Myr doesn't know all Hector's story--or much beyond a tiny, tiny fraction of it--but there is enough of a hint of awkward melancholy about him that that question stirs something protective in the deer's breast.
(Everett's so fond of Hector, too; and as Myr well knows, the diplomat's affections are strongest for those most in need of them.)]
I do like it, [Myr affirms, and hesitates just a breath before adding,] and I'd like that, too.
[Whatever a Faun's instincts, and whatever renewed confidence Myr's found in his more amorous pursuits since coming to Aefenglom, there's still something fraught and tender in these first moments of courtship. Just don't think about how it could go wrong--]
[When Myr agrees, Hector hesitates over the tin, seeking out the perfect bite-sized morsel to offer up to the deer. The flirtation he tacks on have him awkwardly clearing his throat. A reminder of Hector's completely uninhibited petting of Myr's sleek fur...and his ears, until Myr had gently cautioned him to pause.
There's a small comfort in the fact that Myr can't see him blush. He takes a breath, and forces himself to settle on a piece. He lifts it, lets it drip a droplet of honey back into the tin, and brings it slowly to Myr's lips.]
Open. [He prompts, though he doubts Myr needs the prompting when they're leaned in close like this, with the honeyed treat just barely grazing against his lips.]
I, um, recall that you had a talent yourself.
[Hector wasn't the only one petting that night, at least.]
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
no subject
Myr doesn't know all Hector's story--or much beyond a tiny, tiny fraction of it--but there is enough of a hint of awkward melancholy about him that that question stirs something protective in the deer's breast.
(Everett's so fond of Hector, too; and as Myr well knows, the diplomat's affections are strongest for those most in need of them.)]
I do like it, [Myr affirms, and hesitates just a breath before adding,] and I'd like that, too.
[Whatever a Faun's instincts, and whatever renewed confidence Myr's found in his more amorous pursuits since coming to Aefenglom, there's still something fraught and tender in these first moments of courtship. Just don't think about how it could go wrong--]
You are quite good with your hands.
no subject
There's a small comfort in the fact that Myr can't see him blush. He takes a breath, and forces himself to settle on a piece. He lifts it, lets it drip a droplet of honey back into the tin, and brings it slowly to Myr's lips.]
Open. [He prompts, though he doubts Myr needs the prompting when they're leaned in close like this, with the honeyed treat just barely grazing against his lips.]
I, um, recall that you had a talent yourself.
[Hector wasn't the only one petting that night, at least.]