[He still remembers a time when he would have gotten angry at the way she tries to tend to him, as if he was too good to listen to his physician of all people. He remembers, as he had spirals deeper into his self loathing, the nights he'd been too stubborn and embarrassed to call her for help. All of that is gone now and he sinks willingly into the circle of her arms, her voice a grounding whisper in his ear. He closes his eyes and lets himself turn his focus to each breath, in and out, measured, like he'd learned.
It's not an instant fix, but it helps, as does the sudden waft of air that somehow manages to be less muggy than their room. Or at least it feels that way. He lays on his beck, feeling like an utterly inglorious mess and not caring a single bit about it. He wants to go to her, but he knows better and satisfied himself with watching from the bed. It doesn't matter how disheveled she looks- she's still beautiful.]
I'm not going anywhere. [He manages to croak out a laugh and closes his eyes again when she leaves to resume counting his breaths. It might have been meditative if he hadn't been sprawled out on a cheap bed with his dick out.
Her return is greeted with a soft grunt, his rasp in his voice mostly gone. Now it's just something as mundane as a dry throat. He kisses her back and lingers there against her lips.]
Much better, thank you. [He should probably sleep with the mask on tonight, he thinks. Outside, thunder rumbles, but it's distant and if there's lightning to go with it, it's too far away to be seen. The sound of the rain from the open window has turned from a hissing downpour into something a little more reasonable as well. If it holds, they could continue on into the mountains in the morning. It's a sobering thought, but he pushes it aside along with an errant strand of her hair as a slow grin starts to creep its way across his expression.]
I guess I can say now that you really do take my breath away.
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It's not an instant fix, but it helps, as does the sudden waft of air that somehow manages to be less muggy than their room. Or at least it feels that way. He lays on his beck, feeling like an utterly inglorious mess and not caring a single bit about it. He wants to go to her, but he knows better and satisfied himself with watching from the bed. It doesn't matter how disheveled she looks- she's still beautiful.]
I'm not going anywhere. [He manages to croak out a laugh and closes his eyes again when she leaves to resume counting his breaths. It might have been meditative if he hadn't been sprawled out on a cheap bed with his dick out.
Her return is greeted with a soft grunt, his rasp in his voice mostly gone. Now it's just something as mundane as a dry throat. He kisses her back and lingers there against her lips.]
Much better, thank you. [He should probably sleep with the mask on tonight, he thinks. Outside, thunder rumbles, but it's distant and if there's lightning to go with it, it's too far away to be seen. The sound of the rain from the open window has turned from a hissing downpour into something a little more reasonable as well. If it holds, they could continue on into the mountains in the morning. It's a sobering thought, but he pushes it aside along with an errant strand of her hair as a slow grin starts to creep its way across his expression.]
I guess I can say now that you really do take my breath away.