rps+Tomie] NOT+REAL?

It's Christmas season again.

The thick clouds outside the window press down on the dusk, and the damp cold that invades the skin seems to have a magical attack; the orange lights in the house are flickering, in the dry and warm comfort; between them, there is the moistness that seems to come from spring—the golden sun is spreading on the ocher soil On it, bright red and white are intertwined, moving with the rhythm of breathing.

The staggered time and space in their consciousness taught them to forget the years of acquaintance, but the eyes of the similar clear blue eyes never seemed to change.

For these two beautiful young people, a pair of lovers, it may be that the years have given them special treatment, or their hearts have never changed since they first met.

During the interval of panting, the red-haired young man raised his face and muttered.Slender and slender fingers walked along the loose golden hair of the other party, and gently tapped to wipe away the thin beads of sweat.

"Where... are we? London? Hogwarts? Godric's Hill—"

Caught off guard, the warm breath blocked the unfinished question, and even the hands were pulled, and quickly but gently and restrainedly wrapped around the waist of the man, and clasped them.

"...why...can't it be Nurmengard?" Those eyes narrowed, slightly raised with a bit of charm, at such a close distance, they seemed to be the reflection of the whole world.

"Where do you like best...is where..."

"My favorite... my favorite... that's... Hogwarts..."

"I know...you like children? Those children...are always cute...and noisy...not sensible..."

The blond-haired young man stopped suddenly. He looked deeply into the eyes that only accommodated him now, and said seriously and firmly:

"It's enough for you to have me alone."

"Maybe...but, you don't know..."

A few locks of ocher red hair hung down to cover her, and her arms clasped her shoulders as if competing with each other.

"I know...you want to have a baby...that interview...isn't it?"

"Are you free? I've seen that—well—"

"Then... pray! It doesn't matter if he is Merlin or God, Santa or Satan—someone will hear!"

I am your Merlin, your God; you are my Santa and my Satan.

As long as you hear it, it's fine.

He was picked up horizontally by him, and then pushed back down, the bodies as beautiful as ancient Greek sculptures were harmoniously intertwined, intertwined under the neatly decorated Christmas tree.The ups and downs of the breath make the little fairy stuck on the top of the tree look alive, and the looped wool socks hanging on the branches are also swaying.

He replaced him with the enthusiasm and wildness at the concert with thousands of people; his dazzling madness is only for him.

There was snow outside the window.

Tomorrow is beautiful.

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