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“It’s late.”
“Vampires don’t need to sleep.” His voice was quiet. Soft. The fire roared beside him, but your night clothes were thin, and even with the flames you shivered.
“You are not a full vampire,” you stated. “You can enjoy the simple luxuries that sleep offers. Come to bed.”
Your final words came close to a plea, a beg, to which he sighed at. He could not refuse such a simple offer, especially not from you as you stood in the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him carefully. He would not hurt you, you knew this, but you watched him. You watched his slight movements and twitches, watched his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. God, he was perfect. Even in the tranquil time of twelve o’clock with dishevelled hair and tired eyes, he was perfect.
He was silent for a while, wood crackling to fill the void.
“Okay,” he said, and he stood. The book in his pale hands shut, and his gaze lingered on the fireplace before he turned to you. His frame was illuminated in an orange light, twinkled with gold that pronounced his blond hair, and his features.
A smile played at your lips, corners twitching up as you moved towards him, taking his pale hands in yours. They were cold, or colder than most. But they were still steady, and you held them with a familiar touch. Your thumbs swiped across the back of his hands, caressing the pale skin as your eyes darted up to his. “Good.” You said, smiling. “Come, the bed had gotten cold. I will need someone to warm me,” you joked, and he let out a breath. A soft smile, different to your coy grin made its way to his face before he shook his head at you.
“Ah, I see.” Adrian mused. “You only wish for me to be a bedwarmer. How hurt am I.” You chuckled at his words, laugh quiet. Your shoulders shook slightly, and your grin grew.
“Precisely. Now come, my love. Join me.” And he did, leaving the hearth of the fire and into a cold, cold bed waiting minute by minute to be warmed by two lovesick idiots.