#danke.

Send me a color and I’ll write a drabble with our muses with that color as the theme.

The morning light bled through the Wolfe cottage, but it felt like a gentle veil draped over the couple's bed. Viggo's eyes cracked open and before his vision could fully adjust, there was that second before all the lines and shadows could be taken in that made his mind see the vision of heaven. The rays were warm against his body, sinking through the white linen sheets while the brightness of their efforts bounced off the color, ricocheting into a thousand beams through the air. He breathed in and the moment of misplaced sight passed, seeing the few specks of dust floating above like lost stars. The light painted his eyes in honey as he admired their dance while he woke up more, dragging the time to stay in bed where his husband laid with him.

Although, the morning would turn into tomorrow's sunrise easily enough if he decided to stay exactly where he was, no matter how blissful it was. With Idris still lost in his slumber, he took every precaution not to wake him as he slunk out of the mattress' hold. The sheets were barely moved as he carefully stood up, leaving the impression of his presence behind as the only remnant. A hand reached down to pick up the long shorts that had been taken off and found their demise at the hardwood floor. If only temporarily, they found themselves on their owner again as he walked silently around the bed in the direction of the shower waiting for him. Predictably, he didn't make it very far, and it only took him one look back at the man he was hopelessly drawn to.

Idris' skin was lighter than his own, an untouched, milky tone where his usual clothes prevented the sun from nipping at him. Now, exposed to the same light, Viggo was reminded of his heaven, the one that lasts much longer than the fleeting beat after waking. The brunette looked like a figure in a French painting, one that was hanging in the Lourve among the great masters, rivaling them without lifting a finger. The sheet draped over him like long paint strokes, covering the most intimate aspects for the viewer to imagine for themselves. Viggo could rely on memory instead of creativity, reveling in the notion enough to let his head dip slightly before looking back at his earthbound angel.

He took the time to etch every detail into his mind, knowing that even a camera wouldn't be able to capture the scene with the amount of justice it deserved. A lens couldn't capture the warmth in the room or the radiating white light that gave the impression that Idris was not simply bathing in it but being anointed in it. He dared to take a step forward, breaking the real-life painting by entering in its medium. Still just as delicate in his movements to prevent the other from leaving his sleep, he knelt beside the bed just low enough to lean in and brush over the supple lips. His fingertips glided over his arm, barely making contact with the skin and sweeping through the thin hair that covered it. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken another kiss as he felt the faint pressure reciprocated against his own lips, but it didn't prevent him from stopping, indulging further as he began to grin.

Ancient or modern. // Bitter or sweet. // chocolate or vanilla. // coffee or tea. Water is. Much better. // Create or destroy. Sometimes. You must destroy. One thing to create. Another. // Day or night. // Early bird or night owl. // Freckles or dimples. // Gold or silver. // Greek mythology or Egyptian mythology. // Macarons or eclairs. Too sweet. // Hot or cold. // Thunder or lightning. // Typewritten or handwritten. // Secret garden or secret library. // Spicy or mild. // Dark magic or light magic. We do not. Yet believe in. Magic. // Virtue or vice. // Ocean or desert. Forests. // Mermaids or sirens. // Known or unknown. // Rough or smooth. // Moon or stars. // Rain or snow.