Their bedroom was still dark when Ralehaut woke up. Despite the cold that had come with the night, the bed sheets on his side had been pushed down by his feet again. When he realized he was shivering, Ralehaut told himself it was from the chill that had settled under his scales. He knew that was not the full truth, though. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d woken like this with the taste of bile in his throat and his heart beating hard enough to hear it in his eardrums.
He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt of, and though that may at first seem like a comfort it was often the opposite. It was easier when he knew exactly where these midnight terrors came from. He could eventually rationalize that there was no actual danger and hopefully find rest again. On nights like tonight there was nothing he could attach that fear to which meant it instead came from everywhere. That dreadful chill washed through him, not from the cold but from the unwavering feeling in the back of his mind that something was hiding in the dark. He couldn’t close his eyes and he couldn’t move, terrified that the slightest sound may draw its ire.
A soft snort to his right jolted him from his paralysis. The hint of soft blue light that was coming through their windows outlined the brawny dragonborn laying on his side next to him. Whatever Ral had done in his sleep to push his covers away had pulled them down past Lore’s waist, uncovering his heavier red shoulder scales and the softer tan ones of his chest and stomach. Even though Lore was nearly as exposed to the night air as Ralehaut, his melodic, heavy breathing revealed him to still be sound asleep. Even for a fire-breathing dragonborn, Lore had what seemed like a supernatural resistance to freezing temperatures.
Ralehaut watched his fiancé for some time. There was just enough light for his eyes to trace over Lore’s boxy snout then follow the harder ridges that ran up around his eyes and eventually into his horns. Lore’s mouth hung open slightly, and his head was resting on his left fist with his elbow pointed at Ralehaut. He could tell from how Lore’s eyelids flickered that he was dreaming, and Ral hoped his love’s dreams were better than his own. He knew that he was doing this to distract himself from the darkness and that feeling still in the back of his mind, but it was easier to ignore that now. Ral had developed a habit of stealing glances at Lore when he wasn’t looking. Even though he knew Lore would probably laugh and act flattered if he caught his smaller boyfriend’s enamored gazing, part of Ral was still embarrassed by it. It was why he couldn’t help himself now from drinking in Lore’s features while this close to him. Part of it was certainly just from how handsome he found Lore, but the thought that kept repeating in his mind was that this was the person who had chosen to love him.
It was only a few years ago that Ralehaut had believed he was devoid of any redeeming qualities. Even before the blood hunters had beat any remaining sympathy out of him, Ralehaut had spent most of his life distrustful, distant, and quick to lash out at any perceived slight. He certainly hadn’t been that way because he enjoyed it, but any time he tried to change it just led to him hurting more than if he hadn’t made the effort. His life’s meaning was to fight, and he had found a place where that was useful. It wasn’t until a red dragonborn had shown him an undeserved generosity and kindness that he realized how big of a piece of himself he was missing. The subsequent years had revealed the true gentleness of Lore’s heart, but they had also done something that Ralehaut never would have expected. He began to understand why Lore loved him, and why he was worthy of being loved. It was a realization that took him a very long time to accept, and even to this day Ralehaut can still hear that voice that says he’s deluding himself and simply ignoring how terrible and broken his soul truly is. When that happens now, he just thinks of Lore and knows that he believes in Lore’s love more than his own self-hatred.
A slight stir from Lore brought Ralehaut back to the present, and he worried for a moment that he had somehow woken him with his thoughts alone. He let out a silent sigh as Lore’s breathing remained unchanged, his eyes still lightly dancing beneath their lids. The distraction suddenly made Ral realize how much he was shaking, this time truly from the cold. He moved for a moment to carefully pull the sheets back over himself, then paused. Without even touching him, he could feel the heat emanating through the air from Lore like he was laying next to a bed of hot coals. The urge to try to share in that warmth was overwhelming, though he was still held back from the thought that he shouldn’t disturb Lore’s rest just because he’s cold. Ralehaut grappled with the conflicting desires long enough that his fingers and the tip of his tail began to go numb. Finally, he gave in. He knew Lore would chastise him for his hesitance if Ral’s shaking woke him anyways.
As carefully as he could, Ralehaut slowly began shifting himself towards the larger dragonborn. He winced with every unintentional noise the bed made, but the draw of Lore’s body heat was enough to keep him from withdrawing. Eventually, Ralehaut was close enough that the only thing separating the two was Lore’s right arm, which was laying over his stomach. This close to him, the difference in size between the two dragonborn was accentuated. Lore had nearly two feet in height over Ral when standing, and his shoulders were wide enough to match the bronze dragonborn’s own a time and a half over. Ralehaut certainly had plenty of muscle, but he would be considered wiry compared to most dragonborn. Lore on the other hand had a proud, brawny frame that could overshadow even a goliath. His chest and arms were stacked with muscles, but a paunchy stomach and broader complexion added to his impression of being a friendly giant rather than intimidating.
Ralehaut lifted Lore’s right arm with great care and slowly draped it over his own side, giving him room to close the distance between them. It took actual willpower for him not to make a noise as he gently pressed himself up against Lore’s soft chest and stomach. Warmth radiated into Ralehaut’s scales and made him forget about the cold immediately. It was like he had just submerged himself in a hot spring. He brought his arms and legs in, trying to get as much of himself closer to Lore as he could. Making sure not to scrape him with his horns, Ral finished by tucking his head against the small, soft scales of Lore’s neck. He finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His success was cut short, though, as he felt Lore quietly clear his throat and move his arm to press against the small of Ralehaut’s back in a way that couldn’t be involuntary. A feeling of guilt squirmed into Ral’s throat.
“Sorry,” he whispered, almost pulling away, but Lore’s arm hugged Ral tightly to his chest.
“What for?” Lore breathed with a small yawn, more as a statement than a question. Ralehaut felt him begin rumbling in his throat, and his chin moved down to more snuggly hold Ralehaut’s head. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Ralehaut still felt bad about waking Lore, but it would be useless trying to apologize further. “Just dreams.” Lore made a sound of acknowledgement, and it was a few moments before he responded.
“You want to talk about them?” His voice was soft and sincere, but Ralehaut shook his head the little that he could.
“Not really.”
“Okay.” Lore adjusted himself and Ralehaut could feel his warm breath running down his neck. Lore’s left hand moved from his own head to Ral’s and cupped against his cheek.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Ralehaut wasn’t able to fully catch the whimper that escaped his throat. His face flushed, and he pressed it into Lore’s warm palm, willing himself not to start crying. He focused on the smell of embers that still clung to Lore’s hand. The first words he wanted to say nearly came out but Ralehaut held them back.
I don’t deserve you.
No, maybe he didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. He had said things like that so many times, and it always came from the doubts he had of his own worth. Lore never wavered though, each time he would insist Ralehaut was wrong. Maybe then, it was time that Ralehaut started believing him.
“I am too.”
The rumble in Lore’s chest deepened, and Ralehaut smiled.
