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[animatedsmoke]

Who: Theseus, Asterius
When: Canon

Where: Theseus's bedroom

What: Cuddling

Time was immaterial in an Underworld that never experienced day or night, but its residents were still provided bedrooms to retire to for whenever they deemed it appropriate to engage in sleeping or other activities.

Such as now in Elysium, where the Champion of Elysium is making thorough use of his bed. Theseus is naked, has no idea where his clothes are or when exactly they were lost, and couldn't care less. Ordinarily the King was the first to condemn idleness and laziness, but this time he must have let sleep take him immediately after making love to his partner.

He can already feel the inexorable pull toward consciousness. Theseus scowls with his eyes still closed, as if to express irritability toward temporariness itself. He turns to directly face immaculately woven sheets, holding onto every moment with Asterius for as long as he can.

Comments

[taurid]

Asterius, on the other hand, has not slept.

It doesn't matter, really. Elysium boasts magicks of a strange, sinuous sort; he could forgo sleep and sustenance for eternity and feel no less a warrior for it. The shades of old, the ones who have been here so long that the River Lethe's waters have wiped all memory of humanity from them, rarely indulge in the coquetry of indulging base needs. One day, Asterius may join their number.

Today, he has forgone for a different reason. Theseus rest easy in the curve of his monstrous arm, sleep unmarred by dreaming. Asterius cannot rip his gaze away, as hard as he may try. Elysium's magicks are many, but he has approached them all with the wariness of one who knows that he belong. Theseus has no magic to speak of, not in the way of the gods, but still his allure is - indescribable. Asterius does not know what to do with the gift of it. Does not know how to calm the warmth that pools beneath his ribcage where a heart might have pumped, were he still amongst the living.

It cannot be a dream, because Asterius has never dreamed. Not even within Elysium. It cannot be madness or delirium, because Theseus slumbers now by his side, making soft sweet sleep-sounds. If Asterius takes his gaze away for but a moment, perhaps this will all dissolve away, leaving him with nothing but the River Styx and Charon's grim countenance to guide him lower and yet lower into the depths of Hell.

So he strokes Theseus's brow with a tender hand, and watches him murmur back into wakefulness. He dare not speak, lest Theseus hear his voice and rue what they had partaken in together.

[deltastrike]

Theseus's discontent is mollified when he feels his face being gently warmed by the large hand over his forehead. He leans into the cup of Asterius's palm, until his cheeks are squished and his already undone hair sticks up on end. Based on his enthusiasm he finds it a far more preferable alternative to the cool sheets.

"Asterius..." Theseus mumbles on a half-conscious breath. That name is in his thoughts now, was in his thoughts as he slept, and was his last before falling asleep. One of Theseus's arms stirs before being lazily lifted up, to blindly reach around for the subject he speaks of. Blindly because Theseus still isn't opening his eyes, but given the size of his object of desire, it's only a matter of time.