Jaryd reached up with his free hand to run the back of his finger along Jaren’s jaw, his gaze following the movement before tracing his lover’s lips, then sliding back up to meet pale eyes once more. “You do yourself a disservice, my love,” he said, his voice loud enough to be heard, yet somehow also a heated purr of appreciation for the man who sat beside him. “Don't get me wrong- you are stunning no matter what you wear. However...should you ever change your mind about the ease of wearing black, well...”
His voice lowered even further as he spoke, ending in a smoky rumble that matched the heat in his eyes. His fingers slid from the other man’s jaw to his collar and hooked into the fabric there, pulling him closer until their lips could meet. After the initial rush of heat and fierce joy at the caress, Jaryd took his time in giving his lover a preview of the many ways he might respond to such a decision.
At first he was oblivious to their surroundings. Then a throat cleared twice, a little too close to be another patron. Jaren pulled away and the idyll broke into the mayhem of a busy common room once more. The Altaran turned his eyes upward to find Mari had returned with two mugs of amber liquid in one fist and a wooden platter of bread, cheese, grapes, and sliced meats in the other. As she watched them, the innkeeper lifted one eyebrow without saying a word.
Jaryd promptly had a split second argument with himself, embarrassment warring with the fuzzy feeling in his chest. In the end, the warmth won out by a long shot. The Red gave Mari a wide, easy grin, like a cat caught with cream on its whiskers, and reached for the platter with one hand. The other remained firmly entwined with Jaren's. “This looks good,” he said cheerfully as he moved the food to the table. Jaren had taken the drinks; Jaryd sniffed at his curiously and found the familiar, bitter scent of hops and wheat. “Thank you,” he added in chorus with his partner.
“Just give a shout when you want more, boys,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll be about.”
Jaryd turned to Jaren with a smile, already reaching for a hunk of bread. “Mari’s something else, isn’t she?” He asked. “The first time I came in here she told me off for tracking mud on the floor her maid had just swept. Then she hauled me in the back to get the broom. When she found out she’d just made an Asha’man sweep her floor she said the Tower should include better manners in its curriculum, and that was that.”
The Red’s lips twitched as he piled cheese atop the bread in his hand. “So. Worth being abducted from the Tower so far?” He asked playfully.
His voice lowered even further as he spoke, ending in a smoky rumble that matched the heat in his eyes. His fingers slid from the other man’s jaw to his collar and hooked into the fabric there, pulling him closer until their lips could meet. After the initial rush of heat and fierce joy at the caress, Jaryd took his time in giving his lover a preview of the many ways he might respond to such a decision.
At first he was oblivious to their surroundings. Then a throat cleared twice, a little too close to be another patron. Jaren pulled away and the idyll broke into the mayhem of a busy common room once more. The Altaran turned his eyes upward to find Mari had returned with two mugs of amber liquid in one fist and a wooden platter of bread, cheese, grapes, and sliced meats in the other. As she watched them, the innkeeper lifted one eyebrow without saying a word.
Jaryd promptly had a split second argument with himself, embarrassment warring with the fuzzy feeling in his chest. In the end, the warmth won out by a long shot. The Red gave Mari a wide, easy grin, like a cat caught with cream on its whiskers, and reached for the platter with one hand. The other remained firmly entwined with Jaren's. “This looks good,” he said cheerfully as he moved the food to the table. Jaren had taken the drinks; Jaryd sniffed at his curiously and found the familiar, bitter scent of hops and wheat. “Thank you,” he added in chorus with his partner.
“Just give a shout when you want more, boys,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll be about.”
Jaryd turned to Jaren with a smile, already reaching for a hunk of bread. “Mari’s something else, isn’t she?” He asked. “The first time I came in here she told me off for tracking mud on the floor her maid had just swept. Then she hauled me in the back to get the broom. When she found out she’d just made an Asha’man sweep her floor she said the Tower should include better manners in its curriculum, and that was that.”
The Red’s lips twitched as he piled cheese atop the bread in his hand. “So. Worth being abducted from the Tower so far?” He asked playfully.