@UserCRU0R “If you were the moon, then let me be the sea—so I could constantly watch over you and bask under your affection,” between bated breaths and whispered decay, he turned his face to kiss the side of your head, “Of course, mon coeur. I love you.”
It didn’t take him too long to reach the café, for yesterday’s ire was already an old story beneath stitched fabrics and signed payments. Agasias would bring a muffler with him just in case, draped in another set of clothes, also just in -
@UserCRU0R Yet nothing ever beat the very feeling of his supposed appellation on your tongue—something he had thought would be too strong for you. And there he was, beyond the very audience of gods, pulling you flush against him in an embrace so tight not even mishaps dared to separate you.