6. Chapter 6 Interlude (1/1)

another little interlude for those of you who prefer things not to fade out. enjoy!

disclaimer: not mine.

it was strange, lying beside someone. the bed was narrow, forcing cold body and warm to press close together, and what started with lips and tongues soon spread to their hands. arms wrapped tightly around each other, they had little choice but to be closer than they'd ever dared to be before, and soon bertrand could feel warm hands moving under the back of his shirt. he concentrated very hard on not reacting to the touch, on not moving the fa

ic of robin's top aside and making him shiver with his own cold hands.

the

eather ran one hand around to rest between them, still underneath bertrand's shirt, and bertrand tensed for a moment; there were scars there, scars he'd kept hidden and covered for centuries. but robin just drew back for a moment, catching a ragged

eath as he traced bertrand's muscles, trailing heat across his skin."this ok?"

bertrand was nodding, and robin pretended not to notice the strange indentations in his boyfriend's skin as he admired the definition of his muscles. he could tell from the way the vampire had tensed that he wasn't particularly proud of the scars, and he intended to fix that, but right now they'd covered enough new ground. he returned his hand to bertrand's back, still adjusting to the unnatural coolness of his skin, wondering if bertrand felt cold.

the vampire didn't touch him back, didn't make any attempt to slide his hands under the thin fa

ic of robin's pyjama top (nightmare before christmas themed, a present from chloe), and robin wondered why not. he wriggled slightly, causing his top to ride up slightly on its own, and tried to ignore the effect his proximity to bertrand while he executed that little move was having on them both. there was an awkward moment in which neither of them moved; then bertrand's thumb

ushed across the tiny section of exposed skin at robin's waist, making him gasp with the cold. he moved one of his hands to curl his fingers into bertrand's hair, letting him know it was a good kind of cold, and

eathed a deep sigh of relief when bertrand repeated the gentle stroking motion before kissing him again.