The mourning after is always something special, Sol thinks.
He thinks he cannot ever get tired of the feeling of Nox's arm around his waist and listening to his languid breath that feathers against the back of his neck.
It's morning in the Heavenly Palaces and sunlight trickles through the blinds. Everything is doused in an ethereal glow. Nox's dark hair is stark against the silken white sheets. Sol adjusts himself to roll over and get a better look at his beloved.
Nox, in his true, human form is a lithe beauty with ebony hair. His face is sharp but also delicate in appearance, with long fanning lashes that draw shadows along his cheeks.
Slowly, those lashes part, revealing eyes that reflect a myriad of blues, from sapphire to seafoam and cold steel. He's breathtaking. And Sol stares without much shame.
