there's a heaviness in his eyes and on his brow that wasn't there before — or if it was, robb failed to notice it until now. he is handsome, strong, tall, lean, still every bit the man that has relentlessly haunted robb's dreams, and yet —
and yet.
theon looks tired.
the silence between them is a wall that keeps robb from moving, and theon's voice is the hammer that breaks through the stone, drawing robb's breath from him. robb swallows, leather cracking as he squeezes his fingers into gloved palms and dares to take a step forward, wanting to rush into theon's arms as much as he selfishly wants theon to rush into his. i shouldn't have let you go, he wants to say. i can't believe i let you go.
as if somehow robb's words would mend the crookedness of his smile. as if theon would not have gone anyway, despite robb's begging, despite robb's orders. as if robb's presence alone is enough to ease the ache of theon's loneliness, and maybe robb thinks that already. ]
I — [ words fail him as he exhales noisily and stares, disbelieving. his brain grasps desperately for something to say, for an appropriate greeting, but for as well-spoken as he can be at times, robb isn't a naturally gifted speaker. he's too genuine for honeyed words, too sincere for false promises that sound more like poetry than lies.
but where his brain betrays him, his body does not.
robb's heavy cloak sweeps behind him as he moves forward, closing the distance between them in three long strides. he crashes into theon without stopping or slowing, propelling them back into the bedpost of theon's bed as he claws his fingers through his hair and kisses him not like he loves him (though he does, absolutely and completely, for now, for always), but like he wants to devour him, all teeth and tongue and desperate whining that's lost to theon's mouth. ]
this took forever ugh forgive me i've been so busy
there's a heaviness in his eyes and on his brow that wasn't there before — or if it was, robb failed to notice it until now. he is handsome, strong, tall, lean, still every bit the man that has relentlessly haunted robb's dreams, and yet —
and yet.
theon looks tired.
the silence between them is a wall that keeps robb from moving, and theon's voice is the hammer that breaks through the stone, drawing robb's breath from him. robb swallows, leather cracking as he squeezes his fingers into gloved palms and dares to take a step forward, wanting to rush into theon's arms as much as he selfishly wants theon to rush into his. i shouldn't have let you go, he wants to say. i can't believe i let you go.
as if somehow robb's words would mend the crookedness of his smile. as if theon would not have gone anyway, despite robb's begging, despite robb's orders. as if robb's presence alone is enough to ease the ache of theon's loneliness, and maybe robb thinks that already. ]
I — [ words fail him as he exhales noisily and stares, disbelieving. his brain grasps desperately for something to say, for an appropriate greeting, but for as well-spoken as he can be at times, robb isn't a naturally gifted speaker. he's too genuine for honeyed words, too sincere for false promises that sound more like poetry than lies.
but where his brain betrays him, his body does not.
robb's heavy cloak sweeps behind him as he moves forward, closing the distance between them in three long strides. he crashes into theon without stopping or slowing, propelling them back into the bedpost of theon's bed as he claws his fingers through his hair and kisses him not like he loves him (though he does, absolutely and completely, for now, for always), but like he wants to devour him, all teeth and tongue and desperate whining that's lost to theon's mouth. ]