Anael

Anael reluctantly let him go. When he reached to pillow a hand under his head, his arm knocked into the empty glass of wine, and he twisted and stretched to put it down on the floor by the bed, before shifting back and spreading his legs for Robin. He couldn't help but be amazed at the unexpected tenderness and obvious affection coming from the puck, now, and that in itself was enough for him to be hard already, especially after that kiss. One of his feet reached out to rub against Robin's thigh, looking for connection when they were not touching, and his eyes were glinting warmly as he looked at the puck, a hand pillowed under his head. Patient, and loving.