Gregoris woke first.
Not because he was more rested, but because he had been trained to respond to the slightest shift in the room, the slightest change in breathing, or the slightest unfamiliar sound. Old habits didn't die in palaces or in marriage. They just learned how to wear silk.
Rafael was tangled with him, warm and boneless, one leg draped over Gregoris's thigh like a claim. Their sheets were a mess. Their blankets were half on the floor. The air still smelled like them - clean soap, faint omega sweetness, and the calming comfort of Gregoris's scent that made the whole suite feel like a ward.
Gregoris stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked down.
Rafael's hair was a brown halo against the pillow, damp from last night's shower and sleep. His mouth was faintly swollen from too much smiling and kissing, and he had the audacity to look peaceful.
Gregoris's hand, already on Rafael's back, moved slowly, a firm stroke that was less tenderness and more a headcount.
