Lucanis spent much of his life leaping across rooftops in Antiva, being a shadow that you only caught in the full light of the moon. It made sense that he took great offence to mornings and to a man who often rose with the sun.
Rook laughed, open-mouthed and carefree as Lucanis strong-armed him back into bed. Brawny legs wrapped tight around his own, “I was just going to get breakfast—”
“Yes, instead of staying here with me, how inefficient.”
This was part of their routine. Rook would wake up and Lucanis would wrestle him back to bed. Sometimes Rook would succeed in appeasing him, confuse him with their blankets and wrap him tight like a swaddled baby. He’d kiss his head and make his way downstairs to pick up a platter of toasted bread, fresh tomatoes, assorted meats, and whatever delicious spread the innkeeper put together.
Sometimes, Rook would get distracted. Lucanis would convince him to stray until the sun rose to its zenith, breaking the sky open. Today was one of those days.
Lucanis yawned and stretched. He was so often wrapped in leathers that Rook forgot how good he looked bare in the sunlight, trim lines against pale bedsheets, a dark pool of hair feathering out against his pillow.
“You are a vision,” Rook breathed, fingers tracing the hair across on Lucanis’s pec. He had let it grow out much to Rook’s secret delight, the hair soft and curling sweetly.
[...] Warm, Lucanis was always warm. Skin flushed and easy to bruise, that gorgeous fur sweeping across his arms and legs, his chest and stomach. Rook bit into him like the sweetest fruit, licked and sucked for he could not get nearly enough, soaking in the euphoria of Lucanis’s groaning. Pillowed in white sheets and sunlight he looked unearthly, tempting. Strong legs caught on Rook’s shoulders as he kissed downward, pinching the meat of Lucanis’s thighs until they blushed beneath his hands...
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