My Ao3 | Send requests | Tip jar!
Taneleer is almost asleep on his feet, and he despises the weakness where it allays his form - the weight of his need for slumber is heavy upon his shoulders, even weighing down his eyelids, and he stifles a yawn against the inside of his elbow as he slips slowly into his quarters.
“You’ve exerted yourself,” Fandral murmurs, and he takes a step forward. “You need to sleep.”
“I need to catalogue the new items,” Taneleer mutters, but when Fandral takes up his hand, he allows Fandral to neatly undo the strap at his wrist, delicately sliding off the black leather of the glove before Fandral moves to the other side. “Fandral, the collection--”
“--will wait, my love,” Fandral murmurs, and he takes a step closer. His fingers move quick and dexterous on the buttons and metal clasps of Taneleer’s tunic, and Taneleer wrinkles his nose just slightly, his lips twisting - my love is too familiar, and he ought scold such language, but he is very tired, and he cannot deny he enjoys the warmth of his attendant’s body so close to his own. Fandral slides the tunic from his shoulders, beginning to unbutton his undershirt, and Taneleer allows it.
He is so tired he can only blearily permit the removal of his clothes from his body, and Fandral’s movements are smooth and easy; he has undressed thousands in his lifetime, of this Taneleer is sure, but this--
Fandral leaves him in his vest and his smalls, and he takes Taneleer by the hand; Taneleer spares a glance to his clothes, which Fandral has folded up to perfect neatness, and he allows Fandral to draw him toward the cot in the corner of the room, gently pushing him to lie down beneath the sheet. The bed here is so rarely something he utilises, but the mattress and pillows are soft... Cold.
Fandral pulls away, and Taneleer scowls after him, inexplicably annoyed, but within moments Fandral is returning with a plush, quilted blanket, which he gently lays over Taneleer’s body. Taneleer thinks of Matani, so far lost behind him, and he thinks of how she had grown slowly disillusioned with life, had merely... let go.
She had tucked a blanket around him, once or twice.
“I will begin to catalogue the new items,” Fandral says dutifully. “I merely--”
“No,” Taneleer says. “Lie down with me... I am cold.” Fandral makes not even a token protest - he is plainly eager to join Taneleer despite the narrowness of the small bed, and he kicks away his shoes and slides off his outer tunic, sliding into the bed with him. Taneleer delights in the heat that radiates from his AEsir body, and when Fandral curls his hand in Taneleer’s hair and encourages him to lay his head upon the pleasant broadness of Fandral’s chest, Taneleer moves willingly. He positions Fandral more to his liking, and then he grabs at him, squeezing his body closer and curling closer to his hip: Fandral shivers, and Taneleer feels his lip twitch. “Rub my shoulders,” Taneleer instructs.
“Alright,” Fandral murmurs, his breath warm against Taneleer’s brow, and Taneleer hums lowly as he lets his eyes close, lets Fandral drag his fingernails oh-so-pleasantly against Taneleer’s neck and back... Yes, this is something of an indulgence on Taneleer’s part, and yet, it is not he would not soon relinquish. “Let it not be said I am not a devoted attendant.”
“Shut up,” Taneleer mutters, and Fandral chuckles before he obeys.
