10-21-2016, 06:10 AM
Probably I should have seen it coming. But ask my Rhory any day, he’ll tell you how talented I am at being oblivious. And apparently it’s not just about other people. I ran back to his side the minute I found a prospective home for us, to tell him about it with a wary sort of hope in my eyes. But I wanted one last night on our own, curled up with my Lionheart and clinging close to his side in the dark, just him and me and the sound of a lonely owl somewhere high in the treetops. And if I was particularly urgent about returning to his side, wanting to be nestled up against him, wrapped up in his embrace, well I figured it was nothing more than just being a little uncomfortable putting myself out there in the Field. Wanting to ground myself in the familiar touch of my best friend.
I wasn’t thinking about the time of year, or the rhythms of my body, or paying any more attention than I usually do to the color of the leaves and the crisp cool autumn air and the way it was starting to wake something in me that had been sleeping for a very long time. Honestly, I haven’t had to worry about it in a while. For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve had some kind of magical influence dampening my heat cycles, at least to the extent that I didn’t have to worry about it. But now...magic’s gone, isn’t it? And turns out that includes whatever whammy Gendry and his mom put on me is gone right along with it.
So when I wake in the night surrounded by my Lionheart’s scent and his warmth and the feel of his skin against mine, heat flares to life inside me, flowing through my veins, pooling in my belly, itching beneath my skin, coaxing me to brush against him, rub my face against his shoulder, trail my lips slowly up his neck. Begging me to touch.
Whoa.
I could let him sleep. I could let the moment pass, slip away to ride out the wave of hormones and come back in a few days with nothing changed between us, maybe a little embarrassed that I’d snuck away without a word, but it was nothing we hadn’t dealt with when we were young. Here’s the thing, though...I don’t want to. I don’t want to slip away into the night, not when it feels...oh, it feels right to stay, in a way I didn’t see coming. But I never do, do I?
“Rhory?” I murmur his name, giving into the urge to trace the line of his shoulder with my lips. My heart starts to race as I follow the curve of his neck up to brush the soft of my nose against his jawline. I’ve touched him a thousand times but never like this, and it has my breath coming a little faster. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, waking him up like this. “Lionheart?”
I wasn’t thinking about the time of year, or the rhythms of my body, or paying any more attention than I usually do to the color of the leaves and the crisp cool autumn air and the way it was starting to wake something in me that had been sleeping for a very long time. Honestly, I haven’t had to worry about it in a while. For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve had some kind of magical influence dampening my heat cycles, at least to the extent that I didn’t have to worry about it. But now...magic’s gone, isn’t it? And turns out that includes whatever whammy Gendry and his mom put on me is gone right along with it.
So when I wake in the night surrounded by my Lionheart’s scent and his warmth and the feel of his skin against mine, heat flares to life inside me, flowing through my veins, pooling in my belly, itching beneath my skin, coaxing me to brush against him, rub my face against his shoulder, trail my lips slowly up his neck. Begging me to touch.
Whoa.
I could let him sleep. I could let the moment pass, slip away to ride out the wave of hormones and come back in a few days with nothing changed between us, maybe a little embarrassed that I’d snuck away without a word, but it was nothing we hadn’t dealt with when we were young. Here’s the thing, though...I don’t want to. I don’t want to slip away into the night, not when it feels...oh, it feels right to stay, in a way I didn’t see coming. But I never do, do I?
“Rhory?” I murmur his name, giving into the urge to trace the line of his shoulder with my lips. My heart starts to race as I follow the curve of his neck up to brush the soft of my nose against his jawline. I’ve touched him a thousand times but never like this, and it has my breath coming a little faster. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, waking him up like this. “Lionheart?”