(no subject)
Somewhere in the gray, soft-focus area between night and morning, it rains.
Instincts honed since earliest childhood respond to the sound, but sluggishly. Cuthbert’s senses part with sleep reluctantly, and it’s some time before a simple awareness of warmth and softness and sweetness
(jasmine, rose, honeysuckle)
resolves itself into Susan in his arms, Susan’s hair under his cheek, Susan’s scent heavy on the air.
When it does-when he comes around to full awareness of where he is, and who is with him, and how they got there-there’s a slow, lazy smile, and a nestling further down into blankets and entwined limbs, Susan shifting against him with a soft noise before settling again-and then Cuthbert sinks back into slumber, more content and at peace than he has been in years.
Instincts honed since earliest childhood respond to the sound, but sluggishly. Cuthbert’s senses part with sleep reluctantly, and it’s some time before a simple awareness of warmth and softness and sweetness
(jasmine, rose, honeysuckle)
resolves itself into Susan in his arms, Susan’s hair under his cheek, Susan’s scent heavy on the air.
When it does-when he comes around to full awareness of where he is, and who is with him, and how they got there-there’s a slow, lazy smile, and a nestling further down into blankets and entwined limbs, Susan shifting against him with a soft noise before settling again-and then Cuthbert sinks back into slumber, more content and at peace than he has been in years.