Sol stayed there for a long moment, the rhythmic rise and fall of Kira's chest against his chest acting as his only tether to the present. His eyes traced the intricate carvings on the walls, his mind a rare, quiet void. Eventually, the pragmatic self within him nudged the lover aside. The Preparedness for the coming storm couldn't be ignored forever.
"You're right," Sol murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the quiet. "We definitely need that wash."
"Exactly," Kira smiled, matching his energy. "Now, get in the basin. We both need to wash the night off before someone comes knocking."
…
Getting up was a slow, agonizingly comfortable process. Their bodies felt heavy, saturated with a deep exhaustion that was simultaneously revitalizing. As they moved toward the large stone washbasin in the corner, the domesticity of the scene felt like a temporary sanctuary.
Despite her refusal, he pulled her together with him.
