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There was no real need for sleep in Morpheus' realm. Dreams and Nightmares did not tire, so they did not rest. The cycles of the sun and moon changed from location to location, and sometimes they never moved at all. Even the denizens who were not crafted by his own hand hardly slept, and if so, only sparingly.
So, really, there was hardly any use for a bed in the Dreaming. There was no reason for her to lay on it, hands tucked to her chest and eyes closed shut. There was no reason for her to feel cold fingers run down her back, for soft lips to press tender kisses against her nape. There was no reason for her to sleep, for she did not tire and she did not dream.
"Do you ever wish I had made you different?" He murmured into her skin. She turned, nose pressing against his. He was as beautiful as the day she'd first awakened in the Dreaming. His eyes like the cosmos, cold, deep, inviting. So easy to get lost in that she'd almost forgotten what life was like before them.
She closed her eyes once more and felt the ghost of his kiss brush against her lips. She leaned in and let the warmth overcome her.
He pressed his fingers against her spine, softly stroking the empty spot between her shoulder blades.
"No." Lucienne whispered. "You told me you could remake me, mold me into whatever I hoped to be."
“But surely you miss your wings? You loved flying, Lucienne. You cannot fool me into thinking otherwise.”
“I loved the freedom, my lord.”
He shifted, gently pushing her down so he now straddled her hips. “Lucienne.”
She smiled up at him, finding some strange satisfaction with the irate expression he now donned. “Yes, my lord?”
“You know better than to call me that here.”
“Yes,” She smiled once more. “-my lord, I do know better.”
He sighed, slumping against her and burying his face into the crook of her neck. Lucienne didn’t mind. She would never admit it, but she cherished these moments when she could. She understood him far better than others, but it was pleasant to receive a reminder every few centuries how much he truly relied on her existence
So she let him stay with her, she let him kiss her and whisper words that they’d wish were left unspoken. She let him pretend he was not far past formality with her. She let him hold her and love her, if only for a night.
Lucienne carded her hands through his hair, stroked the back of his neck, felt his soft exhale at the base of her throat.
“Morpheus.” she whispered into the shell of his ear. She smiled as he buried his nose in her skin and kissed the sore spots on her collar. “I do not regret losing my wings. I have long since accustomed myself to their absence. With them I could never have assumed this form, I would not have my library, and the position I find myself in as your counselor.”
She let herself pretend that she was not in love with him and deluded herself into thinking he did not love her back.
He rose on his elbows, staring at her through the strands of his hair. She cupped his cheek and smiled softly when he intertwined their fingers.
“You were beautiful, Lucienne.” he murmured. “And you still are. Not a day goes by where I do not find myself thankful for the pleasure of having known you.”
She rubbed his cheek, knowing full well that they would return to their routine soon enough. “And I you, Morpheus.” she murmured, watching keenly as he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed soft lines down her wrist.
“I would not have chosen anyone else to bestow my trust in so deeply, so I must ask.”
She did not speak, merely nodded.
“Do you love the Dreaming?”
Lucienne stared at him, at the cosmos contained within his eyes, and found nothing but desperation. A deep understanding that she’d understand what he truly meant, even if he could not yet bring himself to say it.
So she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth, felt his lips give way over her until his breath was the only thing she needed to survive. Quietly she hoped that when she answered he would understand the truth in her words, understand the honesty that hurt a little too much for her to bear.
“Yes.”