy that neither of them had ever experienced in their lives. She felt his chest rumble with something like a purr. Did wolves purr? She wasn't sure, but Aleksander was unique in so many ways.
A little nap wouldn't hurt either of them. She started to massage along his back and shoulders too. She gently worked the tension from the tight, sinewy muscles. Then, she began to sing.
It was a song her mother used to sing to her as a girl. A lullaby in Old Ravkan. It was a song she sang softly to herself whenever she felt truly broken down by the Lantsovs. It always brought her comfort. She wanted to give it to him too.
The song was about a wolf chasing the crescent moon to jump over her curves, but he could never quite reach her. How fitting that she sang it to a wolf now.
He began to relax one muscle at the time. Slowly, he melted further into her lap, sinking down into the couch cushions as she continued to pet him. He'd never known this, not in five centuries had he ever had anyone just...comfort him. Touch him without an ulterior motive.
A soft sound entered the quiet, and he realized Genya had begun to sing. The words were Old Ravkan, a language he'd not heard in decades. The lullaby wasn't familiar, but it was a lovely melody regardless. He rubbed his cheek against her thigh, its scruffiness slightly rough on her bare skin.
Perhaps to return the comforting favor, a large hand curled around her calf, lightly rubbing from knee to ankle. He didn't interrupt or speak until she fell silent, and stirred only slightly to say, "...alas that wolves can't fly, no?"
She thought he'd fallen asleep by the time her song finished. He was breathing so deeply and slowly. Is this what it was like when he was completely relaxed? She liked the way it looked on him. She chuckled when she realized he wasn't quite asleep yet. His hand rubbed along her calf up and down. It felt nice. It felt nice to be touched without demand. She liked being touched when she wanted it.
"You've done many impossible things these last twenty four hours. I'm sure you'd find a way if you needed to fly," she teased him. She gently tugged his hair then massaged the spot right after. Her back sank against the couch. She'd never felt so content and at ease. There was nothing that needed to be done. No one was demanding her time and attention. She didn't have to fear.
This felt like their own private world. She didn't want to ever leave it.
He huffed a soft chuckle, acceding the point. "I would try," he agreed, fingertips ghosting lightly over her soft skin, "if you wanted me to." A moment later, he shifted a bit, turning enough to gaze up at her from over his shoulder. "...are you the moon, Genya Safin?"
A corner of his mouth curved, rare amusement coming to the fore. The hand on her knee rose to touch the back of his fingers to her smooth cheek. "Shall I chase you across the night sky?" Banter wasn't something he'd ever truly done; just having a conversation was a novelty. Then his brows twitched, expression turning speculative. "Would you flee from me?"
It was the sweetest, most romantic words ever spoken to her. How could her heart do anything but race at them. He even caressed her cheek gently with his knuckles in a way that made her feel weak in the knees. She was grateful that she was seated. How had this wolf manage to disarm her so completely? They were practically strangers to one another, yet it felt as though they'd known each other for years.
"Never," she said confidently. "Why would I flee from the one good thing I've found in all the darkness?"
She would be his moon or his stars or whatever he'd like her to be. She'd give him whatever he needed. She truly believed he deserved it.
This time, his smile blossomed fully at her response, eclipsing his entire countenance. It was such a foreign expression, but her sincerity had pulled it right out of him. He chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat, but then sat up beside her, rose to his feet and without warning scooped her up in his long arms, her curls swinging as he turned and headed back to the bedroom.
Only to reverently place her back in the still-mussed bed, following her down to settle just like a pet right beside her, long arms winding around her waist and his head nestling beneath her chin. Comfort. Peace. Calm. How he'd come to cherish it.
"I have you trapped," he teased, huffing another warm chuckle against her throat. "The moon and stars, all in one." A long sigh went out of him, along with the words, "...and all mine..."
His smile took her breath away. It was gorgeous. It lit up his entire countenance. She wanted to make him smile like that again. She was so struck by it that he caught her by surprise when he swept her up into his arms. Genya squealed and laughed as she clung to him. She knew that he wouldn't drop, but she had a good excuse to hold on to him.
"The wolf has caught the moon," she chuckled. He set her so gently on the bed. Even playfully dropping her to bounce wasn't an option for him. Aleksander soon crawled next to her and tucked himself comfortably. She brushed a soft kiss to his crown and held him close to her.
"Or perhaps the moon and stars has caught the wolf instead," she teased. Her fingers trailed up and down his spine.
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ninetydegrees
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on 2023-11-13 02:24 am (UTC)She saw Aleksander's expression turn deadly serious. His tone was firm. There was no room for argument. She nodded her agreement.
"I promise," she replied. It was too cold to go outside anyway. She wanted to stay warm and cozy. A nap already sounded wonderful. She'd never been so idle and indolent. There was always something to do in her service to the Lantsovs. "There are plenty of books here. Would you like me to read aloud?" she offered. It was a good way to pass the time for them.
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on 2023-11-13 02:30 am (UTC)This time, he helped her with the clean up, drying the dishes as she washed and rinsed. Then he checked the fire in the hearth, adding a few logs to feed the flames before gingerly settling down on a corner of the large couch in the main room. If reading the day away was what she wanted, then that's what they would do. He was well-used to idleness, unless one of his masters needed a killing done.
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on 2023-11-13 02:37 am (UTC)She didn't know that he could read. Perhaps it should have occurred to her to ask. While he tended the fired, she looked at the bookshelf and studied the options. "A mystery? A classic? There's even some romance," she suggested to him. She liked that they had so many options. It would keep them busy.
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on 2023-11-13 02:45 am (UTC)Humans never actually looked like that, in his estimation. All flowing hair, rippling muscles, and half-naked women clinging to their blond barbarian...it was truly uncouth. Particularly to a lupine with little to no knowledge of how those things actually worked.
...although unbeknownst to him, he was learning, and quickly.
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on 2023-11-13 02:54 am (UTC)She stopped reading them after the old man started abusing her. She had no room left in her heart or mind for romance. No hope for such a thing for her.
"Have you ready many romances?" she asked in amusement since he was so opinionated about them.
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on 2023-11-13 03:01 am (UTC)"One or two," he replied, sniffing again. "...didn't really like either." His mind was sharper than a human's, particularly when it came to imagery. And memory. Like all lupines, he possessed a photographic recollection, and reading those particular words had conjured all sorts of imaginings in his mind, so much so that he'd had to get rid of the books entirely.
They'd belonged to his first master's aged wife, salacious books of foreign poetry, and had mentally unsettled him so much that he'd never touched another.
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on 2023-11-13 03:10 am (UTC)"You can read," she realized. Genya glanced up from the book to look at him. "I mean-- I'm not saying that you're not smart enough to do so. I guess, I don't have much experience on what wolf men are like."
Were there others like him out there? Were their wolf women too? She picture the females to be just as gorgeous as he was. He has an almost otherworldly sort of beauty.
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on 2023-11-13 03:16 am (UTC)"There...there aren't any others," he suddenly told her, shifting away slightly. Not because of her, but because it was difficult to say. "I am the last. Or the only. In five centuries, I have never crossed the path of another like myself." Not that he'd roamed the world; he'd been enslaved to a master's hand since his birth.
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on 2023-11-13 03:39 pm (UTC)Her finger ran through his hair as she cradled him against her. "You don't have to be alone anymore," she promised him. That, she could do for him.
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on 2023-11-13 06:47 pm (UTC)They were both so broken, terrified of the world; was it any wonder that they seemed to find comfort in each other? He wasn’t sure, but it certainly seemed so. And she sorrowed for him, he sensed it. Even when there was no need.
The wolf very gently nosed into her coppery hair, mouth against her ear to whisper, “Please don’t. Don’t sorrow for me, Genya.” A soft sigh, breath feathering her skin, but he didn’t lift his head or pull away.
Not this time.
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on 2023-11-13 07:12 pm (UTC)None of it was right. If she had her way, she'd be some sort of vengeful goddess raining down her wrath to those who deserved it. As it were, she was only a broken Tailor.
She pulled back to look at him. Her ocean blue eyes gazed into golden and black. "You deserve so much more than what the world has given you."
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on 2023-11-13 07:25 pm (UTC)He’s been furious the first time he’d scented that old lecher’s scent staining her skin. She’d been little more than a child, already caught in an impossible trap, now subjected to the absolute worst of human nature. He’d tried to take the bastard’s throat the very next time he’d come to collect his prize, and had suffered a beating unlike any he’d taken in decades.
But he’d gotten back on his feet snarling, a silent warning to the disgusting whoremonger which of course had gone utterly ignored. But one day, one day, the Saints would deliver Lantsov into their hands. Or fangs.
And vengeance would be sweet, sweet bliss.
“He will die for his sins,” Aleksander promised. “This I swear to you.” And there were many. So many to come due.
He hesitantly lifted one large hand, touching just fingertips to Genya’s pale cheek, brows lightly furrowed as if captivated by just that simple touch. “I will keep you safe,” he heard himself whisper, “as long as you need.”
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on 2023-11-13 07:56 pm (UTC)Her eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch of his fingertips. He touched her so gently. She opened her eyes again to look at him. She felt captivated by everything that he was. His eyes, his voice, his touch.
"You're doing so much for me. What can I do for you?" she asked softly.
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on 2023-11-13 08:51 pm (UTC)But Genya…was so different. A victim herself, an innocent just as broken, she didn’t fear. She only wanted to help. To comfort, to soothe. Her innate goodness offered to something like him was…humbling. He honesty didn’t know what to say.
So he tried another way, tilting his head to run his nose along her cheek, beneath her ear, and down the slope of her throat, delicately inhaling her sweet, soothing scent. It was a calming balm to his jagged nerves, and he realized that he now coveted her touch, so very much. The hand at her cheek slowly curved over her shoulder, down the back of her arm until it reached her waist.
Touch. He was so very starved for it.
“…just this?” he finally whispered. “…may I have…this?”
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on 2023-11-13 09:08 pm (UTC)He was a wolf. He had the form of a man, but he hadn't been one in fifty years. She still wanted to give him what he wanted. It was also dawning on her that she wanted the touch as well. She'd been craving it all morning, hadn't she?
He inhaled her scent at her throat. Her lips lightly brushed along his forehead then she gently tilted his chin up to look at her. "You can have whatever you'd like, Aleksander." She meant that.
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on 2023-11-13 10:32 pm (UTC)“…touch,” he whispered tentatively. Had he misstepped? Asked for too much? After what she’d endured beneath the old man, perhaps that was indeed asking for too much.
But animal honesty compelled him to admit, “…I have never known a kind hand. You are the only one to… to ever touch me without pain.” Even his first master, the aged wise sorcerer, hadn’t been overly tactile. He’d viewed the young pup as a student, a creature to be taught, not coddled.
“…it is…soothing. Comforting.” His eyes closed fully and he exhaled a soft snort through his nose, saying, “ I don’t understand why, but it…is.” Lifting his lashes again, he whispered, wary of giving offense or overstepping, “…is…is that wrong?”
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on 2023-11-14 12:35 am (UTC)"Come here," she told him. Genya settled back on the couch. She coaxed him to lay down on the couch and to rest his head in her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair while the other ran up and down his back. "Is this good?" she asked.
If he needed more or something different, she wanted to offer it to him. The fire burned and kept them warm. She didn't need it. Aleksander's body was plenty warm for her.
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on 2023-11-14 01:22 am (UTC)But she wasn't yet done with him, because before he could even fathom a response, she coaxed him down with her, settling his head in her lap as if it were something they did every single day. Despite himself, Aleksander settled like a sinking ship, feeling a sudden warmth course over him, along with a strange churning deep in his gut.
The fire filled the room with warmth, he wasn't rawly starving, and Genya was so soft and sweet and fragrant beneath and beside him. His skin rippled where she touched it, whipcord muscles sliding beneath her hand, and he tilted his head into her caressing fingers. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drift closed, a low, thrumming rumble beginning in the depths of his chest.
It was good. So very, very good.
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on 2023-11-14 01:41 am (UTC)A little nap wouldn't hurt either of them. She started to massage along his back and shoulders too. She gently worked the tension from the tight, sinewy muscles. Then, she began to sing.
It was a song her mother used to sing to her as a girl. A lullaby in Old Ravkan. It was a song she sang softly to herself whenever she felt truly broken down by the Lantsovs. It always brought her comfort. She wanted to give it to him too.
The song was about a wolf chasing the crescent moon to jump over her curves, but he could never quite reach her. How fitting that she sang it to a wolf now.
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on 2023-11-14 01:56 am (UTC)A soft sound entered the quiet, and he realized Genya had begun to sing. The words were Old Ravkan, a language he'd not heard in decades. The lullaby wasn't familiar, but it was a lovely melody regardless. He rubbed his cheek against her thigh, its scruffiness slightly rough on her bare skin.
Perhaps to return the comforting favor, a large hand curled around her calf, lightly rubbing from knee to ankle. He didn't interrupt or speak until she fell silent, and stirred only slightly to say, "...alas that wolves can't fly, no?"
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on 2023-11-14 02:12 am (UTC)"You've done many impossible things these last twenty four hours. I'm sure you'd find a way if you needed to fly," she teased him. She gently tugged his hair then massaged the spot right after. Her back sank against the couch. She'd never felt so content and at ease. There was nothing that needed to be done. No one was demanding her time and attention. She didn't have to fear.
This felt like their own private world. She didn't want to ever leave it.
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on 2023-11-14 02:27 am (UTC)A corner of his mouth curved, rare amusement coming to the fore. The hand on her knee rose to touch the back of his fingers to her smooth cheek. "Shall I chase you across the night sky?" Banter wasn't something he'd ever truly done; just having a conversation was a novelty. Then his brows twitched, expression turning speculative. "Would you flee from me?"
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on 2023-11-14 02:43 am (UTC)"Never," she said confidently. "Why would I flee from the one good thing I've found in all the darkness?"
She would be his moon or his stars or whatever he'd like her to be. She'd give him whatever he needed. She truly believed he deserved it.
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on 2023-11-14 03:06 am (UTC)Only to reverently place her back in the still-mussed bed, following her down to settle just like a pet right beside her, long arms winding around her waist and his head nestling beneath her chin. Comfort. Peace. Calm. How he'd come to cherish it.
"I have you trapped," he teased, huffing another warm chuckle against her throat. "The moon and stars, all in one." A long sigh went out of him, along with the words, "...and all mine..."
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on 2023-11-14 03:40 pm (UTC)"The wolf has caught the moon," she chuckled. He set her so gently on the bed. Even playfully dropping her to bounce wasn't an option for him. Aleksander soon crawled next to her and tucked himself comfortably. She brushed a soft kiss to his crown and held him close to her.
"Or perhaps the moon and stars has caught the wolf instead," she teased. Her fingers trailed up and down his spine.
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