Rook felt like he was in heaven.
To have his treasure cuddled up in his arms at every chance they got made him the luckiest man in the world, as there was nothing greater than getting to observe you up close. The way your body would relax against his when he wrapped his arms around you, the sweet scent of your skin invading his senses as you beckoned him closer with a mumbled plea that he couldn’t deny. You would bare your neck to him and he would submit to your whims, allowing your lips to grace him with a thousand loving kisses before he felt content.
He thinks he might be driven insane if you denied him this pleasure, the pleasure of being loved by you with an intensity that rivaled his own. You held him close each night like you feared he might disappear and perhaps that was his own fault, with his whimsical personality and the careful distance he placed despite worshipping the ground you walked on. Rook hardly allowed people to be close to him, emotionally not physically, and this relationship was one of the things that instilled a fear like no other. How was he to get close to another person if you left him? If this love proved false?
Rook would rather not think of it.
When he laid like this with you, the only think he should think about was the bright future ahead.