crescentview | 🌲 winter catchall 🌲

[ Trahearne lets go this time.

He rolls onto his back, the bright sun tickling his eyes behind his eyelids. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes, but immediately drapes his arm over his face to block it out. That's too much. ]

What time is it?

[ Voice groggy and hoarse. They sure went hard last night. ]

Don't know. [Syrlya reaches a hand to rub his eyes before craning his neck back to look at Trahearne. A weary smile tugs on his lips.] Morning.

[It's morning to them.]

[ Trahearne chuckles a bit, tilting his head out of his arm to squint one eye at Syrlya in turn. ]

So it is.

[ He leans over on one arm and reaches to cup Syrlya's cheek with the other, dipping down to gently plant a kiss to his lips. ]

Good morning.

[Syrlya meets the kiss tenderly, idle thoughts about how Trahearne's hand feels a little stick... and so do Syrlya's, and a lot of other places on his body.]

Mm... are you ready to clean up and have breakfast? [Even under the exhaustion his stomach is running on empty. And maybe that will perk him up.]

[ Trahearne hums, hand drifting down Syrlya's jaw and neck as his eyes come open. Oops. There's some mess on his face now. But he glosses over that as his fingers brush over the bite marks over Syrlya's neck, shoulder. Memory of a lot of these is hazy. ]

Not particularly.

[ As his eyes come up again, there's a cheeky glint to them. ]

But we should, anyway.

[They'll be discovering new things for the rest of the day.

Syrlya just smiles lazily in response, nudging Trahearne to get up first so he has room.]

[ Fiiine, he'll get up.

Trahearne rolls away at the nudge and slowly gets to his feet. There's a little groan as he unfurls himself to his full height and stretches; he can feel sticky substances over him cracking on his skin as he does so, and he realizes just how messy things really got last night.

As he places a hand on his shoulder to massage his neck--it's sticky there, too, from torn skin--his eyes drift up to the clock hanging on the wall, and, ]

--Syrlya. It's two in the afternoon.

[ No wonder it's so bright?! ]

Oh. [Well, that would explain why it's so bright. They must have been up all night, so it makes sense.

He pushes himself to sit slowly, past the dull age of his limbs--but a hiss escapes through his teeth as he twists and his hips protest the movement. Now that he thinks about it, moving his legs at all feels unsteady. Is he going to be able to get up?

He makes an attempt to scoot towards the edge of the bed, anyway.]

[ The hiss catches Trahearne's attention, and he glances back at Syrlya, concerned. He watches Syrlya (try to) scoot towards the edge of the bed before he starts moving back towards the bed, and his new spouse. ]

Is everything all right?

I'm fine, just--[He stops when the fumbling of his legs is just embarrassing, and his arms aren't enjoying holding him up either.] Just still a little sore. How... long did we have sex last night?

[ Trahearne hums, running the cleaner of his hands down Syrlya's arm as his eyes scan his body for obvious sign of injury. He. Hm. Was he trying to eat Syrlya last night? ]

I can't say. [ He blinks, then glances at the clock, like it might give him an answer. ] It was nearing five the last time I looked at the clock. So... [ He looks back to the other, sheepish smile on his face. ] ...a while, it seems.

[ Trahearne is sore, but he's clearly not falling apart like Syrlya is. He's been told he can be rough but--oops. ]

Let me help you. [ He scoops his arms around Syrlya and lifts him into a bridal carry. His own legs feel a bit sore as he stands, but it seems he has enough strength to hold both of them. For now. ]

[Syrlya's grip is strong, but he still bites his tongue as his hips are moved--that's not as bad as wiggling around himself but. Oof.

It will be quickly clear the concentration of the pain is between his legs. Even if he was gentle, six hours is a long time to have a dick thrust in you.]

So. Bathroom?

[ Trahearne's eyes stay on Syrlya's face, gauging his reactions. He doesn't like to see Syrlya in pain, but...is he sorry? Hmm.

He plants a kiss to his forehead. ] Bathroom.

[ He makes his way across the room, ignoring the soreness in his hips, and bumps the door to the bathroom open. Gently, he sets Syrlya down on the edge of the tub before reaching to get the shower started. ]

How are your arms?

[ Will Trahearne be bathing him, too. ]

They--whoa--! [Syrlya cannot in fact balance on the edge of the tub, flailing his arms back to grab the opposite side as he slides into it and folds uncomfortably.]

... They're all right.

[ Sorry, Syrlya... Trahearne can't help but chuckle lightly at the sight. Oh, no. He really wrecked him. ]

I'm sorry. [ is he though

Trahearne leaves the shower alone as he settles on the edge of the tub beside Syrlya, then wraps his arms around him to pull him onto his lap. He will simply have to keep him in place himself. What a burden. With one arm firmly around Syrlya's waist to keep him in place, he turns the shower on and grabs the nozzle. If his arms are all right, then they can share this duty, at least. ]

[Absently Syrlya wonders if sitting in the tub wouldn't be better. Like a bath. But maybe Trahearne intends to be quick. They're probably both hungry.

He grabs one arm for support, the other groping around blindly for soap. Given how sticky things are, they'll definitely need more than water.]

[ Trahearne does want to be quick. He, at least, is pretty hungry.

He splashes the cool, refreshing water over them, rinsing where he can easily reach. Where he finds a sticky spot, he rubs briefly with his hand and lets the water do the rest. It's obviously not enough--the soap will be essential--but he'll let Syrlya take care of that.

Speaking of, he has his hand tightly at Syrlya's waist, giving him support while he fumbles around for the soap. He trusts he'll ask for help if he needs it. ]

🌲 winter catchall 🌲

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