[ Molly says softly, nearly a whisper as he looks up into Fjord's eyes with a smile. It's tender and it's sweet, something he used to imagine fragile as glass, terrified that his grip was too tight or too loose. Desperate to ruin with a joke or a comment to distance himself.
Now love is his favorite vice. ]
We're both lucky.
[ A hand comes to stroke that cheek again, gently tracing the beard and stopping at his chin before Molly leans in for a kiss again. ]
no subject
[ Molly says softly, nearly a whisper as he looks up into Fjord's eyes with a smile. It's tender and it's sweet, something he used to imagine fragile as glass, terrified that his grip was too tight or too loose. Desperate to ruin with a joke or a comment to distance himself.
Now love is his favorite vice. ]
We're both lucky.
[ A hand comes to stroke that cheek again, gently tracing the beard and stopping at his chin before Molly leans in for a kiss again. ]
We're excellent at intimacy in tents, aren't we?