[ a chaste kiss is still a kiss, still more than normal, and dextera draws in a surprised breath—but it's quiet, only distinguishable from his usual breathing for how quickly it comes, and the way he holds it for a beat afterwards. still—something's there, he thinks, in the back of his throat. his voice, waiting to come out.
dextera closes his eyes, as if hiding his sight could coax out sound. ]
Guren.
[ there's no dreamy fantasy to this one—his voice, just as soft as before, but whole and real and more than just a word when it's a name. dextera squeezes guren's hand, and he'll wait to be sorry later if it hurts.
no subject
dextera closes his eyes, as if hiding his sight could coax out sound. ]
Guren.
[ there's no dreamy fantasy to this one—his voice, just as soft as before, but whole and real and more than just a word when it's a name. dextera squeezes guren's hand, and he'll wait to be sorry later if it hurts.
they could have died. guren could have died. ]