Can we have some s o f t Thenamesh after some spice?
Thena blinked herself awake, staring up at the ceiling of one of Babylon's many murals. It just wasn't the mural from her ceiling.
Gilgamesh smiled as soon as she looked at him. It was a little surprising that he had woken before her, but then again, last night had left her senses...disengaged.
"Hey."
"Hey," she smiled back, letting him lean in so their lips could meet. Gilgamesh liked kissing--the simple act of touching in any way to convey affection and adoration.
Thena might have said she didn't understand such notions at one time. But being with Gilgamesh, she had no choice but to accept that every look he gave her--every smile, every lingering touch of his hand to her arm, all were just as heartfelt as his flowery words.
And she loved every one of them.
Gilgamesh continued to press soft, light kisses along her cheeks, letting their sighs and the rustle of the sheets underscore their little moment. He pulled her closer, his hands pressing to the skin of her back like a lizard would press to the warmth of a sunbathed rock.
Thena allowed it, purring against him as the sun offered a pleasant warmth, second only to the man next to her. "I have watch."
"No," he denied outright, with a light chuckle as he nestled his face against her breastbone and kissed over her cleavage, "stay."
Thena ran her fingers through his hair, "I would love nothing more, but I do believe my pigheaded brother will have something to say about it. And I don't want him storming in here and spoiling the mood."
Gil snorted, moving his kisses to her shoulder and then to her neck, "he'll check your room first. Probably won't even think to come here."
"Hm," Thena acquiesced, although it had less to do with him being right and more to do with the pleasant tingles she was getting from his kisses.
Gilgamesh loved showering her with little affections like this. She deserved them, and he enjoyed giving them. Even more selfishly, he enjoyed knowing that he was the only one to elicit such contentment from the Warrior Eternal.
Thena was the Goddess of War. She was a creature of strength, and solitude. She commanded respect, commanded any space around her, commanded her powers more efficiently than any army.
But Thena also liked it when he lavished her with kisses along her long column of a neck. She liked it when he scraped his facial hair over her clavicle and she liked it when he nuzzled his nose into her soft, silken hair. Thena was the epitome of strength, but she was also far too beautiful for him not to worship, no matter her protests.
"The only reason I'm leaving this bed, is to make someone some much needed food."
Thena gave him her most playful glare. She enjoyed a bit of mischief, he had come to learn about her. She liked pushing Ikaris around (out of her way), liked passing judgements on their teammates/family with Druig, liked laughing at the results of Sprite's pranks with her.
He loved her laugh.
"I do hope you're talking about yourself," she mused, giving him a smile that bared her teeth. She thought she could come off as menacing but really it was just cute.
Gil moved to capture her lips again. He tasted like the first sunbeams of morning. "I suppose I could eat."
"Very well," Thena let out a deeply feigned sigh, her fingers trailing over the broad expanse of his back muscles. "I trust you to bring back something I will enjoy."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Gil played along, rolling over onto his back and pulling her onto his chest, closer to the window. The rising sun made her positively glow. She emitted radiance the way the sun offered energy. His arms closed around her waist. He angled his head on the pillow to look at her with her chin on top of her hands on top of his chest. "And why wouldn't you be coming with me?"
"You said you would vacate the bed for sustenance," Thena pointed out, entirely correctly, too. She tapped her fingers against chest, "it was never a condition that I join you."
Gil laughed, and the rumbling in his chest sealed Thena even closer to him. She found it comforting to listen to the many sounds of his being alive. He drew his knees up, pulling her knees with one of them and settling her between his legs. "I thought it was a given that I wouldn't be leaving you."
"Not even for your beloved kitchen?" Thena let out a velvety laugh in return, slithering up to kiss him again.
"Nah," Gil breathed between lazy, languid kisses, passing between them like trees swaying together in the same breeze. "Let them starve."
"My poor family," Thena practically giggled, only encouraging Gilgamesh to kiss her more. "They will never forgive me."
"Don't care," Gil whispered against her lips. He rolled them again, so her back could absorb the sunrise and he could admire her glow. The sun was the only other entity allowed to kiss his Thena. "They want you, they have to get through me."
Thena gazed at him, all of her softness built up in her eyes. Her hand raised to his cheek, just as effective an affection as every touch of her lips to his. "Then I can know some peace."
Gilgamesh turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm. Her hand became heavy on his cheek as she sank into the pillow, of which he had given her the majority. He knew the sun's warmth would lure her back into sleep. She was like the many lizards scattered around this desert home of theirs. "I'll be right here."
Thena let out a last, soft purr as she let her eyes slip closed again. She let her hand slide from his cheek to lie limp over his side. It was merely a position in which she could sneak in a little extra rest, but it said what she wanted it to.
Gilgamesh acquiesced, of course. The hand just barely hooked over him was asking him to stay--to move closer again. He granted her wish, as he always did, and always would. He scooched closer to her, unminding of the sheets hopelessly tangled around their bodies, or the morning breeze travelling over his bare arms. He wrapped them around Thena, because if she was warm enough, then his own comfort would follow.
She buried her face in his chest, promising she was happy. And it was with that, that Gilgamesh could also fall back asleep, chasing her even into the bliss of real rest.
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❝ i don’t need thanks. i didn’t do it for you. ❞ ⸻ @13nth .
❛ who'd you do it for ? ❜ the question is posed with little hesitation and genuine curiosity . he wonders , perhaps , if he did it for himself . he'd envy him , were it the case . a certain amount of selfishness drives the soul , yet he feels his whole existence dedicated to the sanctuary of others , and grasping for control . the freedom to do something for oneself besides fight for it . . . we wishes it were something tangible he could hold .
he smiles for a moment , resisting the urge to ruffle his hair as he can not help but see ventus in his appearance , though the distinctions are clear as all the light touches . so much has happened . so much has changed . and roxas exists before him now , the tinge of bitterness in his tone understood , though he hardly takes it to heart . his empathy excuses all hurt . ❛ you don't have to tell me if you don't want to . ❜
his words are reassuring , like that of a caring elder brother . he thinks of eraqus , his father ; what words he'd like to hear from him . ❛ but whoever you did it for , i know they're grateful . ❜
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@rockheadcd asked : He's finally sitting still for once, in the midst of downpour over Liyue, with comb in hand. It took long enough to figure up the kiln hot enough to do what was needed to smelt some of the raw minerals he'd gathered and brought back on those excursions of his. So, for now, it was a quiet moment to work on Volkner's tails again, carefully pulling fine teeth through the ends of blond fur and working up to the root, sectioning out snags and holding them separate as to not hurt the fox too much. "They're getting softer, now.. I think you're growing some undercoat back?" It's taken quite the effort and even more time for Roark to be trusted with such a task, but.. little by little, the fruits of their labor were sprouting.
It’s almost funny in hindsight, in a way, the irony of how easily Volkner had eased into the touch, into allowing someone’s hands so close, letting himself be vulnerable like this. And yet Roark is the only one that would ever really earn this kind of trust, enough to even be allowed to handle the handful of tails like this.
( he’s really earned this. both of them have, after what the treasure hoarders had done, after it took so long to begin healing all over again and be just a little less of a mess and feel a little more like himself again, after it took so long to even realize who he was, to be allowed to be his own person, a person at all— )
The mild discomfort and lingering ache of old wounds that have been reduced to bruises and lighter cuts is still there, but easy enough to ignore by now, at least, instead waiting with perked ears for Roark to settle down right at his side to drape tails over his lap and let him get to work. ( they were at least recovering well enough after those events, the worst of the damage already healed for the most part... and yet he can’t help those lingering bits of distress looking them over, having to see them so damaged all over again, after it had already taken so long to be set on the path to recovery and starting to feel really free— )
He’s glad to focus on Roark’s work and careful touch instead.
And when he does finally focus again, snaps himself out of that trail of thoughts, Volkner blinks, actually taking a moment to look over at him and the fur gently threaded by the comb in his hands. He hasn’t dared touch them much since coming back home, the reminder of wounds through the heavy and tight bandages carried for so long enough to make him look away, but...
“Are you... sure about that?” He’s still so hesitant, glancing between him and the tail he was currently busy with, maybe overthinking it just a little more than he should right now— but finally, a wary hand reaches for it, brushing so, so carefully the fur near the tip of his tail, lightly at first, then combing fingers through it.
It feels... different. Not quite like what he was used to, but— it is nice. Not as rough as he remembers it, a little denser than before at times, his fingers not getting tangled up in anything as they run through it. It’s better. It’s more than what he could’ve ever hoped for.
“... Thank you.” There are little hints at a smile there, and the only thing holding him back from turning around and jumping right at Roark to hold him as tightly as he can manage is the other two still somewhat sensitive tails being in the way, so he has to settle for giving his free hand a grateful squeeze for now and patiently wait for later, but— for now, maybe it’s enough. He’s happy, happier than he thought he could ever be, when before he couldn’t even think he’d ever have this kind of light in his life, even with what it took to get this far and keep moving forward, and all he can really think of is how he needs to make sure Roark will know how much this means, how appreciated he is in his life.
( maybe he has earned something good, by now, after all. )
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