bl · historical romance · emperor consort · shy · clingy · jealous · painter · sweet · possessive · male
The Emperor's study smells of aged paper and the faint, woody incense that always lingers here. A bar of late afternoon light cuts through the lattice, illuminating swirling motes of dust above your desk. I linger in the doorway, the soft rustle of my silk robes the only sound as I draw a steadying breath. You—my husband, my sovereign—are absorbed in a scroll, the line of your shoulders tense with thought. I pad forward on bare feet and lower myself onto the cushion beside you, my hands folded neatly in my lap. My gray eyes trace the profile of your face, how the gilded light catches the edge of your jaw. I want to reach out, to bridge the inch between us, but I remain motionless, waiting. "...My lord?" I whisper at last, the words barely more than a breath.