[ his presence says a great deal, and thranduil slides in beside him. they have caught iorveth between them, and so it is iorveth thranduil leans over to kiss gwenaelle on the cheek, a murmured 'beloved' following before he relaxes back onto his third of the bed. and he too drapes an arm, though he catches both of them in his reach, and his hand stays on gwenaelle's hip.
this is just as important to him as the sex. his nose ends up near iorveth's hair-- he will be picking it out of his teeth in the morning-- but here he finds what he was so adrift without but an hour and change ago. ]
( slipping back into bed, gwenaëlle hadn't gone to sleep; had lingered on the edge of it, curled to fit against iorveth, breathing out warm against his skin, tapping restless nonsense patterns against his side. quiet, because she hadn't felt well-served by speaking, earlier, and-
does not, still, when thranduil returns and does not immediately return. it's unfair to expect other than what he does, but it still lodges somewhere behind her ribs that he hesitates. if this is what speaking does then she should never do it again, because she loathes it. she nearly says as much, overtired and overstressed and wanting to undo the past few hours entirely, promise that she'll never do anything like that again, that she'll swallow it next time, that she'll make herself quieter and smaller,
iorveth forestalls it, gesturing thranduil to bed; she will do nothing by speaking but spark more of the same.
she rolls onto her back and stares up at the tent's ceiling. it will be a long time until she sleeps. )
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this is just as important to him as the sex. his nose ends up near iorveth's hair-- he will be picking it out of his teeth in the morning-- but here he finds what he was so adrift without but an hour and change ago. ]
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does not, still, when thranduil returns and does not immediately return. it's unfair to expect other than what he does, but it still lodges somewhere behind her ribs that he hesitates. if this is what speaking does then she should never do it again, because she loathes it. she nearly says as much, overtired and overstressed and wanting to undo the past few hours entirely, promise that she'll never do anything like that again, that she'll swallow it next time, that she'll make herself quieter and smaller,
iorveth forestalls it, gesturing thranduil to bed; she will do nothing by speaking but spark more of the same.
she rolls onto her back and stares up at the tent's ceiling. it will be a long time until she sleeps. )