Jigano knew of music and dances that would give them both what they wanted: swift rhythms and athletic steps, heat and sweat and fierce grins of concentration around a blazing fire, while the pipes wailed and the drums crashed and pairs leapt and twirled and came together, wearing increasingly less as the dance wore on. Gleaming, oiled skin and flying hair and the flash of metal jewelry at wrist and throat - the flash of weapons, in the hands of some, warrior-pairs dancing fiercely beside the untried bucks and maids. Barbarians, the southern folk might have called the tribes of Numeria, but they knew how to welcome spring, how to dance for fertility of family and herd and field in the coming year. Jigano had never joined in such a dance, but he had played the music for it, and he knew the steps...
Steps that had no place here. He had needed to chose between fast or close, and in the end his desire to wrap his arms around Rory and not let go had won out and now he stood, unsure if he had chosen well or let his partner down.
A foolish worry, and he knew it as soon as he met blue eyes that were dark with desire. Rory looked at him with a gaze that devoured, with an intensity that stoked the fires already burning hot and eager in the once-kitsune, and left him weak in the knees and hungry for more. His confidence might have faltered but the hunter's had not, and it was the blond wolf who took the offensive as he stepped forward with clear intent to claim and to stay right where they were.
Instincts older than conscious thought moved him as Rory advanced, the lean, white-haired fox stepping gracefully back in coy invitation, slender stag to Rory's bull. Only when they were within the circle of the music did they drift to a halt, but Jigano had stopped well within reach and now he hesitated, heart pounding, as he waited to see what Rory would do. He watched, anxious, impatient, needing the hands that paused so tantalizingly close and he shook with the effort it took not to step forward first. He waited, waited, the bare handful of seconds stretching into an eternity of anticipation as he held himself back from spooking the proud hunter by moving too fast, too soon--
And was rewarded with the settling of warm, strong hands on his waist.Too much cloth in the way, too many barriers still between them. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he exhaled shakily, reaching up to cup Rory's elbows and then trace his fingers lightly up the soft blue fabric, wishing it was skin he was touching as he found his partner's shoulders. It was a very proper sort of position for a slow dance, he knew, with several inches of space between them and nothing to scandalize any watchers.
It was also entirely wrong for them.
He didn't step so much as shift, rocking his body closer as his hands slid inwards, downwards, to rest flat on Rory's chest. The space between them narrowed to a knife blade's thinness, and as Jigano began to move them to the gentle beat of the music he dropped them further still, slipping beneath Rory's arms to curve up and flatting his palms on his partner's shoulder blades. He bit his lip, confidence and uncertainty warring within him, heart beating like a hummingbird trapped within his chest as he leaned forward to nuzzle his partner's cheek above the burn scars, his fingers flexing through cloth to feel the warmth of the body beneath, the realness of him, the brilliant fire that burned in Rory and melted Jigano's shadows, leaving him nowhere to hide.
"Closer," he whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud as his breath ghosted over Rory's skin, stirring blond hair, and he breathed in the scent of home as he fell into the gentle rhythm of the dance, oblivious to anything but the man who held him.
Steps that had no place here. He had needed to chose between fast or close, and in the end his desire to wrap his arms around Rory and not let go had won out and now he stood, unsure if he had chosen well or let his partner down.
A foolish worry, and he knew it as soon as he met blue eyes that were dark with desire. Rory looked at him with a gaze that devoured, with an intensity that stoked the fires already burning hot and eager in the once-kitsune, and left him weak in the knees and hungry for more. His confidence might have faltered but the hunter's had not, and it was the blond wolf who took the offensive as he stepped forward with clear intent to claim and to stay right where they were.
Instincts older than conscious thought moved him as Rory advanced, the lean, white-haired fox stepping gracefully back in coy invitation, slender stag to Rory's bull. Only when they were within the circle of the music did they drift to a halt, but Jigano had stopped well within reach and now he hesitated, heart pounding, as he waited to see what Rory would do. He watched, anxious, impatient, needing the hands that paused so tantalizingly close and he shook with the effort it took not to step forward first. He waited, waited, the bare handful of seconds stretching into an eternity of anticipation as he held himself back from spooking the proud hunter by moving too fast, too soon--
And was rewarded with the settling of warm, strong hands on his waist.
It was also entirely wrong for them.
He didn't step so much as shift, rocking his body closer as his hands slid inwards, downwards, to rest flat on Rory's chest. The space between them narrowed to a knife blade's thinness, and as Jigano began to move them to the gentle beat of the music he dropped them further still, slipping beneath Rory's arms to curve up and flatting his palms on his partner's shoulder blades. He bit his lip, confidence and uncertainty warring within him, heart beating like a hummingbird trapped within his chest as he leaned forward to nuzzle his partner's cheek above the burn scars, his fingers flexing through cloth to feel the warmth of the body beneath, the realness of him, the brilliant fire that burned in Rory and melted Jigano's shadows, leaving him nowhere to hide.
"Closer," he whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud as his breath ghosted over Rory's skin, stirring blond hair, and he breathed in the scent of home as he fell into the gentle rhythm of the dance, oblivious to anything but the man who held him.
