He didn't understand what was happening between them, or how Rory could soothe his fears and send his heart racing with anxiety all at once. Having someone lean into his fragile strength, trusting him in that simple, dangerous way, should have sent him running, fleeing the farm and its enchanting master with all due courtesy - but fleeing all the same. He hadn't thought his heart could bear the weight of another's touch again, not so deeply, but Rory had reached so slowly through the defenses, the armor, the deflections, the secrets, that he had slipped right by them before the fox had realized what was happening.
And the press of his hand wasn't a weight after all. Gentle fingers soothed the jagged cracks in Jigano's heart, much as they had run through moonlit fur, strong and sweet and offering support and quiet comfort. Holding him now was like holding sunlight made flesh, something that should have been impossible but was warm and soft and bright in a way that pushed back the shadows that the bard had spent far too long being ruled by.
He wouldn't have minded, he thought idly, if they could have stayed that way forever. If they could have slowed time to a trickle, one in which he offered Rory his own warmth and strength, and drank in the hunter's acceptance and support. The fire crackled cheerfully behind them and Isuma purred in Rory's hands, entirely approving of how Jigano's self-conscious tension eased at the blond man's desire to keep him close. Even as quiet fell between them it wasn't an empty silence; it was filled with beating hearts and the gentle warmth of breathing. Birds called outside, merry and bright in the flush of Flowerbirth, and after a little while of memorizing the feel of Rory's body against his, the way he fit against Jigano's shoulder, and the warmth that grew between them as the other man soaked up the heat from the fire and the bodies of his companions, Jigano finally drew a deeper breath and spoke again. He kept his voice quiet, hesitant to disturb the silence. "Will you teach me?" he asked. "The songs you sing for Fiat Lux... or the songs you like best? They don't have to be Flowerbirth songs," he amended, not noticing in the moment how his voice had softened with shyness. "Any songs you like... I'd like to learn, too."
And the press of his hand wasn't a weight after all. Gentle fingers soothed the jagged cracks in Jigano's heart, much as they had run through moonlit fur, strong and sweet and offering support and quiet comfort. Holding him now was like holding sunlight made flesh, something that should have been impossible but was warm and soft and bright in a way that pushed back the shadows that the bard had spent far too long being ruled by.
He wouldn't have minded, he thought idly, if they could have stayed that way forever. If they could have slowed time to a trickle, one in which he offered Rory his own warmth and strength, and drank in the hunter's acceptance and support. The fire crackled cheerfully behind them and Isuma purred in Rory's hands, entirely approving of how Jigano's self-conscious tension eased at the blond man's desire to keep him close. Even as quiet fell between them it wasn't an empty silence; it was filled with beating hearts and the gentle warmth of breathing. Birds called outside, merry and bright in the flush of Flowerbirth, and after a little while of memorizing the feel of Rory's body against his, the way he fit against Jigano's shoulder, and the warmth that grew between them as the other man soaked up the heat from the fire and the bodies of his companions, Jigano finally drew a deeper breath and spoke again. He kept his voice quiet, hesitant to disturb the silence. "Will you teach me?" he asked. "The songs you sing for Fiat Lux... or the songs you like best? They don't have to be Flowerbirth songs," he amended, not noticing in the moment how his voice had softened with shyness. "Any songs you like... I'd like to learn, too."
