(no subject)
He's warm. And comfortable, all curled in a pile of sheets and Hamel, the latter of the two being the more important. The sheets are damp, and they're slightly sticky, but in his opinion, that just makes it all the better.
He shifts a little, wrapping an arm around Hamel's waist, and squeezing a bit. With his ear pressed close to Hamel's stomach, he's in a prime position to hear it rumble. Which means, of course, that his boyfriend is going to be getting up, and abandoning him again soon. It'll only be a temporary abandonment, he knows, but at the moment, even that's not something he wants.
Without even thinking about it, his will flexes out, sending the call, and--
There's a not-sound, an a roiling of white thorns in the air, and suddenly, there's a trio of his Dancers by the side of the bed.
How can we serve, my leige? There's a sense of reproach - they've been feeling neglected the last few days - and a sense of wonder, and understanding. He knows they can sense his heart.
He shifts a little, wrapping an arm around Hamel's waist, and squeezing a bit. With his ear pressed close to Hamel's stomach, he's in a prime position to hear it rumble. Which means, of course, that his boyfriend is going to be getting up, and abandoning him again soon. It'll only be a temporary abandonment, he knows, but at the moment, even that's not something he wants.
Without even thinking about it, his will flexes out, sending the call, and--
There's a not-sound, an a roiling of white thorns in the air, and suddenly, there's a trio of his Dancers by the side of the bed.
How can we serve, my leige? There's a sense of reproach - they've been feeling neglected the last few days - and a sense of wonder, and understanding. He knows they can sense his heart.