[ It's a familiar touch, a gentle request for permission that Ogmios recognises. He stirs, a little hazy from sleep, though a smile has already spread across his face; he always has a time for Eros, no matter what time of the night it is. In the darkness, he can make out Eros' shape on the other side of the bed, and there's a luxuriant pause before he speaks, his voice a low rumble, still rough from his slumber. ]
Ever the spontaneous one, aren't you? [ He shifts a little, turning onto his side, his head propped up by the palm of his hand as his eyes adjust to the lack of light. ] Never a warning, no front doors, not even a text message!
[ It's clear, however, from the slow way in which Ogmios lets the words roll off his tongue, that he isn't complaining, not for a moment. ]
no subject
Ever the spontaneous one, aren't you? [ He shifts a little, turning onto his side, his head propped up by the palm of his hand as his eyes adjust to the lack of light. ] Never a warning, no front doors, not even a text message!
[ It's clear, however, from the slow way in which Ogmios lets the words roll off his tongue, that he isn't complaining, not for a moment. ]