I kept my hope just like I hoped to // any

[Rhaegor]

I kept my hope just like i'd hoped to
then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

As testosterone and adrenaline and all sorts of things pound through his veins for what feels like the first time, the whirlwind of her words are lost to the young prince's ears. There is only the sweet smell of her heavily exhaled breath and those darling brown eyes which look into his with a vulnerability that leaves him feeling... powerful. And responsible. He can't tell if he wants to take her or to take care of her, and in his youth, he feels almost paralyzed when he realizes he could have either, right here, right now; but she breathes his name and she doesn't back down from this new, strange challenge, so he doesn't, either.

Their hearts hammer in sync and he imagines that he can feel hers and that she can feel his too, as their bodies press together in an awkward and tantalizing mess. He is so close to her that he can see the individual hairs which roan her petite body, white and black intermingled to create the illusion of something blue. He's so transfixed by this - and everything else about the charismatic girl - that he's surprised by the feel of her lips on his skin, too. His skin shudders where she ghosts her dark lips, but to make up for this he presses into her more firmly; and as his teeth mindlessly find their mark on her shoulder, he presses into her even more, needing to remind her that for all his confused manliness, he is still just a boy who finds her endlessly enrapturing.

As he presses a kiss to the place he'd just bitten, Rhae feels more than sees the tucking of Chryseis' head into the curve of his body, made a meek girl when one minute ago she'd been whooping about her win. This thought makes Rhae's head spin, and suddenly his throat feels dry; he wishes he could speak, but honestly, even if he could, he wouldn't know what the fuck to say.

Hi, I am in love with you.
Hi, I think you are the most beautiful creature to set foot on this planet.
Hi, you make my head spin, and you make me forget how to breathe.

Yeah, in this moment, his mutism is more gift than curse.

Feeling like he might implode if he doesn't act now, the little prince suddenly steps back, but maintains contact but running his mouth back up Chry's slim neck. His lips find hers, and their whiskers intermingle pleasantly; but he tosses his head with a worried smile and a confused flick of his ears, withers shuddering both against the cold and the feeling that, somehow, he's done something wrong.

Rhaegor

@[Chryseis]