[ his beloved prince makes a promise that graves will hold him to, but not now -- not when he's trying to care for himself. he pauses when he feels it, those lips brushing along his jaw; and he wonders if it's by accident or on purpose, even when his pulse leaps and he's never been more aware of his proximity.
he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.
no subject
he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.