0000 hours.

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0000 hours.

There's a bed, a lone bed, placed flush against the wall of an expensive hotel. And there lies two bodies, pressed incredibly close to one another. Lanky legs thrown across a small waist, hands splayed across tattoos, breathes slow. The air around them is cold, but in the center of the bed, is a warmth, not one that some may get from a heater, or a fireplace, or a stove or hot chocolate, but the warmth you can only get from being in the arms of the one you love.

It's quiet.

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