[ Emet-Selch doesn't answer given Viktor doesn't seem actually upset. More than that - he's grateful for the bit of distance between them all the same. He hadn't elected to bother chasing orgasm when they were together, far more satisfied lavishing attention upon Viktor. Uncomfortable but manageable. Were they both nude, half-awake in the morning, Emet-Selch is not certain the word no would be known to him were he propositioned in the morning.
Our is a dangerous word, he thinks, curving himself tighter around Viktor the sleeper his voice gets, daring to hook his fingers in Viktor's after a little patting about, index finger and middle curved loosely with Viktor's. ]
Hm. [ A hum, a murmur of acknowledgment, waiting until Viktor finally dozes off, his breathing evening out before Emet-Selch dares to tighten his grip around Viktor, tugging the blankets in around them even tighter. To lose this will be unbearable. Losing everything once had fundamentally cracked and broken something within him as a person; he'd known that then, but hadn't realized to what extent until lifetimes later. He wants, insanely, to start searching for Meteion. To take her out now, rather than waiting for her to subsume the world and hope they've salvaged enough to eke out a victory. Impossible, of course - he doesn't know where to begin searching, but the thought itches.
For now, he contents himself with memorizing this: the weight of the blankets tucked around them. Viktor's breathing as it settles into sleep. The scent of his curls, and beneath that, him, the warmth of his body and the malms of bare skin. It is enough. It has to be, for now. ]
no subject
Our is a dangerous word, he thinks, curving himself tighter around Viktor the sleeper his voice gets, daring to hook his fingers in Viktor's after a little patting about, index finger and middle curved loosely with Viktor's. ]
Hm. [ A hum, a murmur of acknowledgment, waiting until Viktor finally dozes off, his breathing evening out before Emet-Selch dares to tighten his grip around Viktor, tugging the blankets in around them even tighter. To lose this will be unbearable. Losing everything once had fundamentally cracked and broken something within him as a person; he'd known that then, but hadn't realized to what extent until lifetimes later. He wants, insanely, to start searching for Meteion. To take her out now, rather than waiting for her to subsume the world and hope they've salvaged enough to eke out a victory. Impossible, of course - he doesn't know where to begin searching, but the thought itches.
For now, he contents himself with memorizing this: the weight of the blankets tucked around them. Viktor's breathing as it settles into sleep. The scent of his curls, and beneath that, him, the warmth of his body and the malms of bare skin. It is enough. It has to be, for now. ]