09-03-2018, 02:09 AM
He was awake for a long while. He tried extra hard not to move too much, not to go find those voices that called to him, that urged him out to play with them. Instead, he stared out into the beautiful darkness with quiet eyes, in a stillness his pattering, playful heart couldn’t match. Just those faded-stardust eyes and his Luster’s warmth around him.
He liked to watch her sleep, so quiet and peaceful. But the night was so distracting, so loud inside him, and tugged his eyes away relentlessly. So many times he nearly stood, nearly wandered out of their little den. He’d gotten lost that way before - a few times. She would always find him though, so it should be okay, right?
It worried her though. He didn’t like that. So he was trying. Extra hard this time.
Eventually, he did fall asleep. In the odd hours of the morning, his eyes drifted, nose buried in against her skin and breathing in her comforting scent of home. So deep would he sleep on these kinds of nights, that he didn’t even stir at her voice, or at her shifting. It was like nothing could wake him. The only reason he finally did was because of the touching. One or two he could sleep through, but there were more, soft brushes over his neck, over his withers. He sighed softly, barely mumbled incoherently, and settled right back in as close against her as he could snuggle, not quite ready to be awake yet.
He'd stayed up all night again, hadn't meant to.
He liked to watch her sleep, so quiet and peaceful. But the night was so distracting, so loud inside him, and tugged his eyes away relentlessly. So many times he nearly stood, nearly wandered out of their little den. He’d gotten lost that way before - a few times. She would always find him though, so it should be okay, right?
It worried her though. He didn’t like that. So he was trying. Extra hard this time.
Eventually, he did fall asleep. In the odd hours of the morning, his eyes drifted, nose buried in against her skin and breathing in her comforting scent of home. So deep would he sleep on these kinds of nights, that he didn’t even stir at her voice, or at her shifting. It was like nothing could wake him. The only reason he finally did was because of the touching. One or two he could sleep through, but there were more, soft brushes over his neck, over his withers. He sighed softly, barely mumbled incoherently, and settled right back in as close against her as he could snuggle, not quite ready to be awake yet.
He'd stayed up all night again, hadn't meant to.