#purplespringtraps

He holds you close like he always does after he’s come down from his high of filling you up, with his fingers wrapped around locks of your hair he’s been brushing softly and his face pressed against your chest, his free hand lightly following the shape of your arm until he finds your own hand and takes it in his grasp, intertwining your fingers so you couldn’t easily let go.

He wouldn’t but he knows you absolutely would.

His skin is rough against your own and his warm breath makes your naked flesh rise up with goose bumps, his breathing is calm and peaceful while his eyes are closed. He’s silent, finally, because he fears your response to his words so he bites down the “I love you” that was threatening to come out of his bruised lips. He just can’t stand it when you tell him the same thing over and over again, because he’s tried so hard to convince himself you’re wrong.

“I am not the one you love,” you always said to him, often in a weak whisper, and much to his breaking heart today was not an exception. This time he wouldn’t hear it, he’s fed up with that phrase; more importantly, he’s sick of answering you the same thing as well, it often led up to the second response you always gave him, one that he hated the most.

If you just wouldn’t say it, just for once. Please, he begs, just keep quiet while he lays on top of you, curled up against your tired form and face hidden to not look at your –he presumes- tear stained face. Just let him have this time, enjoying your warmth against his own and relishing on the feeling of your skin so close to his.

Your chest shakes as more tears fall down your eyes in an endless stream and his head moves along, being so carefully rested on top of you. Thancred feels your lungs filling up with air as you prepare yourself to speak again, and he hates his existence just a bit more after he hears what you have to say, what he loathes to hear.

“You’re not the one I love.”

At first you were beyond terrified because it had never been like this before. The way he would cradle your head to place the softest kisses over the skin of your face was almost startling to you, and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes. Your heart beat so hard against your chest you swore he could hear it, maybe even feel it against his own chest as he pressed his body over yours.

But it was soft, unlike every other time he had pinned you against the mattress. He was so careful so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight, kissing your lips so gently it almost made your tears spill from your eyes.

It came to a point where you weren’t flinching anymore. Every time he moved his hands you kept as still as your trembling body allowed you, and every time he lifted his head you dared to look at him. Maybe not directly at his almost glowing eyes, not yet, but you raised your head as did his.

And you hated it, because his smile was the purest you had ever seen on him. It was soft and sweet and it brought back the knot in your throat as he softly caressed your naked skin with both of his hands.

The thought of this being weird never left your mind, even if you were slightly shivering after every touch and sighing after every kiss. He wasn’t drunk, that was absolutely clear to you; the first time he allowed himself to be tipsy around you he had hit you. Hard. You had four scars over your cheek from the time his golden claws ripped open your skin when he did it, so you could hardly forget it had happened even if he had gotten you drunk as well. Using that experience as example you could easily rule out him being drugged this time.

But he was being so uncharacteristically sweet and gentle with you. Especially in the way his lips softly met with yours in a charming and passionate kiss. He held you like a lover would, and kissed you and touched you like a lover would.

You noticed you started to cry when his thumbs cleared your tears from your face, his touch so tender and delicate over the scars he had left on your skin, his lips barely leaving yours. When you opened your eyes again after he had parted from your face, your head still cradled by his hands as if at any moment you could break, you saw his smile again and this time you drifted your gaze to his eyes. They were glowing with care and what you dared describe as affection, gently staring back at you for a few seconds before he leant down once again, nuzzling his nose against yours in one of the most delicate and cute gestures you’d seen from him and coming so close to pressing his lips against yours in yet another kiss.

He didn’t give it to you, though. He just kept caressing your face with the tip of his nose and making sure his lips were still hovering against yours. So in the middle of your crying, with your shaking hands reaching forwards to grab him cautiously by the sleeves of his white shirt, you tilted your head upwards and closed the distance between the two of you, closing your eyes as it happened and a sigh escaping your lungs.

You felt him smirk. You’d just given him what he wanted.