Shifting so that he was laying down with James, Raylan hums softly as he tucks in under chin, off hand wrapping around James's waist a little tighter.
"I know, darlin'. And I will. As soon as we stop dyin' left and right. An' for now, we'll both get to indulge in it, hmm?" His hands squeeze again.
"'Sides, I need this as much as you do. After watchin' you die in Lestat's room.. Ain't got enough of holdin' you yet. Hell, we might never leave, how's that sound."
As Raylan settles in closer and squeezes him tight, he'll wrap himself around his Husband, attached at his side like a barnacle. He buries his face in the crook of his neck, surrounded by the scent and warmth, feeling and listening to his heartbeat. He nods softly in agreement with the rest, eyes closed against his lover's skin, shielding him against the world beyond their bedroom. His head was still throbbing but he could focus through the pain on Raylan, how he breathes, the soft timber of his voice vibrating against his forehead, the feel of their fingers tangled together.
"Good, I'm not about to let you go any time soon." Lestat was likely a conversation they should've had weeks ago, but both of them had needed enough time to sit with it.
James will likely need to let Raylan go so he can get up to get him some painkillers for the headache and fire in his skin, or water to wet his tongue and throat. He might not be able to stomach much beyond soup, toast or jello for awhile.
Raylan breathes in the smell of sweat and musk and the lingering antiseptic and sighs the breath out, sinking into it all. He needed this. The quiet, the privacy, the ability to just soak up the solid presence of James being against him and breathing.
He needed to apologize. But he wasn't inconsiderate to his husband's condition; it could wait.
James shakes his head gently, "Just you, right here, just as you are. That's all I need."
He sounds a little sleepy, or perhaps it is some of the migraine. He could use pills to help but he's too stubborn to ask for them. That and it feels like he finally got to a perfect level of comfortably wrapped in Raylan to want to bother him to move.
"Are there any stories you feel up for telling me?" He might doze off part way through but he's willing to listen to whatever Raylan feels like telling him.
"I ever tell you about what a Southern night sounds likes? Late summer, sticky air full of crickets and cicadas?"
His fingers find a home in James's hair, carding softly through it. Raylan was perfectly fine with being trapped by James's weight; he'd sit right here for a handful of hours at the very least if it gave his husband some comfort.
"Nothin' quiet about the nighttime, the deep sound of the call of the midnight coal train under the sound of the wind in the trees, makin' it all sound like summer in a field of long grass and lightin' bugs.."
James softly hums out a sleepy sound to indicate that he doesn't think Raylan's described a southern night to him before. With his eyes closed, even with his brain heavy and hazy with a headache, he's able to listen intently to the soothing sound of Raylan's voice and paint the perfect picture in his head. He gives another low hum at the gentle hand through his hair, tilting his head ever-so-slightly into it, like a cat wanting to be pet. Slowly but surely it lulls him into a light comfortable trance.
The more James relaxed and drifted off, the heavier he got, helping guide Raylan in the soft telling of honeysuckle on the breeze. His fingers kept their steady stroke through James's hair as he continued on about the smell of cold on the air in the winters or the way that it all came alive and vibrant under the rain.
When he was sure James was well under, he stopped talking, hand moving only to drag the cover over both of them and laying over James's extended arm and shoulder. He'd give James as many hours as he could manage before begrudgingly working his way oh so slowly out from under his husband, so he could tuck James in the rest of the way. Raylan had to piss like a race horse and after emptying his bladder and getting some whiskey to refill it, he came back into the bedroom with a chair and sat by the 'windows' to watch the pirate sleep.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I know, darlin'. And I will. As soon as we stop dyin' left and right. An' for now, we'll both get to indulge in it, hmm?" His hands squeeze again.
"'Sides, I need this as much as you do. After watchin' you die in Lestat's room.. Ain't got enough of holdin' you yet. Hell, we might never leave, how's that sound."
no subject
"Good, I'm not about to let you go any time soon." Lestat was likely a conversation they should've had weeks ago, but both of them had needed enough time to sit with it.
James will likely need to let Raylan go so he can get up to get him some painkillers for the headache and fire in his skin, or water to wet his tongue and throat. He might not be able to stomach much beyond soup, toast or jello for awhile.
no subject
He needed to apologize. But he wasn't inconsiderate to his husband's condition; it could wait.
"Can I get ya anythin? Make ya more comfortable?"
no subject
He sounds a little sleepy, or perhaps it is some of the migraine. He could use pills to help but he's too stubborn to ask for them. That and it feels like he finally got to a perfect level of comfortably wrapped in Raylan to want to bother him to move.
"Are there any stories you feel up for telling me?" He might doze off part way through but he's willing to listen to whatever Raylan feels like telling him.
no subject
His fingers find a home in James's hair, carding softly through it. Raylan was perfectly fine with being trapped by James's weight; he'd sit right here for a handful of hours at the very least if it gave his husband some comfort.
"Nothin' quiet about the nighttime, the deep sound of the call of the midnight coal train under the sound of the wind in the trees, makin' it all sound like summer in a field of long grass and lightin' bugs.."
no subject
no subject
When he was sure James was well under, he stopped talking, hand moving only to drag the cover over both of them and laying over James's extended arm and shoulder. He'd give James as many hours as he could manage before begrudgingly working his way oh so slowly out from under his husband, so he could tuck James in the rest of the way. Raylan had to piss like a race horse and after emptying his bladder and getting some whiskey to refill it, he came back into the bedroom with a chair and sat by the 'windows' to watch the pirate sleep.