The night was dizzy, or maybe it was just him. The stars spun around them, flickering behind his closed eyes as the normally-wary fox tuned out the world until he felt only Rory's touch on his body, heard only his breath and quiet groans, drowned in the intoxicating scent of the man who was still not close enough. For a moment the feel of the hunter's hands was drowned out by the whisper of lips tracing over his skin, an intimacy he had been dreaming of more and more lately, since his dreams had returned. Only...
This was no dream. It was wonderfully, wickedly real and they were both afire with the need for each other. No questions about 'wanting' or 'needing' remained - they had already been answered, in quiet growls and soft groans that needed no words. Jigano inhaled sharply at the kiss to his collarbone, so different from the harder attention to his neck - and just as passionate, in a different way. His breath came shallower as fingers flexed and yearned to slip beneath fabric to caress silken skin, to trace the hollows and planes of that lean, taut body with hands and lips until he had memorized every inch of it - and then start all over again.
And then Rory's hands moved again and the lorekeeper forgot that they were surrounded by an audience as a quiet moan slipped from his throat and he tilted his head back against the sweetly gentle hand in his hair, and the far more knowing hand that brought hips together and left him aching in a way his friend and partner could not fail to mistake. His graceful feet stumbled to a halt as he wrapped fierce, careful arms tight around the incredible man who was doing such amazing things to him, and he pressed his lips to Rory's ear, his normally-musical voice a husky purr.
"The Glade," he murmured. "Not far. I want to kiss you... please?" Not the most eloquent or sensible words he'd ever spoken, but Rory had already driven him beyond eloquence, and sense of anything other than the blond hunter's lips and touch was slipping quickly.
This was no dream. It was wonderfully, wickedly real and they were both afire with the need for each other. No questions about 'wanting' or 'needing' remained - they had already been answered, in quiet growls and soft groans that needed no words. Jigano inhaled sharply at the kiss to his collarbone, so different from the harder attention to his neck - and just as passionate, in a different way. His breath came shallower as fingers flexed and yearned to slip beneath fabric to caress silken skin, to trace the hollows and planes of that lean, taut body with hands and lips until he had memorized every inch of it - and then start all over again.
And then Rory's hands moved again and the lorekeeper forgot that they were surrounded by an audience as a quiet moan slipped from his throat and he tilted his head back against the sweetly gentle hand in his hair, and the far more knowing hand that brought hips together and left him aching in a way his friend and partner could not fail to mistake. His graceful feet stumbled to a halt as he wrapped fierce, careful arms tight around the incredible man who was doing such amazing things to him, and he pressed his lips to Rory's ear, his normally-musical voice a husky purr.
"The Glade," he murmured. "Not far. I want to kiss you... please?" Not the most eloquent or sensible words he'd ever spoken, but Rory had already driven him beyond eloquence, and sense of anything other than the blond hunter's lips and touch was slipping quickly.
