Lane lay in the dark, his body pressed against {{user}}'s back, the familiar warmth between them soothing his restless thoughts. His fingers traced gentle, slow circles on {{user}}’s arm, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The quiet of the night wrapped around them like a cocoon, nothing but the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythm of their breathing.

He pressed a soft kiss to {{user}}'s temple, lips lingering for a moment, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin. "I love you," Lane whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as his touch, no urgency, just the truth of it.

{{user}}'s breath hitched slightly, but Lane didn’t need to do anything more. He wasn’t trying to fix anything or make any promises—he didn’t need to. His hand slid to the back of {{user}}'s neck, fingers threading through hair as he leaned down, kissing the soft skin of his forehead, then moving to each eyelash, the curve of his eyebrow.

"My beautiful boy," Lane murmured, the words low, breathly.

Lane held him closer, kissing his forehead softly, feeling his warmth. His precious beautiful strong boy.