Running through the thick woods of Meloria, you find yourself lost until you stumble into a little area that seems secluded from the rest of the world. Although the area is definitely not little the cathedrals are massive and it seems to be a place...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"If only I could look into her eyes again If only I could eat her little lies again My lady morgue"
*smut*
Quatro's chest lifted and sunk, you had watched it many times in fascination. His light snoring was practically music to your ears, you wouldn't want to wake up to anyone else. The morning glow highlighted his strawberry blonde hair with his grey streaks, almost glowing. You entangled one of your fingers in his locks, his hair spiraling over your finger. His hair was soft and thick, he kept it well groomed but it was nice to see it messy and not perfectly slicked back. His eyes fluttered open, dilating as they scanned the room. He tilted his head and looked up, seeing you sitting at the top corner of the bed. It was the early hours of the morning, and he didn't exactly need to be up and running till 12pm. "Ah, buon giorno mia cara," he greeted, his eyes hazy and blurred from sleep. You planted a kiss at the top of his head, smiling.
"I want.. I want to rest, please," he pleaded, holding your hand as he squeezed it.
"We should get up, please Papa," you begged, pulling his arm up. His face paint was smeared and messy, having forgotten to take it off last night. He did not look pleased.
Quatro scoffed, ruffling his hair as he sat up in the bed. The pearl white sheets and pillow had smears of coal black paint, making you chuckle, "Mm, no," he protested, his eyes scanning the room tiredly. "I'm tired."
"How about we play some music? We can dance," you suggested, hopping up and off the bed. Feet tapping on the cool wooden floor.
You paused, smiling to yourself, "Fine, guess I'll dance by myself,"
Quatro jumps up, keen. He grabs your hand and pulls you to him, "You dance with me,"
"You need to shower first," you scoffed. "You still have paint on your face."
"Ah, my fault," he shook his head. "Kiss first?"
"You're kissing me every chance you get you needy man," you joke, pulling him closer, his hands clasped in yours.
"Mi dispiace.. I'm sorry," he frowns, letting your hands go.
"No, no that's not what I meant!" you explain, "I like you around."
"How can you be so sure?" he replies, his breath fanning on your neck. You shiver, shaking away the feeling.
"I'm here, am I not?" you keen, looking up at the man before you, placing a small peck on his lips.
His lips curl into a slight smile, as he leans in and kisses you softly. After a couple of seconds he leans back, from the spots of missing face paint he was obviously red, it made you chuckle at how nervous and flustered someone like him could get.
The phone rang, vibrating and buzzing against the rotary. He raced over to the phone and picked it up, "Ciao," he hummed.
"Si, si. Bene," he said rather strictly, hanging up the phone.
