It was too slow, this pause as they regarded each other; Rory's chest was rising and falling, his breathing still fast, his fingers clasped around his elbows to keep himself from assaulting Jigano and tearing the pants from him. He dug his nails through the fabric and into his skin, caught between frustration and anticipation (and a twinge of amusement, as Jigano got back at him). He was just standing there all by his lonesome as Jigano licked his lips so tantalizingly and then began to remove his boots.
With an inhuman, yet oddly appreciative, growl Rory brought his hands up, folding them behind his neck as he pressed his arms against his head. He had nowhere useful to put his hands, and something about watching Jigano so slowly, so teasingly get out of his clothes had him wanting to scream helplessly.
His eyes burned with dark fire as he stared at him, willing him to hurry up and just get the hell out of his pants already—
And he was rewarded; there was nothing elegant about grinding your hips against someone, not really, but for a moment elegance was back in the equation. "Showoff," he found himself breathing, trying to take in the sight of him, his gaze meaningfully sweeping down—but he had no time to stand and savor the sight of his lithe body, no time to withhold himself and tease or say something else, because his vision was once again silver hair and honeyed skin, pale in the night, pressed against him. "Your turn," Jigano told him and he shivered.
Fingers brushed against his skin as they began to haul the tunic up, and Rory was more than willing to have the shirt tugged up over his head, carefully sparing his feathers from rough treatment—a concern that was far beyond him, but he suffered through it.
The night air raised goosebumps on his hot skin.
He spread his hands over Jigano's waist, fingers spidering along his skin as he pulled him close, skin on skin; he buried his face against his shoulder again, lipping at his throat as he wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight for a moment.
Warmth. Warmth on warmth. His breath shuddered against Jigano's skin as he brushed one of his hands lower, following the contour of his backside to the back of his thigh. There, he traced little circles, before letting his fingers ghost around to the front and drift up, dangerously close to his groin as he leaned up to put his mouth at the base of a triangular, fuzzy ear. "All of it?" he whispered without a shred of doubt, letting his hand rest on the skin between his navel and hip.
With an inhuman, yet oddly appreciative, growl Rory brought his hands up, folding them behind his neck as he pressed his arms against his head. He had nowhere useful to put his hands, and something about watching Jigano so slowly, so teasingly get out of his clothes had him wanting to scream helplessly.
His eyes burned with dark fire as he stared at him, willing him to hurry up and just get the hell out of his pants already—
And he was rewarded; there was nothing elegant about grinding your hips against someone, not really, but for a moment elegance was back in the equation. "Showoff," he found himself breathing, trying to take in the sight of him, his gaze meaningfully sweeping down—but he had no time to stand and savor the sight of his lithe body, no time to withhold himself and tease or say something else, because his vision was once again silver hair and honeyed skin, pale in the night, pressed against him. "Your turn," Jigano told him and he shivered.
Fingers brushed against his skin as they began to haul the tunic up, and Rory was more than willing to have the shirt tugged up over his head, carefully sparing his feathers from rough treatment—a concern that was far beyond him, but he suffered through it.
The night air raised goosebumps on his hot skin.
He spread his hands over Jigano's waist, fingers spidering along his skin as he pulled him close, skin on skin; he buried his face against his shoulder again, lipping at his throat as he wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight for a moment.
Warmth. Warmth on warmth. His breath shuddered against Jigano's skin as he brushed one of his hands lower, following the contour of his backside to the back of his thigh. There, he traced little circles, before letting his fingers ghost around to the front and drift up, dangerously close to his groin as he leaned up to put his mouth at the base of a triangular, fuzzy ear. "All of it?" he whispered without a shred of doubt, letting his hand rest on the skin between his navel and hip.
