I’m barely awake when I feel her hands on me. They’re gentle, just barely-there touches, but they rouse me from my daze. I find her propped up against the pillows, covers and blankets pulled up to cover her nakedness. She withdraws her hand, and I watch as a flush creeps up her chest and neck. “I don’t mind, y’know.” I murmur, taking her hand and pressing my lips to it. Ever since I got my godsdamn engine fixed, I can’t stop touching her. I never want to stop touching her.

I kiss the tips of her fingers, and the lines of her palm. I place it against my cheek, and she softens in a way I rarely get to see. She’s the moon to my sun, as I say. I wear my heart on my sleeve, hers is locked away and protected by a herd of lions with crossbows. She’s heavily guarded, stoic, and generally unpleasant on a good day. But I love her, and I know she loves me. “I know, I just… I’m not used to it. Not used to having someone so here.” She replies, her expression morphing into one that signifies she’s thinking, before she shakes it off and gives me a smile.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, K.” She murmurs, tracing my nose with her freezing fingers. “Good lords, my love! You’re freezing,” I complain, and she allows me to take her hands between my own. I move closer to her, pressing my ever-warm body to hers. It’s far too cold- both her body and the city. After so many years in the Hells, I’m not used to the cold, as I seldom felt it. She grew up in the mountains- cold is all she knows.

As we settle in to this new position and she tucks us under the covers, my head pillowed by her chest. “On nights like these, I’m very grateful for tavern beds.” I laugh, and she pecks the crown of my head. She’s careful not to touch my horns. You shouldn’t touch a demon’s tail or horns without express permission, which I have given her many times, but she’s insisting that she doesn’t want to hurt me as she knows my horns can be tender.

I can feel the pull of sleep, but I open one eye to look at her. She kisses the eyelid of the one I’ve closed, then kisses the other to lavish her attention equally. Her kisses are always gentle and soft, and often consists of small pecks or quick kisses before battle. She doesn’t enjoy tongue when we kiss and she detests sloppy make out sessions, but she puts up with them for me. I sigh, and lay my head down.

“I can’t quiet my mind, so I think I’ll read.” She says, reaching for a book of spells on the nightstand. I groan, my tail encircling her left calf gently. “Ugh, you and your damn magic books.” I complain, and I’m very proud to hear the soft laugh she allows past her lips. I smile against her skin, and she ignores it. “Seriously, Sparky. Ever tied just closing your eyes? Even witches need sleep.” I amend, eye still closed and voice slightly muffled from her skin.