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Outside the thunderstorm raged on, the pattering of rainwater hitting the window pane. If one might take a peek at the scene inside the room, they would soon fan themselves. Not from the heat of the moment, there's no wandering hands in places that would make a nun pales in horror, no skin contacts more than the ones seeking comfort instead of delicious friction, no word spoken in the throes of desire. Instead, two men pursuing connection. Each point of skin meeting skin shared an invisible thread of affection, flowing freely, steadily.
Dunk and Aerion have no idea how long time has since passed when they decided to lay entangled with each other. Aerion's head laid on top Dunk's heart, surrendering himself to the silent of the room in exchange of the lub-dub of his lover's beating core. His hand, one of it anyway, stayed entwined with one of Dunk on top of his tummy. His entire fingers enveloped and warmed in ways only the warmth of the skin of another could afford you. It flows through his entire body, it tinges his cheeks a healthy pink flush, his heart beating in match with Dunk's, his legs snaking through the thick tree trunk of Dunk's. Refusing to lose even an inch of contact and a modicum of heat.
"My arm is dead, since, an hour ago." Dunk chimed in.
"Then shut up and suffer longer for me." Aerion replied, embracing a little loose to hiked up and planted a kiss on the corner of Dunk's lips.
"Meanie," Dunk said jokingly.
"You love me mean, my love." Dunk could hear the grin in his lover's reply.
"Really though, i need to get up. We haven't eaten anything since noon."
"But i'm so comfy…"
"We'll get comfy again as soon as we put something in your tummy."
"Oh i know something you could put in my tumm—" before Aerion could even finish his teasing, Dunk had detached himself completely and got up to the kitchen. "Oh come on, i was only joking!" Aerion humored.
"And not a damn joke in that sentence at all and we both know it. Just sit there and I’ll get you something to eat real quick, okay? Is that alright with your highness?"
"It'll do, peasant." at this, Dunk could only scoffed.
Dunk quickly whipped up a nice hearty tomato soup with a cheese toastie to complements it. Nobody expects him to be so affluent in the kitchen, least of all his lover. Aerion had thought his gigantic frame would be clumsy and lumber about in the limited space. Now he's the one ghosting over the kitchen with fingers nudging this and that. Sight sweeping over the controlled mess of the entire counter and finally rest on Dunk. Dunk who, quite the opposite, took to cooking like a horse to a field of freshly trimmed grass. Galloping with wild abandon and grace at the same time. He cooks like he might present you with a bunch of random stuff thrown together and slap a food label on it but no, almost always he cooked proper. Well, when his refrigerator agrees with him. And since dating Aerion, his freezer agreed a lot more often. So does the width of Aerion's waist that got wider and wider the more well stocked Dunk's kitchen could be. The though of getting rounder and lovelier, according to Duncan, made him felt softer than ever. Aerion walked the very few steps that Dunk's flat limited kitchen could afford him and land on Dunk's back. His arms circling his waist, his cheek lays tender between Dunk's shoulder blades. He started to nuzzle there, and for someone who often likened themself to a dragon, he felt and looked more like a docile cat right now.
"Food's look good as usual, babe."
"Only the best for you, your highness."
"That shall do. The next one, you'll be my meal."
"Your needs know no boundary, Aerion. I swear to everything that's holy, you might get pregnant if you weren't a man."
"Oh, who knows. A descendant of a dragon never has need for boundaries, love. I might be carrying your kid now."
"Hush, and carry this bowl before i really do knock you up."
"Don't threatened me with a good time, Duncan."
"It was a figure of speech, Aerion." the man could feel Dunk's rolled his eyes at his response. Whatever. There are more and more chances to try.
When the food is ready, he served it up in a red and black ceramic bowl— Aerions's favorite. A utensil that managed to find home in Dunk's living space. Along with several of his jumper, trousers, and a bag of hygiene necessities. What one mundane flat inhabited by a man several sizes too big for its minuscule nook and crannies had to make even more room for a, vehemently denied, small man such as Aerion. In the lieu of their relationship, Dunk had too scooch closer into the edge just a tad more. Not that he minded it, if that got him a lump of warm mass in the shape of his boyfriend every chance he get. In bed, in the shower, in the couch while catching up on Aerion's true crime documentary, on the dinner table, in the car, during sex, and Dunk's most preferable proximity— when his lover climbs up on his lap to kiss him.
The meal beconned Aerion like a sailor to a siren's song. And when his tongue bathes in the richness and warmth of its delightful taste, he moan an obscene sound. Childish and grateful, this one, Dunk thought, but gods do i love him.
They finished the food in comfort silence followed by ocassional questions, making sure the others are find and well. How are you? Good. Anything interesting today? Nothing as much as daeron drunken blubbering. How's the food? Fucking banging. Glad you like it. Seriously though, i could kiss you for this.
"Then i'll be counting on you for that."