That meant he was at least a hundred years old, at least almost eighty years older than him. If they hadn’t been kindred, they wouldn’t have met, not even born in the same century. How odd of a feeling. Either way, he didn’t see Joseph as a punk, though it wasn’t like he could comment on who anyone was in that kind of stereotyping.
There were those nerves, fluttering in his stomach. He wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, not fully, but his heart would have skipped a beat at the sweetness. Rhys had always kind of expected if he had a first time, it would have been gentle and sweet, but he had learned that it wasn’t exactly what he’d yearned for. At least not this time.
“I-” There was a pause, a silly sweet smile on his face that he really couldn’t help. “It is something. Waking up to you...” He’d always woken up alone after Henry left, and even then, the only time he’d woken to his sire was the night after he awoke kindred for the first time. Fingers played with wavy dark hair, that smile calming a little. “I’m glad.”