He had seen many sides of Rory already: the sunlight and the clouds, the sweetness and the storms, the caged beast yearning for freedom and the defender of his people at the cost of that freedom... He had come to care deeply for his friend - more than his friend (more than just caring) - with every new piece of himself that the hunter shared. But he had only ever seen flickers of the predator that wore a man's shape, too often leashed by a man's worries and uncertainties. Tonight, however, beneath a million stars, with the warm breezes of Flowerbirth caressing their skin, he found himself facing not a man but the wolf beneath that human disguise and fancy clothing.
Gods, he was a fool for not seeing Rory like this sooner.
A shiver traveled down his spine as Rory drank, but it was chased with heat, not cold, and a yearning to pull the hunter into his arms. He wanted, with a strength he'd never imagined he would feel, and Isuma's yellow eyes opened at last as she blinked at her companion with something that might have been smug satisfaction. When Rory set the tankard down she leapt to the counter and from there to the ground, watching the two men in silence as they fell into a world of their own.
Jigano barely noticed, captured as he was by the single word that filled him with relief and a fierce desire to fix what had been left undone. He might have found words, then, might have laughed in joy at the strength of emotions coursing through him and the enchanting intensity of those fiery blue eyes, but Rory reached out and silenced him with a touch. A single finger, tracing along his jaw, leaving sparks in its wake and snaring the bard as his breath froze in his chest.
The fox tilted his chin up at that touch, a subtle baring of his throat as he looked down at the wolf from beneath half-closed lids. He knew his own strength, his own speed, but he welcomed the hand that had done so much more than tame him. In that moment he would have done whatever Rory had asked of him, but the challenge that rumbled from the hunter's chest had him closing his eyes and savoring the words.
"Keep up," he murmured, but his own challenge was wasted when he reached out to clasp his partner's hand, pulling Rory along with him as he made his way through the festival-goers in their bright clothes and laughter, his grip tightening to make sure they weren't parted by the crowd. He didn't head for the larger circles of musicians, playing lively music for line dances and country dances, where partners were switched and shared and tossed about with much laughter and energetic merriment. He had no desire to share tonight. He wanted Rory in his arms and no one else's, just this onceand more than once, and damn the consequences.
He found what he was looking for towards the edge of the festival, a pair of fiddlers and a flute and a half dozen couples pressed close and ignoring the other dancers - and the world - around them. The music was slow, the steps simple, and Jigano found himself suddenly hesitant, his fey strength abandoning him as quickly as it had come as he looked back to Rory with a pale brow arched in a silent question: was this alright?
Gods, he was a fool for not seeing Rory like this sooner.
A shiver traveled down his spine as Rory drank, but it was chased with heat, not cold, and a yearning to pull the hunter into his arms. He wanted, with a strength he'd never imagined he would feel, and Isuma's yellow eyes opened at last as she blinked at her companion with something that might have been smug satisfaction. When Rory set the tankard down she leapt to the counter and from there to the ground, watching the two men in silence as they fell into a world of their own.
Jigano barely noticed, captured as he was by the single word that filled him with relief and a fierce desire to fix what had been left undone. He might have found words, then, might have laughed in joy at the strength of emotions coursing through him and the enchanting intensity of those fiery blue eyes, but Rory reached out and silenced him with a touch. A single finger, tracing along his jaw, leaving sparks in its wake and snaring the bard as his breath froze in his chest.
The fox tilted his chin up at that touch, a subtle baring of his throat as he looked down at the wolf from beneath half-closed lids. He knew his own strength, his own speed, but he welcomed the hand that had done so much more than tame him. In that moment he would have done whatever Rory had asked of him, but the challenge that rumbled from the hunter's chest had him closing his eyes and savoring the words.
"Keep up," he murmured, but his own challenge was wasted when he reached out to clasp his partner's hand, pulling Rory along with him as he made his way through the festival-goers in their bright clothes and laughter, his grip tightening to make sure they weren't parted by the crowd. He didn't head for the larger circles of musicians, playing lively music for line dances and country dances, where partners were switched and shared and tossed about with much laughter and energetic merriment. He had no desire to share tonight. He wanted Rory in his arms and no one else's, just this once
He found what he was looking for towards the edge of the festival, a pair of fiddlers and a flute and a half dozen couples pressed close and ignoring the other dancers - and the world - around them. The music was slow, the steps simple, and Jigano found himself suddenly hesitant, his fey strength abandoning him as quickly as it had come as he looked back to Rory with a pale brow arched in a silent question: was this alright?
