😴
@santozakiSEND 😴 TO CATCH MY MUSE ASLEEP IN YOUR MUSES BED
Her touch is like soft cotton; from tips of digit to ample tier, she exuded an ethereal like softness. It was odd, to say least, to find something or someone seemingly pure in such a world. One he’d given up on years ago when he was nothing more than hopeful child. If he were to compare her to anything, it would be that of brief transition from winter to spring; when weather began to grow warm, sunlight seemingly rising higher in sky, becoming much brighter than anytime before. Sana seemed like this. Similar to sunlight, exuding warmness, yet still lingering that mysteriousness of winter. Easily he could be pulled into her whimsy, dragged along by simple words, or subtle action. It wasn’t an infatuation nor anything regarding unexplained feeling. It was mere flow, like that of ocean wave to shore.
Now, curled up in a mass of blankets, it doesn’t come as surprise to himself to know he’d made home here. Her warmth was attracting, hot like a burning sun, and he were cold blooded reptile that needed to bask. With shift of weight upon mattress, frame is pressed closer to opposite, trim frame facing back to visage. He leans closer, not caring much to alarm her, even if she were unaware of his presence he doubts it would be minded much; wasn’t it her who always wanted to share bed with him? Another thing he didn’t quiet comprehend when it came to female. What was so addicting about his own presence? Like stated previously, he found himself nothing more than cold blooded reptile, a snake to be more fitting.
His father had made it clear his own talents lay in what had been taught over years thanks to man’s own influence and not Iseul’s hard-work. Hadn’t even batted single lash when young boy had not only passed every class of high-school level at mere age of sixteen nor when he’d managed to earn degree at nineteen. It seemed there was no pleasing his father. Then again, hadn’t he given up on that long ago? Soft snort exudes, tip of nose pressing betwixt thin shoulder blade of feminine frame; inhaling softly.
He doesn’t like closeness or more so cuddling with another frame. The only time he’d managed to sleep completely stilled beside another had been back in his training days; young boy tossed to wild, forced to build fire, and provide his own warmth with those he’d called comrade. Yet, in wee hours, it seems something to be managed. Tossing appendage over curve of waist, it seems as if he may fall asleep at any second -- of course, moment is short lived, his own natural tendency to ruin whatever moment may be forming come to life like wildfire. He pinches a mound of flesh, just along female’s hip, snorting once more, this time in amusement, “How long are you going to pretend to be asleep? Are you milking the fact I slept here last night?”
