Chapter Text
“Looks like it’s clearing up.” Gosha remarks in a rumble, much later on, sprawled on his back with Yafya molded to his side.
Yafya hums in agreement, sated, blunt nails combing the length of Gosha’s scaly chest. “Seems so.”
They’d spent the day almost entirely in Yafya’s bed, making up for lost time, barely halting for essentials such as food and water.
Truthfully it had been Gosha who’d reminded him that food was necessary, at all.
Granted when he’d said it with his chin hooked over Yafya’s shoulder, breath humid and tangy on his ear while he’d mounted him from behind.
Yafya had been more than inclined to listen to anything that came out of his mouth.
If he’d left it up to Yafya, between Gosha’s endurance and his own enthusiasm, they’d have surely starved.
It’s funny.
Yafya never imagined he’d be content to spend a whole day in bed. Of course, he’d never thought to include Gosha in the equation. Never thought it would be possible.
Now?
Yafya can’t imagine wanting anything else more.
Yafya won’t deny that he’s entirely spent, could fall asleep right then blanketed in Gosha’s scent, held within his arms.
Gosha doesn’t seem keen to leave, either.
He’s got an arm looped around Yafya’s waist, palm warm against his back, petting occasionally.
Drowsy, Yafya’s only a little nervous as he proposes. “You could stay a little longer.”
“How much is a little?” Gosha counters automatically, turning to bury his nose in Yafya’s mane, exhaling through the strands.
He hums, melting further into Gosha’s frame, palm settling over his heart. “Mm, a week.” He thinks. “Forever.” He concedes.
“That’s a long time to listen to my snoring.” Gosha muses, playful. “Are you sure?”
Yafya knows he loves to poke but he also hears the note of seriousness underneath.
He withdraws, just enough to see his face, read the anxiety nearly obscured in his Komodo features.
Yafya’s hand leaves Gosha’s chest, curves to fit against his jaw.
“There’s nothing I want more.” He promises, sincere, thumb sweeping under Gosha’s eye.
Gosha’s throat bobs subtly, eyes tender. “Okay.” He breathes.
“Okay.” Yafya parrots softly, smiling.
He slumps back down, head returning to the crook of Gosha’s neck, inhaling the salty smell of his scales combined with a gentle whiff of his own scent.
He closes his eyes, settling, and listens to the ice melt on the window sill.
He never thought he’d be grateful for a storm.