Then let it last, [Myr murmurs, words low and warm as those used to keep a lover in bed. He twines the fingers of one hand through L's, freeing the other only long enough to brush the charm from between their faces. It makes for a better fit as he closes his own eyes and nuzzles wordlessly against his Witch.
He would not weigh it a good dream himself, but he had seen what it had meant to L and will not dispute the description. It is a grand thing, to feel accepted, and for all Myr's horror at what the true Fae were and did--they are past, and gone, and punished amply for their abuse of magic. There is no reason to taint this moment with that.
It is a similar respect for the sweetness of the now that Myr is content to let it stretch on in tender silence until the faintest intimation of wakefulness begins to steal in on him. Only then does he ask, low and soft,]
Am I welcome in your home again, amatus?
[No Vampire, he, to be barred by a disinvitation; but nor would he violate a place he'd been driven from by one he loved.]
no subject
He would not weigh it a good dream himself, but he had seen what it had meant to L and will not dispute the description. It is a grand thing, to feel accepted, and for all Myr's horror at what the true Fae were and did--they are past, and gone, and punished amply for their abuse of magic. There is no reason to taint this moment with that.
It is a similar respect for the sweetness of the now that Myr is content to let it stretch on in tender silence until the faintest intimation of wakefulness begins to steal in on him. Only then does he ask, low and soft,]
Am I welcome in your home again, amatus?
[No Vampire, he, to be barred by a disinvitation; but nor would he violate a place he'd been driven from by one he loved.]