Feb 15, 2024
Ambrose draws his fingers through Rodrigue’s hair. He curls them against the nape of his neck, lightly. With the leverage of that slight pressure, he tips back Rodrigue’s head, until their eyes meet.
“My old friend.” The irony is so heavy in Ambrose’s throat, Rodrigue wonders how he doesn’t choke on it. “You have to ask for what you want.”
the windmills of your mind by mareza
(edit: fixed the anatomy)