He would lie if he said it didn't feel good, having someone take care of him. John had finally returned to his old self after a few hours, Soran laying on his bed sleeping soundly. He had pretended to fall asleep a while ago just so he could see his sleeping face.
The vampire looked so peaceful, his white hair sprawled on the dark pillow, beautiful and soft. His breathing was steady and slow while he turned to his side, facing John, desperately close. His heart was racing, being so close to him, the silence all around, how could he ever fall asleep? It was impossible.
John raised his arm, his fingertips tracing the lines of his lips gently, like the touch of a feather since he didn't want to wake him up. The tips of his fingers felt hot as if he had touched fire and he couldn't stop himself from imprinting Soran's face in his mind, remembering all the bumps and roughness, all the soft spots by touch.
