all this love I've got to keep to myself

From somewhere over his shoulder, a breathy whisper from a distinctly masculine tone. His name, uttered like a prayer. He'd heard his name spoken this way before, but he'd never cared to hear it. Tonight? Tonight he craved that sound. He turned slowly, sea foam gaze cast over his shoulder and landing on the moonlit facade of the pallid wolfdog. A soft, rueful smile. "Mojito," he murmured, tension bleeding from his lithe form with each twitch of his muscles that brought him closer to the man. "you fought for me." the words tumbled free carelessly, the reality of their situation still new and exciting. Another cautious step closer, and the macaque took to the canopy to keep an eye out for pursuers. Then another step, and he could smell the taint of blood on Mojito's skin. All this mess, and for who? For a beaten and broken whore. ".. Why?" the wraith asked, sloughing his weapon with a casual roll of his shoulders. It struck the ground with a muffled clank that hardly disturbed even the birds above them.

They were almost nose to nose, closer than either man had been to one another in.. months. Perhaps even years. Trapped by his servitude, and Mojito free to roam as he pleased in the wide world, how long had it been since they'd stumbled upon one another? That strange carnival, perhaps. To smell the fresh stink of sweat and blood on the demure male, and see the way the moonlight filtered through the canopy to dapple his alabaster fur.. it was surreal. He'd been so good in the past, stifled his urges and instincts to allow Mojito to make the first move each time they met. Tonight he couldn't help himself. A half step forward to push their bodies together, nose to nose and then cheek to cheek. Nao drank in the sensation of the man's fur mingling with his own, the shallow breaths that brushed against the nape of his neck... when would he get to be this close to Mojito again? Inky foreleg lifted from the cool ground, oh so achingly slow, and slender digits curled forth in search of another point of contact. He wanted- he craved touch. Physicality. He found the warmth of Mojito's own foreleg, and wrapped his wrist around it, pulling himself as close as he could. Desperation bleeding through as he whined softly. It had been so very long since anyone had touched him..

""