#probably roman type / onsen ish ?? maybe

[lrdvyke]

He delights within her affirmation. Never before does he dwell within the compliments, nor the praise from others, but here, now, and with her voice to speak them, Vyke revels. His heart, beating hot and anew, swells with the pride he holds. To do her justice, to make every move an honor to her: that is his desire. Now, to be connected as such with her, he cannot help but to let it last for as long as he is able. Thus, he hopes the night does not end so soon.

The kiss is but a promise to that. He leans up further against it, a smile still on his lips regardless.

❛ Such a wonderful thing, ❜ he hums in the break, eyes opening to her again. He does not want her to leave him, but there is a must in order to progress. So he takes her hand as it reaches for him, holding tight enough as his thumb ghosts along the cooling flesh along the back. ❛ Only if you join me. ❜ A seal with a kiss to her bloodied fingertips as he is led along, back through the corridors of the church and beyond. He knows the layout well enough, but he keeps his eyes solely on her and nothing more ( intoxicated, that is the word for it, this feeling he holds now ). Not even the statues, nor the flickering of the wall sconces divert his attention.

But there is another separation once they arrive at the baths. An open area, the water already there and warm to the touch. Vyke lets go of Lansseax's hand in favor of discarding his boots.

SHE OUGHT TO BE CONTENTED. vyke has received her gift with all she could have hoped for. he seems nigh to glow with it, a new radiance so seamlessly fitting into his own. indeed, she was right. the strength of dragons suits him most wonderfully. without hesitation, lansseax bends to his bidding.

she tastes it too then, the mortal dragon’s blood, the remnants of its heart on his tongue. the closest thing they have in common. it beats now, by way of inheritance, in vyke's chest instead. a better place for it to be. the hunger in his kiss is met with equal measure. this is, in this their own version of it, the final part of communion—to share between them its spoils. she might almost imagine it her own blood. lansseax opens herself to his hunger, offers him just as she takes for herself.

❛ i do, and i am. more than happy, ❜ she affirms, a hum in the small space between them where their noses touch. her fingertips trace along his jaw, then down, to press her palm to his chest. ❛ the heart of even mortal dragons is still an ancient thing. immortal. for all our differences, our hearts are the same. to know yours now something closer to mine… you, too, have honoured me. ❜ her smile returns, curling her lips even when she presses another kiss to his lips.

finally, and with some reluctance, lansseax retreats, crimson-lipped and momentarily satisfied, and reaches for his hand. ❛ now, let's clean you up, shall we? ❜