I saw fanart. That’s all of an excuse I need, it seems.
Malva is sick in his bed.
She wakes up like that, eyes puffy and nose dripping. There’s something going around the Plateau, and she must have caught it on her trip back from Luminose. Nothing was apparent last night. She ate, laughed, kissed, and scratched with the same amount of ferocity - with that perfect cross between sensual and playful. It could sate him for days, really.
Right now, however? With her hair down and disheveled, shivering underneath his thick, blue blankets…it was hard to believe her fingers brushed up against his chest hours before, her touch twisting his throat, his grip tightening around her soft hips…
“Siebold,” Malva’s voice is raw and low, and he can tell from her infliction that she hardly likes the sound, “It’s cold.”
“I know,” Siebold replies, throwing his side of the covers over her as he rummages the floor for a spare pair of sweats, “Do you think putting your clothes back on will help?”