🍺 with matthias ; wrathfulkiing ~ :3c
send 🍺 to kiss my muse while drunk (@wrathfulkiing)
While certainly not unheard of, it was nevertheless uncommon for Matthias to not only suggest, but to then prepare for a night in together. Not that he was dry in his passions, and - indeed - not that Frederic himself was always the more proactive of the two when it came to such dates: Matthias simply preferred, whenever they did have an evening together, to go out, to make an outing of it– Perhaps quite unsurprisingly so, given his extroversion to his husband’s introversion.
Nevertheless, Frederic cannot help finding a pleasant surprise in the cosy evening plan ahead of them.
It was not without occasion, and that might well have been what inspired them both to ensure the night was particularly romantic. No matter how many times Frederic himself had wanted to - and tried to - allay the other’s fears and frustrations about the first length of time they’ve spent apart since marriage (that ‘it’s only for a month’, that ‘phone and video calls do exist in this day and age, remember’), he knew as much as Matthias that they would likely both be lonelier apart than either would care to admit. It is only expected, then, that they fill their night in together with all the clichés of romanticism, ahead of all those evenings they’d lose – the whole house sings with the music from their sound system; Matthias had made a special effort to prepare a fine meal, despite both little after finishing admitting that perhaps it would have been best if Frederic had cooked after all.
And the - red, red!, the colour of passion - wine flows freely, but not in dangerous excess.
If truth be told, he had always preferred this intimate kind of extravagant to his husband’s own, if mostly affected, preference to show off their love to the world (–or at least to the portion equally-wealth to attend the selfsame venues). Contained within it was a warmth and a homeliness neither had previously ever really enjoyed, and him more so than Matthias. Tonight, they make up for time lost in the past as well as to be lost in the near-future.
As the evening yields to the night-proper, they begin to wind down into a languidness no less self-indulgent than their evening thus far. Shoulder to shoulder, they lounge awhile, preoccupied with no particular activity as they find themselves instead most content in each other’s company. The wine is still poured, and conversation still flows, though it has now slowed to a calmer pace: the drink has made them drowsy as well as warmth, and they only delight in as much.
The night ends with a kiss, as so many do, but it is softer, less hungry than the sort Matthias often relished… And as his lips thereafter brush away from Frederic’s, and as his head first sinks to rest against his chest, then lingers there for longer than is preferable, Frederic himself is loath to bring their night - though still early - to a close.
“Come on, then – to bed.” He swears he hears some coquettish murmur, muffled by the fabric of his shirt– But Matthias’s voice is too slurred for him to humour it with anything but a light laugh. “…Don’t be so childish. You need to rest– But we’ll both wake early tomorrow, okay? We’ll spend a little more time together then, and I’ll see you off.”
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