[Settling into the embrace, he holds Rhy with the sort of covetousness reserved for things you know don't truly belong to you, and the sort of gratitude reserved for things you know not to take for granted. He buries his nose in Rhy's shoulder, breathes him in, and feels at peace for now.]
Glad you're not sick of me yet.
[He says it like it's a joke, but it isn't exactly.]
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Glad you're not sick of me yet.
[He says it like it's a joke, but it isn't exactly.]
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[ Rhy admonishes, with emphatic warmth, and presses a kiss to Wilhelm's hair. ]