"Hmm," he grunted more than spoke, turning his back to the bed. Connor almost shook with it, the frustration with his father, her treatment, the unfairness of the worlds in which they lived. As it was, his muscles were strained against his skin as he set the toiletries back in the bathroom with more control than he thought he had left. They remained by the side of the sink in case she decided to use them in the morning. His lips tightened. The morning. That was going to be a fresh hell for her.
Fucking incubi.
With luck though, recovery would be easier from there. Save her freedom--which thanks to his father, she'd never enjoy again--perhaps she'd yet thrive. With a soft curse, he reached out an elegant index finger to flip off the vanity lights, leaving a light blue glow to emanate along the edges of the sink. When the main room lights were out as well, it was enough light to keep one from knocking shins and toes into everything in their path--but barely more than that. A glance was spared toward the bed just before he flipped those switches as well, the bright, damp curls licking like flames across pillows he hadn't truly shared for too long. Home, perhaps. One day.
Only, he had no right to presume it at all--not when she saw him as a monster, not when they had so far to go, not when she could prove to be history on repeat. Embellished, but resulting the same anyway. Better that he go on playing that the building he'd forged, the family he'd created and kept safe within its walls, by itself could be home.
He stifled a groan and stalked across the room to the walk-in closet. There, he hung the black leather belt on the back of the door before stripping and tossing the rest of his clothes down the narrow laundry chute. Nude, Connor finally leaned back against the wall, the wood paneling inside the closet cool against his bare skin. He scrubbed his palms over his cheeks, scruff abrading his hands, reminding him nothing stayed unchanged forever. How long he stood there with the door cracked, a glimmer of light shining into the master suite while he let the frustration seep from his skin into the wall, he didn't know.
But he had to go to her, their bed an uneasy space for an uneasy truce. Connor straightened and emerged into the suite. He didn't need the bathroom light, not with the path to the bed free of obstacles, but he was grateful for it now. His normal human eyes could pick out colors and features in the soft gleam--Piper's hair a muted gleam of sunlight in an otherwise grayscale of night. Her tresses had barely moved once she'd snuggled down, her breaths coming even, deep. Connor felt relief take up a rhythm inside his chest. He took a corner of the overfluffed comforter and slid in behind her.
He didn't want to wake her, so the brief rustling of blankets was done as gently as a man of his stature could...and one arm locked around her waist.
It wouldn't take him long to find a dreamless sleep, one that would be broken with a chime from the intercom, a far-too-chipper announcement of "Master? Breakfast is ready.", and would find his face pressed into the elegant, sweet curve of Piper's neck.
Fucking incubi.
With luck though, recovery would be easier from there. Save her freedom--which thanks to his father, she'd never enjoy again--perhaps she'd yet thrive. With a soft curse, he reached out an elegant index finger to flip off the vanity lights, leaving a light blue glow to emanate along the edges of the sink. When the main room lights were out as well, it was enough light to keep one from knocking shins and toes into everything in their path--but barely more than that. A glance was spared toward the bed just before he flipped those switches as well, the bright, damp curls licking like flames across pillows he hadn't truly shared for too long. Home, perhaps. One day.
Only, he had no right to presume it at all--not when she saw him as a monster, not when they had so far to go, not when she could prove to be history on repeat. Embellished, but resulting the same anyway. Better that he go on playing that the building he'd forged, the family he'd created and kept safe within its walls, by itself could be home.
He stifled a groan and stalked across the room to the walk-in closet. There, he hung the black leather belt on the back of the door before stripping and tossing the rest of his clothes down the narrow laundry chute. Nude, Connor finally leaned back against the wall, the wood paneling inside the closet cool against his bare skin. He scrubbed his palms over his cheeks, scruff abrading his hands, reminding him nothing stayed unchanged forever. How long he stood there with the door cracked, a glimmer of light shining into the master suite while he let the frustration seep from his skin into the wall, he didn't know.
But he had to go to her, their bed an uneasy space for an uneasy truce. Connor straightened and emerged into the suite. He didn't need the bathroom light, not with the path to the bed free of obstacles, but he was grateful for it now. His normal human eyes could pick out colors and features in the soft gleam--Piper's hair a muted gleam of sunlight in an otherwise grayscale of night. Her tresses had barely moved once she'd snuggled down, her breaths coming even, deep. Connor felt relief take up a rhythm inside his chest. He took a corner of the overfluffed comforter and slid in behind her.
He didn't want to wake her, so the brief rustling of blankets was done as gently as a man of his stature could...and one arm locked around her waist.
It wouldn't take him long to find a dreamless sleep, one that would be broken with a chime from the intercom, a far-too-chipper announcement of "Master? Breakfast is ready.", and would find his face pressed into the elegant, sweet curve of Piper's neck.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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