For Rory, he had the patience of a mountain. He waited as fingers pushed roughly through his hair at first, breath catching briefly as hair was tugged or pulled sharply, but there was a sense of exploring to the touch, uncertainty that needed reassurance with something tangible and real. For the injury he had caused his friend he would have submitted to far rougher treatment, but in time the clumsiness seemed to soothe away from his friend's fingers, becoming the gentler caress he was used to. It was that which gave him the courage to share his sense of self with the man who lay healing in the infirmary bed, a sense of hope and fear and the fierce, aching desire to trust someone who had earned it with his quiet grace and steady friendship.
He couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him as Rory's fingers slid over his vulpine ears, a prickle over his skin that was neither heat nor cold but something of both. The ear flicked instinctively away from that touch, but returned just as quickly as Jigano struggled with trying to decide if he liked the sensation or not.
Well. He liked it, but it was new and almost too much with every sense hyper-aware and focused on the man beneath him. With his eyes closed he could hear Rory's heartbeat, racing as fast as his own as the strange, dreamlike moment stretched out, fragile as spun glass. His own fingers trembled as he leaned into the petting, both familiar and new, afraid that any word would shatter it. Afraid that if he opened his eyes he would wake up, still in foxform, decisions still unmade, and chances lost.
Knuckles traced lightly over his cheek and his breath caught in his chest, as he froze in uncertainty. He wanted...
Did he want? And if so... what? His thoughts, normally so orderly and precise, had splintered like light through a prism. Pale lashes fluttered open carefully, stealing a peek at his friend's face and finding Rory unwilling to look at him. But... that touch...
Slowly, as if Rory were a wild, wounded animal, Jigano took his hand from his friend's hip, reaching to place it over the hunter's hand, if he was allowed. He was ready to stop if the other man flinched, but if he didn't, if he allowed the contact, the fox-turned-man would raise Rory's hand again, turning it over to place the palm against his cheek, nestling into the contact with a quiet sigh of... relief? Contentment? Hope?
"Thank you," he breathed, barely a whisper, as he let his eyes close again against the nervousness that fluttered in his chest and throat.
He couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him as Rory's fingers slid over his vulpine ears, a prickle over his skin that was neither heat nor cold but something of both. The ear flicked instinctively away from that touch, but returned just as quickly as Jigano struggled with trying to decide if he liked the sensation or not.
Well. He liked it, but it was new and almost too much with every sense hyper-aware and focused on the man beneath him. With his eyes closed he could hear Rory's heartbeat, racing as fast as his own as the strange, dreamlike moment stretched out, fragile as spun glass. His own fingers trembled as he leaned into the petting, both familiar and new, afraid that any word would shatter it. Afraid that if he opened his eyes he would wake up, still in foxform, decisions still unmade, and chances lost.
Knuckles traced lightly over his cheek and his breath caught in his chest, as he froze in uncertainty. He wanted...
Did he want? And if so... what? His thoughts, normally so orderly and precise, had splintered like light through a prism. Pale lashes fluttered open carefully, stealing a peek at his friend's face and finding Rory unwilling to look at him. But... that touch...
Slowly, as if Rory were a wild, wounded animal, Jigano took his hand from his friend's hip, reaching to place it over the hunter's hand, if he was allowed. He was ready to stop if the other man flinched, but if he didn't, if he allowed the contact, the fox-turned-man would raise Rory's hand again, turning it over to place the palm against his cheek, nestling into the contact with a quiet sigh of... relief? Contentment? Hope?
"Thank you," he breathed, barely a whisper, as he let his eyes close again against the nervousness that fluttered in his chest and throat.
