Well, alright, he could; there was nothing technically preventing him from leaving the spot under the tree in his courtyard where he’d been eating dinner. His limbs were in good working order, and though he was certainly tired—it had been quite a big meal, thanks to all the good things Teomitl had brought over—it wasn’t to the point where he couldn’t drag himself to his mat. He could get up, go inside, wash his face, and ready himself for bed.
Except Teomitl had sat next to him, snuggled up close with the chill of the spring air as an excuse so transparent even Acatl could see through it, and had managed to actually fall asleep. So Acatl was trapped. Teomitl’s head was on his shoulder, hair gently tickling his neck, and he was afraid to move even to smooth it away. It was terribly soft.
I should do something. Anything. He should push him away, for starters. It was getting harder and harder to deny the ways of his own heart in recent months, and if Teomitl kept being pressed against him like this, warm and heavy and trusting, he was absolutely going to do something stupid. He risked lifting his free hand, intending to shake Teomitl’s shoulder.
“Mmm...” It was a breathy, barely audible noise. Acatl froze, afraid the man was waking up, but he only shifted closer and hummed something incoherent. As though he’d recognized Acatl even in sleep. As though he knew he was safe.
Safe. Hah. He let out a long sigh. It wasn’t so bad, really, no matter how his heart was pounding. Teomitl was just sleeping. He looked younger and softer like this, more vulnerable, and it pinched Acatl’s heart. When was the last time the man had rested like this? The way they were sitting, it had obviously been deliberate, but did that mean Teomitl’s feelings were anywhere near the same as his own? The thought filtered slowly through his mind. I want...
Still moving slowly and carefully, he stroked Teomitl’s cheek. The skin was soft here as it was everywhere else, with only a few patches of faint stubble he must have missed, and it sent Acatl’s heart up into his throat. Oh, he thought quietly, I love you.
There. He’d admitted it to himself, and the world hadn’t ended. Emboldened, he moved his attention to the thick hair currently flopping in Teomitl’s face, adorably undignified. He’d probably be furious if he knew I thought that, he mused wryly, but that didn’t stop him from gently brushing it back.
This time, Teomitl didn’t stir. In fact, the angle of his neck where he’d flopped bonelessly against Acatl’s shoulder was producing a faint but noticeable snore. It was...oddly restful, actually. Acatl was still trapped, but his heart rate was starting to slow down to normal, and the pine needles under him were soft. And between his cloak and Teomitl’s body, he was warm enough.
When his eyes started to slide closed, he didn’t fight it.
Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl
Acatl couldn’t move.
Well, alright, he could; there was nothing technically preventing him from leaving the spot under the tree in his courtyard where he’d been eating dinner. His limbs were in good working order, and though he was certainly tired—it had been quite a big meal, thanks to all the good things Teomitl had brought over—it wasn’t to the point where he couldn’t drag himself to his mat. He could get up, go inside, wash his face, and ready himself for bed.
Except Teomitl had sat next to him, snuggled up close with the chill of the spring air as an excuse so transparent even Acatl could see through it, and had managed to actually fall asleep. So Acatl was trapped. Teomitl’s head was on his shoulder, hair gently tickling his neck, and he was afraid to move even to smooth it away. It was terribly soft.
I should do something. Anything. He should push him away, for starters. It was getting harder and harder to deny the ways of his own heart in recent months, and if Teomitl kept being pressed against him like this, warm and heavy and trusting, he was absolutely going to do something stupid. He risked lifting his free hand, intending to shake Teomitl’s shoulder.
“Mmm...” It was a breathy, barely audible noise. Acatl froze, afraid the man was waking up, but he only shifted closer and hummed something incoherent. As though he’d recognized Acatl even in sleep. As though he knew he was safe.
Safe. Hah. He let out a long sigh. It wasn’t so bad, really, no matter how his heart was pounding. Teomitl was just sleeping. He looked younger and softer like this, more vulnerable, and it pinched Acatl’s heart. When was the last time the man had rested like this? The way they were sitting, it had obviously been deliberate, but did that mean Teomitl’s feelings were anywhere near the same as his own? The thought filtered slowly through his mind. I want...
Still moving slowly and carefully, he stroked Teomitl’s cheek. The skin was soft here as it was everywhere else, with only a few patches of faint stubble he must have missed, and it sent Acatl’s heart up into his throat. Oh, he thought quietly, I love you.
There. He’d admitted it to himself, and the world hadn’t ended. Emboldened, he moved his attention to the thick hair currently flopping in Teomitl’s face, adorably undignified. He’d probably be furious if he knew I thought that, he mused wryly, but that didn’t stop him from gently brushing it back.
This time, Teomitl didn’t stir. In fact, the angle of his neck where he’d flopped bonelessly against Acatl’s shoulder was producing a faint but noticeable snore. It was...oddly restful, actually. Acatl was still trapped, but his heart rate was starting to slow down to normal, and the pine needles under him were soft. And between his cloak and Teomitl’s body, he was warm enough.
When his eyes started to slide closed, he didn’t fight it.