Work Text:
It's warm.
Therion shifts.
A yawn paws its way out of his mouth as he shuffles about.
Alfyn's hand tightens around his waist before loosening. Therion opens a lazy eye to peek at him.
The shadow of leaves play across his face as he dozes; the afternoon sunshine splayed like freckles.
His chest is a very comfortable pillow.
Therion burrows back into him, and closes his eyes with a sigh.
The wind tucks his hair behind his ear, whispering the sound of chirping birds and rustling green. The once-foreign tongue of peace, and now—a familiar second home.
Alfyn's other hand—draped over his back, and up into his hair—twitches sleepily, and Therion leans into the touch with a hum.
It's very quiet here. Comfortable, warm.
He can see why this is Alfyn's favorite place to nap in.
Therion closes his eyes, and, with Alfyn's arms circled around him,
drifts off to
sleep