thechanged | SLEEPING BEAUTIES EPILOGUE: THE KISS

Beneath the starlight of the lounge, the Fairest sleeps, beautiful though he is battle-worn with bruises adorning his jaw, thorns yet entangled in his hair, and scratches marring his cheeks. A certain tiger, should he be on the prowl, will find the escort fallen behind a barricade of couches and chairs—it seems the Fairest had returned for something, despite knowing full well that the location had been overrun with vines.

But for who? What? Ah, only time will tell.

Edited 2013-09-13 04:26 (UTC)

Mason had to make everything difficult, didn't he. The tiger doesn't even know why he feels so terribly awkward about the thought of kissing the people who fell asleep, but the lack of a reasonable justification for not wanting to doesn't make it any less uncomfortable.

Still, there's that thought, the one that woke him, and it's what drives him to seek out those who were knocked out by the vines. He thinks of that Fairest man who fought by his side against the onslaught of the vines, and the last place he'd seen the servant had been in the Lounge. So the tiger skulks his way back over to that room, tail twitching in slight nervousness. The mass of vines all around makes it hard to see anything else in the room, and he nearly leaves before he sees a few strands of brilliantly silver hair entangled in the overgrown foliage.

He trots on over, but his trepidation about the actual kissing is cut short--he trips on a vine and falls, right into the servant's proverbial and literal lap. Sorry for the slightly rough impact, bro.

Don't sweat it, dude! It isn't as if the Fairest is aware of what's happened, after all. Still as death, the escort sleeps, blissfully unaware of the weight which has (more or less!) settled upon him. There is, perhaps, the slightest change in his breathing (the impact of the fall had been jostling!), though the escort remains woefully unresponsive still. Or rather, he remains woefully unresponsive until a hint of a smile plays upon his lips, starting as no more than a gentle curve, but deepening by increments and degrees as the seconds pass before blossoming into a full-fledged grin. The expression isn't for the tiger, of course, but who its intended so happens to be is anyone's guess.

One thing is certain: no answers will come if the Fairest remains asleep, now will they?

This would've been so much easier if his face had just--landed on the Fairest's face somehow, or something. Because now he's half-sprawled against the man, unable to properly maneuver himself off without risking pricking himself on the vines, and he finds himself uncomfortably aware of the fact that he's not wearing any clothes.

...Why that's any more of an issue now than usual (as much as can be usual when you can only remember a few days of your existence) eludes him, but wow he needs to get this over with ASAP okay. Still, he crawls forward as well as he can until he can reach the servant's mouth. It's really almost a shame to interrupt whatever he's dreaming about (it seems nice, if the way he's smiling is any indication), but he feels a bit like he might explode or something if he has to lie on top of this guy much longer, and presses a quick kiss to the other's lips before quickly retreating.

Yes, he is blushing like mad right now, shhhh.

It is nice. The dream, that is. The escort finds himself somewhere far, far away on a warm midsummer's day, amidst a gathering of people who know him, care for him, and more than that, resemble him in such a profound way that he can only think to call them family even if he cannot recall their names, their lives, their accomplishments, sorrows, and joys, outside of this one moment.

But one cannot have every happiness, he supposes, and this, for now, is enough—even if it is a dream which he will wake from with...!

A kiss? He's certain that's what it is (fleeting though the warmth had been, that had been the press of another's lips against his own, hadn't it?), and upon opening his eyes (ah, for how long had he been asleep?) he glimpses the tiger, flushed face and all. Instinctively (and he's a slow, sluggish feeling that this habit, at least, had been ingrained into him by someone once upon a time), he loops his arms around the Beast's middle, preventing him from retreating too far.

"Am I truly so poor at kissing, Hero?" Voice muzzled by sleep, the tease reads as a soft, intimate murmur. "Or is it simply that you're ashamed of taking advantage of me?"

Edited (wooords.) 2013-09-27 04:14 (UTC)

SLEEPING BEAUTIES EPILOGUE: THE KISS

for kotetsu.

i'm so sorry for the late, bb

no subject

omg i never thought i'd get to use this icon

kufufufufu no fu.