Skip navigation

There are some small constants in this bizarre life of mine. No matter what else happens, one of them is what happens when I curl up to sleep. Regardless of how much I’ve seen my divine husbands during the day, regardless of how much I’m able to sense them – and I’m not particularly good at that, necessarily- I always get the same thing when I lie down to sleep: the sensation of them curling up in bed with me. Even on days I can’t hear them (most days, unless I’m actively trying) or see them (again, most days) or sense them with my empathy (much rarer, but still happens) I always get that: the tactile sense of them lying on either side of me. Always the same way, too. Like a small ritual. Something for us all to hold on to.

I sleep on my side, with Loki pressed to my front, his head tucked under my chin, his hair tickling my arm and his limbs all tangled up in mine. He clings, a little, when he’s sleepy; all warm and demanding. Always wanting that bit more closeness, no matter how undignified he might look getting it. Doesn’t want to move his face from where it’s nestled into my chest.

Then there’s Morpheus, moulded to my back, the long line of his body always touching, but gentle, less insistent than Loki. Just there and soft and cool to the touch, his breath on the back of my neck and his smiles hidden between my shoulderblades. If he’s awake, his fingertips are restless, tracing invisible patterns on my skin, and Loki’s, wherever he can reach. Curling one of his wings over us, like an extra blanket, all soft feathers and the way he smells. He sometimes stays awake, I think, watching the two of us dream. I wonder sometimes what he dreams of, because he’s said he sleeps when we do, sometimes. Maybe one day he’ll tell me, if I ask.

For now, it’s one of the best parts of my day, falling asleep with the two of them curled around me. Some days, I’m not doing well or they’re busy or both and they could be screaming at me and I wouldn’t hear them. I’m not always able to journey as much as I’d like, we don’t always get time or space for sex, or magic or even a simple conversation. Most of the time, I’m going off wordless emotions, thanks to my empathy- and I feel like I’m playing twenty questions and waiting for whatever emotion that isn’t mine to get stronger as a clue that I hit on the right idea. But this, this simple thing, always gets through. There’s no meaning, no deeper purpose. No point to it beyond simple closeness. And I wouldn’t trade it for all the mystic awesomeness in the world.

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: