#aether was meant to be in port ormos for like. 3 days now

[viaetor]

❛ come back to bed. ❜ 🤭

ㅤㅤ @ayahimesㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤDIALOGUE PROMPTSㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤaccepting!

ㅤㅤmornings in inazuma tickled the skin. its half-cold, half-warm embrace made anyone feel butterflies waltzing through their stomachs, invading the veins of fools with freshly-picked nectar—from his abdomen to his chest, to his neck, to his mouth, it caressed him in the shrivelling fever of a lover. mornings in inazuma also had a special taste to them. deliciously peachy they were, soft and sweet, like the well-kempt petals of the trees in the garden just outside their bedroom’s fusuma. it impregnated his clothes for days, like lipstick marks that he didn’t want to wash off. mornings in inazuma also had an intoxicating perfume to them. as daybreak’s dew from a cold night settled, smelling like promises untold by the gentle wind of hope, it seemed to incite the imagination of past and upcoming nights. he always knew when his shoulders could relax whenever that aroma purged his senses from any and every worry. but what he loved the most about the mornings in the land of thunder was how peaceful everything felt through blueish imprints of pink. or at least, those were his mornings. and he loved them. her, that is.

ㅤㅤif only for a day, he wished that mornings could last longer, stretch themselves for a few hours or more. but the sun had long risen through the heavenly veil and songbirds were starting to wake people for their duties. his ship would soon sail for sumeru, too. so he had moved from the sheets, leaving an empty space in their shared bed, but trying to compensate for it with a kiss on her forehead. it seemed to work for a while—a low grumble followed by a smile, and she turned her naked back away to hug her pillow instead. cute… was ayaka always this touchy and needy? and was it wrong of him to enjoy it that much? he leaned on to kiss her shoulder while buttoning up his pants, careful as to not touch with his lips a region that he had bitten ‘til it turned purple. apologies were long due, that was for certain—but he’d have to make up for her another time. for that and all the “little marks” he had left on her thighs and breasts, caring not for how deep his fangs drilled. oops? at least she seemed to like it.

ㅤㅤcome back to bed.

ㅤㅤit was when he was just done dressing himself up, scarf already covering ayaka’s playground on his neck from last night, that he heard her calling. hoarse and loving, as if she was asking for a drink to alleviate herself. hair still loose, the traveller chuckled, shaking his head. this was dangerous—why is it that his body moved on its own, gravitating towards her as he knelt in front of the futon? was it because her words as a princess held power? or was he simply seduced by her tongue and very being? a bit of everything—some poets would claim that the shirasagi himegimi had conquered the heart of the traveller from the stars, grounding him to that land. they wouldn’t be wrong, but he was too busy guiding his gloved palms through her inner thigh, spreading them apart so he could kiss her just above her knee with a sheepish grin. he could go lower, his eyes confessed, but not yet. a bite. this was supposed to be a warning. well, kind of. “if i go back to bed, it won’t be so we can sleep more.”

ㅤㅤ“but why do i get the impression that you wouldn’t mind that? or making me late again, for that matter?” perhaps mornings could stretch themselves longer, after all. he just had to keep kissing ayaka and time would freeze. he was meant to leave two days ago, after all.