#this lord and master of fire and his sensitivity to the cold heheheh

[thedevillionaire]

small wonder

His legs are too long for her couch.

He doesn’t fit her modest little apartment in a multitude of ways – not in reputation, status, power or stupidly long legs oh my god anything, really. But somehow he’s here regardless, and not as the infamous leader society knows him, but simply as…hers. Simply someone, anyone. Just a man, quietly exhausted from a long and brutal winter’s day, his usual effortless incendiary strength subdued.

He’d sneezed as she’d answered the door, the biting chill stealing his intended greeting for its own.

And now he lies with his head resting in her lap, her thumb stroking a gentle repeating mantra along his shoulder. A barely audible sniffle, then a notably sharper one, as he murmurs something indistinct and rubs his reddened nose with a force belying his tiredness.

She trails her fingers through his hair, over the arch of his brow, soothing hypnotic featherlight,  and down the strong, straight line of his nose, that perfect profile she marvels at again and again, feels his nostrils flare against her touch. His breath catches, urgent, imperative, and she warms all over as his expression crumbles, the rest of the world on pause.

hh-HHH…

She lets her hand linger.

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