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( Hythlodaeus has grown accustomed to waking slowly when sharing his bed with Emet-Selch. Their lazy ritual is a far cry from the mornings they shared before Zodiark: those were too early, too hurried, one inevitably having to leave without the other on some matter of vague (or indeed, serious) importance. Now, he relishes in being able to simply enjoy the feeling of Emet's body pressed warm against his own — or in this case, encased in the tangle of his limbs. )

Mm.

( A smile curves against Emet-Selch's shoulder as he soaks in his warmth, in the solid feel of him, one palm stroking back and forth across the dusting of hair in the centre of his chest. Hythlodaeus wakes up in increments — little bit by little bit until he's cognizant enough to pull himself into a luxurious stretch, before finally leaning in and pressing a kiss to the lobe of Emet-Selch's ear. )

Are you awake?

( His voice is husky with sleep; he kisses again, then misceviously pinches at one of his nipples to encourage him into the waking world. The thing is, this isn't just any ordinary morning: apparently it's the day of Eorzea's Starlight Festival and Hythlodaeus has gifts for him. Unwrapping his limbs from around him, Hythlodaeus shifts just enough that he can prop himself up on an elbow beside him, his unbound hair a mess around his shoulders as he brushes the flash of white back from Emet's brow. When he speaks again there's a lilt of mischief in his tone: )

... Don't pretend, and make me look at your soul. You know I will.

...mngh.

[He grumbles as Hythlodaeus pinches his chest, eyes squeezed shut like he can get five more minutes if he just ignores him. Emet-Selch has woken in increments, too, gently roused by Hyth's persistent touch and jolted fully into wakefulness by the more forceful attention-- by now, he's awake enough, and he shifts to roll over onto his back. One golden eye cracks open to peer up at him-

And ah, for all that he complains about being woken, he thinks he might never tire of this. A sight he thought once he would never see again: Hythlodaeus all rumpled from sleep, leaning over him with a smile, ethereal in his beauty even with his messy hair cascading down his shoulder. More beautiful like this, maybe-- moreso for the fact that he's been here the whole night, that they can wake together again and Emet-Selch knows for a certainty he's not dreaming. (His nipple wouldn't still ache lightly from the pinch if he were. Damn the gremlin nature of his partner.)]

I suppose I am awake, yes, thanks to your persistence.

[There's no heat behind the grouching, perfunctory as it often is.]

Beautiful.

( Hythlodaeus just chuckles before leaning down to catch his lips in an easy kiss; chaste and quick, but no less warm with affection. With Emet on his back he moves to rest his hand against his chest again — he's always seeking touch, this one, wherever he can get it, even when his lover is making a good show of grouching and grumping about it. )

Come now, if not for my persistence we'd never have got anywhere.

( He teases, in clear reference to Emet's tendency to clam up, frown, and get to huffing instead of addressing matters of emotion. )

... I believe I'm supposed to wish you a Happy Starlight.

( At this, a curling smile settles across his lips. There's really no point in trying to play it cool: Hythlodaeus has been preparing for the day for about a week, decking his home out in wreaths, ribbons, and all manner of sparkling things in an attempt to fully embrace the festive season. Yesterday was given over to food preparation — it looks like it's going to be a peculiar hodgepodge of ancient recipies and new dishes — and he's evidently looking forward to getting it all in the oven. )

My very first! I'm glad to be sharing it with you — the starlight all my own.

Starlight still pales in comparison to the moon.

[He says it quietly, idly running a hand through Hyth's hair. Hythlodaeus is right; without his nudging they may have been nowhere at all. They haven't completely closed the lingering distance, yet, but now that Hyth knows more of what Emet-Selch has done and still intends to stay...

They're much closer to it. He has something of his own in mind for this Starlight business.]

But, given all your preparations, I suppose you have some plan in mind for sharing the day? Go wash, then, and I shall take my turn while you set to work.

( It isn't often that Emet-Selch is able to make Hythlodaeus blush, but his comment is so unexpected — so gently intimate — that he finds warmth rising to his cheeks all the same. He scoffs just the once before ducking to peck his lips again, before shifting to pull himself out of their cosy nest and stretch away the last of the sleep. )

Of course I do — you can't possibly imagine I'd let you get out of this, most eminent Emet-Selch.

( He teases, tossing a wink back over his shoulder before reaching for a hairtie. He pulls his mess of lilac hair into a bun atop his head as he reaches for his towel: )

All in good time, of course. I'd advise you to make the most of your chance for a nap while you can.

( And with that he heads through to the ensuite bathroom to begin washing up for the day, returning only when his breath is fresh, his body smells sweet, and his hair is glossy and clean. )

You never let me get out of anything.

[He mutters with a roll of his eyes, though again there's no real annoyance behind it. It's always a small victory, getting that sort of reaction out of Hythlodaeus, and he lets him trot off to wash with no complaint.

When Hythlodaeus returns, he'll find that Emet-Selch has indeed taken the opportunity for just a little more rest; he's dozing sitting up, propped against the pillows with his eyes shut. Not dead asleep, by the looks of him, and easily woken when Hyth comes back to the bed-- he stirs slightly at the sound of his footsteps, eyes blinking slowly open once more.]

-finished already, are you?

"Already?"

( Hythlodaeus repeats, one towel low on his hips while he dries off his hair with the other. He chuckles sightly as he leans down to drop a kiss to the top of Emet's head: )

You'd snooze the whole day away if I let you.

( Before padding over to the dresser to pull out a well-hidden piece of knitwear. It's a rich burgundy sweater - cable-knit, of course - with an utterly obnoxious snowman design on the front, and he bundles it into a ball before tossing it directly at Emet's head. )

When you've washed up, put that on. I hear it's tradition!

Edited 2023-01-03 16:10 (UTC)

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Backdated Starlight morning!

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