He'd just been about to ask—if he could find his way to it—if she would stay. He smiled slightly at her, one of his rare smiles that however tired and worn shifted a planet's axis. "Yes. Please stay."
He bent over to take off his boots. Straightening, he also looked at the bed. He didn't want to pressure her, but he had to ask. "I can take the floor… unless you don't mind…" Ugh, he was terrible at this.
(She might learn later that his history of intimacy was one entirely dominated by his job—he'd never had a sexual partner or a bedmate where circumstances, usually including his identity, weren't dictated by something ulterior—which left him particularly terrified of doing wrong by/to her. He wasn't sure he knew how to do any of this without some form of manipulation.)
He knew he'd find the deepest rest holding her. On the other hand, he'd be more comfortable on the floor beside where she was than on a bed in another room.
no subject
He bent over to take off his boots. Straightening, he also looked at the bed. He didn't want to pressure her, but he had to ask. "I can take the floor… unless you don't mind…" Ugh, he was terrible at this.
(She might learn later that his history of intimacy was one entirely dominated by his job—he'd never had a sexual partner or a bedmate where circumstances, usually including his identity, weren't dictated by something ulterior—which left him particularly terrified of doing wrong by/to her. He wasn't sure he knew how to do any of this without some form of manipulation.)
He knew he'd find the deepest rest holding her. On the other hand, he'd be more comfortable on the floor beside where she was than on a bed in another room.