He was learning that, beast-souled though he was, and human though Rory was, the hunter had a predator's heart in that warm chest that was the equal of anything the once-kitsune could claim. He half-expected a talon to tip his friend's finger as he reached out to stroke him, lightly, teasingly, tracing scars Jigano had shown no one else and leaving him breathless with anticipation. He gripped his belt with white-knuckled fingers to stop himself from reaching back and echoing the gesture in spite of the fabric still in the way. He wanted to see Rory too, ached to lift the tunic off of him and see him without bandages.
Wanted to kiss the scars he'd left on his dear one's body, a wordless apology and silent promise to replace the memory of pain with overwhelming pleasure.
But there were hands that raised to catch him again, to hold him as though he were something precious and when he looked in Rory's eyes he believed it. For a moment he stood frozen, helpless, not daring to even breathe as he waited for his lover's answer, and when it came it was so much better than he had imagined. The kiss was soft, a benediction on his lips as he tilted his head into it, letting the hunter retreat only reluctantly.
He had no sense of the cool night air on his skin. He was a fire, blazing from within and obedient to Rory's desires, as the beast in Rory answered to him. He had found his partner, his equal, his strength, and his weakness all in one man, and he could deny him nothing. It took effort to loosen his hands, to move them slowly to unclasp his belt and from there to the ties of his breeches. He paused, eyes locked on Rory's face, watching his lover watching him, and he licked his lips as he savored the moment. Then, with a flicker of wicked teasing, he shifted his weight and his hands to pull off first one boot, then the other. It was damnably uncomfortable as tender parts of him were caught and squeezed within the leather of his pants, but the ache of restraint was sweet in the promise of what was to come.
Only then did he loosen the final ties, skimming out of the breeches in a single liquid movement and straightening up again as he stepped forward, giving Rory only a moment to drink him in before he was pressed close to the hunter once more, hands on the blond man's hips and teeth nipping gently at his ear. "Your turn," he rumbled, in that echo of a fox's growl, and impatient fingers began to tug at the beautiful blue tunic, intending to strip it from Rory with a care to protect the feathers still braided into his sunlight hair.
Wanted to kiss the scars he'd left on his dear one's body, a wordless apology and silent promise to replace the memory of pain with overwhelming pleasure.
But there were hands that raised to catch him again, to hold him as though he were something precious and when he looked in Rory's eyes he believed it. For a moment he stood frozen, helpless, not daring to even breathe as he waited for his lover's answer, and when it came it was so much better than he had imagined. The kiss was soft, a benediction on his lips as he tilted his head into it, letting the hunter retreat only reluctantly.
He had no sense of the cool night air on his skin. He was a fire, blazing from within and obedient to Rory's desires, as the beast in Rory answered to him. He had found his partner, his equal, his strength, and his weakness all in one man, and he could deny him nothing. It took effort to loosen his hands, to move them slowly to unclasp his belt and from there to the ties of his breeches. He paused, eyes locked on Rory's face, watching his lover watching him, and he licked his lips as he savored the moment. Then, with a flicker of wicked teasing, he shifted his weight and his hands to pull off first one boot, then the other. It was damnably uncomfortable as tender parts of him were caught and squeezed within the leather of his pants, but the ache of restraint was sweet in the promise of what was to come.
Only then did he loosen the final ties, skimming out of the breeches in a single liquid movement and straightening up again as he stepped forward, giving Rory only a moment to drink him in before he was pressed close to the hunter once more, hands on the blond man's hips and teeth nipping gently at his ear. "Your turn," he rumbled, in that echo of a fox's growl, and impatient fingers began to tug at the beautiful blue tunic, intending to strip it from Rory with a care to protect the feathers still braided into his sunlight hair.
