Rory felt the fingers slip out of his hair, burying the loss of it along with the other points of contact he had abandoned: sacrifices he was willing to make as he kissed his way around Jigano. He shivered, as much from anticipation as a stray breeze swirling up around him, not thinking so much as feeling something nervous coil in the pit of his stomach.
He had done this countless times before—taken and been taken in return—but it had been nearly a decade since he'd had a first time with someone he cared for.
He hadn't expected the fingers to tangle back in his hair again so soon, a startled, pleased growl rumbling in the back of his mouth. He could feel the hunger in the fingertips, in the pulse trembling beneath his lips, heard it in the breathing above him in the darkness.
There was no need to be nervous, absolutely no need to think. Their bodies were all the guide he needed, two hands twining in his hair, and Rory briefly pressed his face against the inside of Jigano's thigh, savoring the sensation sending fresh shivers down his spine.
He was wanted as much as he wanted, staring hungrily up Jigano's flat stomach to his blue eyes. Fingers dug pleasantly into his head and he tilted back slightly into the touch, eyes half-closing, gently nurturing the warmth coiling in his gut; a brief relinquishing of the control he held of the moment, despite the fact that he was half-kneeling in front of Jigano.
But power was about more than the physical, his warm breath against Jigano's skin a reminder of that.
”Please,” the proud fox whispered, and Rory shuddered, his stuttered breath reflecting back into his mouth. Slow, measured, he drew his lips along Jigano's length, his gaze bold and dark and unwavering and still turned up. His heart kept on crashing madly, on frenzied fire, high with daring, every nerve electric as he took Jigano in his mouth.
His eyes glittered as he began to coordinate the movements of his hand and his head, trying to pace himself for pleasure and not a finish, but he didn't know what Jigano's endurance was—hells, he didn't even know what his own endurance was, because it had been so long since last, and it felt like he had been on fire with desire for hours.
And besides, he wasn't sure he had ever wanted anyone like this before, so wholly, so entirely, with his heart as much as with his body.
He half-closed his eyes as he lost himself in it, deliciously trapped between the memory of the word please and the hands tangled in his hair.
He had done this countless times before—taken and been taken in return—but it had been nearly a decade since he'd had a first time with someone he cared for.
He hadn't expected the fingers to tangle back in his hair again so soon, a startled, pleased growl rumbling in the back of his mouth. He could feel the hunger in the fingertips, in the pulse trembling beneath his lips, heard it in the breathing above him in the darkness.
There was no need to be nervous, absolutely no need to think. Their bodies were all the guide he needed, two hands twining in his hair, and Rory briefly pressed his face against the inside of Jigano's thigh, savoring the sensation sending fresh shivers down his spine.
He was wanted as much as he wanted, staring hungrily up Jigano's flat stomach to his blue eyes. Fingers dug pleasantly into his head and he tilted back slightly into the touch, eyes half-closing, gently nurturing the warmth coiling in his gut; a brief relinquishing of the control he held of the moment, despite the fact that he was half-kneeling in front of Jigano.
But power was about more than the physical, his warm breath against Jigano's skin a reminder of that.
”Please,” the proud fox whispered, and Rory shuddered, his stuttered breath reflecting back into his mouth. Slow, measured, he drew his lips along Jigano's length, his gaze bold and dark and unwavering and still turned up. His heart kept on crashing madly, on frenzied fire, high with daring, every nerve electric as he took Jigano in his mouth.
His eyes glittered as he began to coordinate the movements of his hand and his head, trying to pace himself for pleasure and not a finish, but he didn't know what Jigano's endurance was—hells, he didn't even know what his own endurance was, because it had been so long since last, and it felt like he had been on fire with desire for hours.
And besides, he wasn't sure he had ever wanted anyone like this before, so wholly, so entirely, with his heart as much as with his body.
He half-closed his eyes as he lost himself in it, deliciously trapped between the memory of the word please and the hands tangled in his hair.
