Prompt from @sezja š Touches prompts (always accepting)
It was morning in Tuliyollal, and as with most days in the shoreline city, sunlight bathed the docks, soaking eagerly into the bleached decking. Moro'a shielded himself from the worst of the growing heat behind a stack of fruit-laden crates, holding a hand to his mouth as he suppressed a yawn. On days like this, he almost regretted having such a nice bed ā he'd finally gotten used to filling the once-empty space beside him, only to toss and turn for hours last night, betrayed by anticipation and nocturnal body clock both. Come morning, the soft sheets had very nearly lulled him back to sleep.
Wiping his eyes, he pushed past the weariness, watching as deckhands and other workers hurried along the piers. The order of business here was closer to chaos than organisation; no assessors hawkishly scanning the crowds or inspecting goods for contraband. But it was a familiar atmosphere nevertheless, a buffer against the impatient buzz that was steadily growing in Moro'a's chest with each passing minute. He tapped his foot as he studied the endless waters, hoping he'd spot a Lominsan ship among them.
"Moro'a! Is that you?" A familiar voice called out, and he turned to see Mablu jogging towards him while she waved, pink as the clouds above them. "Vow Wuk Lamat did mention you were joining Tankwa's expeditionā¦but the Eorzean crew isn't due to arrive for another two weeks, no?"
"Different ship," he answered, waving back. The young woman's eyes widened in understanding.
"Oh! The sky sailor returns? Leo, I mean. Sorry, his name remainsā¦difficult to say in our tongue." Moro'a smiled and shook his head. Mablu wasn't the only one by far, and Leofard had long since taken it in stride. Besides, 'Leo' doesn't sound half bad, eh?
Three moons. It was the longest they had gone without seeing each other, since ā well, a long time, it seemed, longer than the time they'd spent avoiding one another after his confession. Since Old Sharlayan, they'd never spent more than a few days apart, journeying through new lands and each new adventure at each other's sides.
And when the time came, he'd had no qualms letting Leofard go home. It was all too clear he missed the Parrock and his crew; they were his home and family, even if he wasn't the kind to spell it plain. And though he'd stayed behind of his own volition, Moro'a suspected the aftermath of Alexandria's attack on Tuliyollal and what they'd seen in Heritage Found had only exacerbated those feelings. He'd promised Leofard space, and he'd upheld it as best as he could, staving off the desire to go with him.
Experience had done little to innoculate him against the quiet agony of separation, however, only serving to remind him that it was an inevitable part of the process. Wherever he'd gone, he'd done so feeling like he'd left behind a part of himself, waiting for a supportive touch or a witty remark that didn't come.
Moro'a shook his head again. Thirty-two years old, and he was being a lovesick fool. Leofard would tease him for it, he was certain.
He chatted with Mablu as the minutes crawled by. Try as he might, he was hopelessly distracted; glancing at the waters, at the other side of the docks, for any sign at all. How much longer?
"Over there!" Mablu exclaimed suddenly. Following the point of her finger, Moro'a saw it: a proud ship cutting through the water with ease. Though it was still far away, the shape of it was unmistakable. "I should go ā someone has to tell Lamaty'i!" Mablu clapped her hands to her mouth, royal courtesies forgotten in the midst of her excitement, but Moro'a paid her no mind, taking off with a quick goodbye of his own as he made for Wachumeqimeqi, where the ship would soon be welcomed.
The buzz in Moro'a's chest swelled into a flurry. The ship was getting closer, and the sight of the foreign craft was still novel enough that several workers stopped what they were doing to stare, while others hurried towards the dock where it would berth. Moro'a's eyes never left her. At last, it loomed near enough to the pier that he could make out the moving figures aboard, and his eyes flitted from one to the next, searching for Leofard among them. It wasn't until the ship had fully moored that he saw him appear at the bow.
A moment later, their eyes met. Unbridled longing surged through him.
There you are.
The narrow gangway forced the descending passengers into a single file, giving Moro'a more than enough time to approach. Leofard's footsteps didn't hasten, but he flashed Moro'a a grin as he descended the gangway. He was dressed lightly for the Turali heat, in a red and white floral shirt that was conspicuously unbuttoned at the collar; Moro'a felt his mouth dry in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. He'd traded his goggles for red-tinted shades, and a large knapsack hung from his shoulders. He looked perfectly at leisure. In contrast, Moro'a's heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.
"Hi," he said, smiling casually.
"Hey," Leofard greeted him back. He reached out, and for a moment Moro'a thought he might lean in for a kiss, only for his arm to sling around his shoulders instead. "Missed me, cherĆ?"
They'd both agreed to avoid anything overly conspicuous in public, but a part of Moro'a had nonetheless hoped for something after their long absence. A subtle squeeze of the arm perhaps. "I'll let you decide," he passed off, trying to hide the mild disappointment as it fizzled inside him. He was being ridiculous. "Do you want a drink?" he asked, eager to change topics. A few of the shops would already be open for business.
"I'd rather we stop by yours, first," Leofard said. His knapsack rose and fell as he shrugged his shoulders. "Lugging this around for too long can't be good for these old bones."
"You aren't even forty," Moro'a muttered.
"The years pass by faster than you think, sonny boy," he retorted with a grin.
The sound of Leofard's voice soothed Moro'a's initial discontent somewhat, as he caught him up on what the Redbills had been up to during their absence ā Stacia had taken on the role of acting captain with surpassing flair, to no one's surprise, and their dealings with Tataru's boutique and various other ventures were paying off nicely. "It's like they don't even need me," Leofard sighed in mock complaint as he knelt down to pick up a freshly fallen hibiscus, twirling it between his fingers.
"But they were glad to see you," said Moro'a, unable to explain the prickle of annoyance he felt at that jest.
"Aye, 'course they were."
They'd reached the cabin. "Home away from home," Moro'a announced to no one in particular as he pushed the doors open. He liked the place well enough ā the sound of the tide lapping against the stilts provided a soothing ambience, and the open platform was perfect for reading, or stargazing on clear nights. But Moro'a had a wanderer's heart, and for all that had taken place in the past three moons, he was beginning to itch for the road again after a relatively uneventful fortnight.
Leofard set his knapsack down with an audible thud as he examined their surroundings. "Everything looks about the same." Moro'a wondered if he'd imagined that odd note in his voice. He knelt down to pick up the bag, moving it onto the bench. It wasn't even that heavy.
"No reason to change things." He turned, intending to ask Leofard if he was hungry, only to be cut off as the hyur's arms wrapped around him in a solid embrace. His hair tickled at his neck, and puffs of air ghosted over his back as Leofard exhaled, comfortingly warm. Moro'a fell silent, too stunned to respond.
"Missed me, cherĆ?" Leofard asked again, this time with uncharacteristic quiet. His grip tightened, and Moro'a winced as his body smarted in several places, where the muscle was still recovering from the lightning shock Calyx had attempted to kill him with. He couldn't care less, too occupied with returning the hug now that his thoughts had caught up.
"Of course I did," he murmured. Every moment of it, he didn't say, though a part of him wished he would. He settled against Leofard's chest, closing his eyes as he rested in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. But especially this.
"Well. It's been a while." Leofard let him go long enough to kiss him, tilting his face towards him with familiar ease. His hands trailed down the Keeper's back, past his waist.
"Missed this, too." Moro'a's eyes snapped open in surprise as one hand squeezed firmly around his ass.
"You can't be serious," he laughed. "There's nothing to miss there."
Leofard ignored him in favour of squeezing him again, this time with both hands. "Every precious ilm of it."
"Hush." But Moro'a relished the affection in those words. Several kisses later, he remembered, "I meant to ask if you were hungry."
His lover's response was to steer him towards the bed. "You can take me wheresoever you please after I've made up for lost time."
