Lingering Glance (Patreon)

All is the same, even down to the fireplace. But while yours was cold and barren, this one has embers glowing softly in its depths. And where yours had a lonely carpet in front of it, this one has a kneeled Hadrian occupying the space.

*if cross

You hold the cross on your neck, silently apologizing for all your previous blasphemies, for there must be a God after all. A generous, benevolent God who listens to your wishes and grants them in full, compassionate force.

*if Juturna

Your fingers find the contours of Juturna's gift to you, squeezing the gold into your palm. What a blessing indeed. Perhaps the gods and goddesses listen closely after all, for here is your wish, right in front of you.

*if none

You blink. Maybe Fate has finally decided to smile upon you, for you find your inner thoughts coming to materialize before you. Like a dream plucked into reality, so here he is.

His head is bowed, and you can't see his eyes, but you bet they're closed. Deep brown hair, in its usual state of disarray, falls down what little you can see of his forehead, a sense of peace and quiet oozing from him into the room. Hadrian's back is to you, his whole, bare back with wide shoulders and neverending skin and a spine that dips into the waistband of loose pants.

1) You lean onto the threshold, head cocked as you take him in with a grin.

2) Heat explodes on your cheeks, and your heart races, but you stay in place. Staring wide-eyed at him.

3) You smile, something akin to fondness growing on your chest. He prays, of course.

4) You immediately snap your eyes to the ground. You're invading his privacy.

5) You lift both of your eyebrows. Why is he doing this now? You need to leave.

- - -

1) What a sight you're greeted to, right in the morning.

Your lips quirk as you lean your shoulder on the threshold and cross your feet one over the other. Watching him in silence as not to interrupt, so that you can properly admire the man you have before you.

The embers on the fireplace crack and groan, flames reflected on the elaborate tiles. You're too far to see if they too mirror the ones in your room, but you can easily see the cross painted right in the middle. It's made of five tiles, their smooth surfaces seeming to glaze with the flames.

Flames that also have an effect on Hadrian. The lights dance on his outline, bathing the skin of his arms and sides, making the shadows dance across the planes of his back. Your smirk grows while you watch how it accentuates his muscles, how it makes it seem as if his shoulders are even broader.

His skin is tanned, and you can see the traces of faint little scars scattered all over. His biceps, his ribs, on the dip of his waist.

He is quiet and immobile, almost as if he's made of stone. Head bowed, and hands you cannot see undoubtedly pressed together at his front.

1) You slowly open your mouth. "Hadrian," you call in a gentle tone.

2) "Bad time?" you quip, *smirk tilting to one side.

3) "Is that how you sleep?" you wonder aloud. "Because if so, Hadrian, you've been hiding a very impressive secret."

4) You take a deep breath. "I'm sorry but..." You shake your head. "We need to go."

5) You won't disturb him. You bite your lip and let him finish his prayers.

6) Why on God's scorned earth would you ruin this? You stay quiet, wondering how long it'll take him to take notice of you.

7) Despite yourself, your brows pull into a frown. Can he not hear you? You could attack him, and he'd be none the wiser.