Urianger watches the flush spread across the bridge of Thancred's nose with no small amount of relish, having sorely missed the way his lover struggles to hide his desire when they're alone together. He wants to kiss him again, wants to lean in and take all he can between lips and tongueโ
But then Thancred pushes at his shoulder, allowing just enough space to form between them to cool him off a little. Urianger blinks slowly, his irises a thin gold ring around twin puddles of black, and licks his lips just the once as he allows himself to be guided towards the bed. Thancred isn't wrong: he is in a state โ and one that has only increased for every day spent apart โ and while managing it had been relatively painless in the Hyur's absence?
His presence is nigh unbearble.
"No discomfort wrought from a swive against the door could outweigh the ache of thy distance these past weeks," he replies, pulling at the gold chains adorning his torso with his free hand. When they finally reach the bed he's managed to loosen them all enough that they slip off with ease, clattering into a heap against the floor to be dealt with later on.
"I am but a man, Thancred, and one of flesh and blood. Only a lover hewn from stone could bear these lonely nights without thy touch."
... A tad dramatic, to be sure, but Urianger has always been fond of a theatrical touch. He toes out of soft sandals, shrugs off the loose material of his chiton, before turning to Thancred in little more than his sweeping skirt and smalls. His hands move to the white cut of his coat to help ease from his shoulders and onto the floor, before skimming the tips of long fingers up the hot, hard curves of well-used biceps.
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Urianger watches the flush spread across the bridge of Thancred's nose with no small amount of relish, having sorely missed the way his lover struggles to hide his desire when they're alone together. He wants to kiss him again, wants to lean in and take all he can between lips and tongueโ
But then Thancred pushes at his shoulder, allowing just enough space to form between them to cool him off a little. Urianger blinks slowly, his irises a thin gold ring around twin puddles of black, and licks his lips just the once as he allows himself to be guided towards the bed. Thancred isn't wrong: he is in a state โ and one that has only increased for every day spent apart โ and while managing it had been relatively painless in the Hyur's absence?
His presence is nigh unbearble.
"No discomfort wrought from a swive against the door could outweigh the ache of thy distance these past weeks," he replies, pulling at the gold chains adorning his torso with his free hand. When they finally reach the bed he's managed to loosen them all enough that they slip off with ease, clattering into a heap against the floor to be dealt with later on.
"I am but a man, Thancred, and one of flesh and blood. Only a lover hewn from stone could bear these lonely nights without thy touch."
... A tad dramatic, to be sure, but Urianger has always been fond of a theatrical touch. He toes out of soft sandals, shrugs off the loose material of his chiton, before turning to Thancred in little more than his sweeping skirt and smalls. His hands move to the white cut of his coat to help ease from his shoulders and onto the floor, before skimming the tips of long fingers up the hot, hard curves of well-used biceps.