The Little One with Green Eyes

42: In The Eye of a Hurricane...

-December 2, 1991-
Voldemort awoke slowly. That, in itself was an odd occurrence, as Voldemort was used to snapping into consciousness within a split second, but perhaps the most odd occurrence was the fact that Voldemort was not alone in his bed. It was a large figure, so it definitely wasn't Little One, and a heavy arm was wrapped around his bare torso, holding him tightly against an equally bare chest. Voldemort fought through the comforting lethargic haze in his mind to wake up, and when the activities of last night finally hit him, Voldemort snapped his eyes open.

He slowly turned around, his crimson gaze finding the still sleeping Being in his bed. Death did not seem bothered by Voldemort's movements as he didn't wake, he did, however, grumble in his sleep and pull Voldemort closer to him, nuzzling his face into Voldemort's neck.

Voldemort flushed as Death's breath tickles his sensitive neck, and he shifts slightly, trying to subtly pull away from the being. He is bare under the silk bed sheets, and he could feel Death's similar state against him. It was... odd, for lack of a better term, to wake up after a night of amorous activities to see his partner still there.

Voldemort did not often take lovers, as he was too busy running a country and raising an immortal toddler, not to mention, he had no interest in romantic relationships, and sex often came with emotional attachments. Voldemort could not remember the last time he had slept with another person, but he knew he had never let the person stay the night with him.

The only person Voldemort cuddled was his son---and he was never the one being cuddled.

Voldemort frowned, unsure of how to proceed with the recent development in he and Death's relationship. The experiment was a success, and Voldemort enjoyed it greatly, but he wasn't sure how this would affect their friendship. Would Death expect more from him now that they've become physical?

Voldemort wasn't sure about it, simply because he had no experience with such a thing. Wanting to be in a relationship was a new idea to him, and he didn't want to risk messing things up and pushing Death away.

As soon as that thought crossed Voldemort's mind he instantly rejected it. Voldemort was a powerful Dark Lord! He was always in control of a situation, and if he wanted to be in a relationship with Death, then he would! Lord Voldemort had no room for something as pathetic as insecurities, and sitting here, post bliss, worrying about such things was something only pathetic children did.

Speaking of children---what is he going to tell Little One?

Little One was just a child, far too young to understand complicated relationships between adults, and the last thing Voldemort wanted was to stress out his son. What if Little One didn't want Voldemort in a relationship? He could recall several horror stories in which one of his followers attempted to get remarried, only to alienate their child in the process.

Little One was the most important thing in his life, and if he decided he didn't want Voldemort in a relationship, Voldemort would respect that. Death would too, because Voldemort wouldn't allow otherwise.

"What are you thinking about?" Death asked, apparently awake as he dragged Voldemort even closer to him.

"Us." Voldemort answered in a moment of embarrassing honesty. Voldemort clenched his teeth at the accidental confession, but stuck to it, knowing it was too late to take it back. "What we did. It changes things, doesn't it?"

Death hummed, and Voldemort could feel the vibrations against his neck. "If you want it to," he said. "Things can stay the same too, of course. We take this at your pace."

Voldemort's hand moved from the cool bedspread to clasp Death's hand, shifting slightly so that he could hold it while still resting his head on Death's arm. "I don't know what I want," he spoke. Well, in for a penny in for a pound, he supposed. "I liked this, though."