Still struck by the gesture and her thoughtfulness itself, but now there’s an edge of baffling amusement bubbling beneath the surface, Stephen’s laugh deepening as he suddenly closes the distance and kisses her: more ferocious than one might expect for a drowsy morning, now urgent, pressing. He loves her so much. He cannot express how much.
When they finally break for air, he tries to explain: “I used to collect watches. I had a sprawling collection, on display like you collect glass eyes. Luxury items, limited editions.” Should he even mention the full context? Fuck it, he’s always been honest with her: “I had a favourite from Christine, which I used to wear but— this is my new favourite. And I don’t… This is absurd, you need to see.”
He’s lost his train of thought and the sentences keep chopping themselves into pieces, not even knowing where to begin, so in the end he just leans over (almost tipping the two of them) to fumble with the drawer on his side of the alcove. Inside is his own gift, two wooden cases which he presses carefully into Gwenaëlle’s hands: one which won’t open easily, another which will.
And he’s laughing: “I also colluded with Wysteria to get you something from Orzammar, I low-key think she despised my choice—”
no subject
Still struck by the gesture and her thoughtfulness itself, but now there’s an edge of baffling amusement bubbling beneath the surface, Stephen’s laugh deepening as he suddenly closes the distance and kisses her: more ferocious than one might expect for a drowsy morning, now urgent, pressing. He loves her so much. He cannot express how much.
When they finally break for air, he tries to explain: “I used to collect watches. I had a sprawling collection, on display like you collect glass eyes. Luxury items, limited editions.” Should he even mention the full context? Fuck it, he’s always been honest with her: “I had a favourite from Christine, which I used to wear but— this is my new favourite. And I don’t… This is absurd, you need to see.”
He’s lost his train of thought and the sentences keep chopping themselves into pieces, not even knowing where to begin, so in the end he just leans over (almost tipping the two of them) to fumble with the drawer on his side of the alcove. Inside is his own gift, two wooden cases which he presses carefully into Gwenaëlle’s hands: one which won’t open easily, another which will.
And he’s laughing: “I also colluded with Wysteria to get you something from Orzammar, I low-key think she despised my choice—”