Silk, Tea, Moss (Masc Loche)
The dead leaves and brush crunch loudly under your feet, while Loche seems to move like a shadow. Even in human form, he’s still like the leopard beast inside: moving as if he’s always hunting something.
You nearly jump as his fingertips gently brush your hand. You look up to him as you place your hand in his, smiling. He returns it, those deep blue eyes roaming your face the entire time. You lightly squeeze his hand, his scarred skin rough against yours. That describes all of him, really: he has so many edges, so much roughness to him, from his skin to his personality. Where silk is soft and gives easily, he’s harsh and like a great stone.
With everyone but you. Even sometimes with the team those edges he has will leave cuts… but never with you.
“What are you thinking of?” He asks softly, his voice barely more than a rumble.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Mhmm.” You run your thumb along his, and you swear you can hear him start to purr.
“What about me, love?”
“Just… you. You as a person.” You can’t suppress a small laugh at the confusion on his face. “You have figured out I like you by now, right? Like, I was sure us dating would’ve made that clear, but in case it did not-”
“I am well-aware that you do,” he interrupts, shaking his head. It’s then you realize his hair has grown out some; when you first met, it was practically sheared to the scalp, and now it’s grown to a little past his ears. “I am simply curious as to what that has to do with me as a person.”
“I like you? So… I like to think about you?” You can’t keep the teasing note out of your voice, even as his smile turns to a less than amused frown. “Hmm, maybe something’s getting lost in translation here.”
“I will… ask Fawn about it later.”
“Probably a good choice.” You notice a small pond to the left, surrounded in an almost pillow-y looking moss, blanketing the entire bank. “C’mon, over here.”
You gently tug him hand towards the pond and he comes easily, his fingers tightening around yours. Your heart beats a little too fast at that; he always does that. As if he’s afraid your hand will slip out of his.
You carefully traverse the moss, trying to not damage it. You see him do the same out of the corner of your eye. As you take a seat on a particularly dense patch of moss, you watch him move a small frog out of the way so he can sit next to you. He still has your hand clutched in his, and when he’s fully seated, he pulls your conjoined hands into his lap and oh so carefully wraps his other hand around the back of yours.
“It’s pretty here,” you murmur, trying to take your attention from how his fingers are making little circles on the pulse point in your wrist.
“Yes. Your nature in this world is beautiful. I like all the little mosses and afribians.”
“Er. Amphibians? The frogs?”
“Ah. Yes. Amphibians.” He smiles as he puts the toe of his boot into the edge of the pond and it is immediately surrounded by a horde of tadpoles. “We don’t really have small, soft creatures there. They don’t… survive in the Wilds. If there are any, they’re probably kept as pets by the Lords or Ladies.”
You don’t miss the bitter tone in his voice. “That’s unfortunate. Is that why you spend so much time in the woods and stuff when we’re on assignment? To look at the nature we have?”
“Yes… it’s all very… Pretty.” He makes a face. “Well. Aside from those little creatures with the masked faces. They tend to steal anything I have with me if I don’t keep a constant eye on it.”
“Ah. Raccoons. It’s okay, I think most people have been burgled by them at least once or twice. They love garbage. And pet food.”
“I do not see why. It is not particularly tasteful.”
You slowly turn to look at him. “The garbage or the pet food?”
His neck darkens, holding a hue of red instead of the usual deep tawny color. “I wouldn’t eat garbage! But… agh… the cats insisted the food tasted okay so I tried one of the little pieces. I believe they were trying to play a trick on me.”
It takes all of your willpower to not laugh. “I didn’t know you could speak to animals.”
“Not animals. Just cats and things like them, I think? Either way, the cats lied. It was horrible.” He shudders, as if remembering the flavor right then. You have to bite down hard on your lip to keep your composure.
“Mhmm. I see.” You pull the thermos out from your bag and take a sip of the tea inside. “Are you thirsty?”
“No, I’m alright. Thank you.”
You nod and put it back away. You run your fingers over the mossy bed under you, enjoying the way it softly springs up under your fingers.
Well, until you feel his fingertips gently ghost over your forearm, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. You turn to him just as his fingers make their way up your arm and to under your chin. It nearly takes your breath when you find him close.
So, so very close. You can see the slight elongating of his pupils as his eyes roam your face, you can feel his warm breath on your lips. So close.
You bring your free hand up and gently push a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes flutter, but stay open. Gazing into yours.
Yours close the moment he leans in further and his lips meet yours. They’re warm and soft. You can feel the scar that cuts through his top lip against yours, a single point of roughness in his kiss. You push your fingers into his hair, holding him as close as you can as he deepens the kiss, his tongue just as gentle as the way he holds you.
You can’t think of anything except him.
