By Willa Okati
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Additional resources for A-Muse-Ing
It’s barely past noon. ” Rory curled his fingers, kneading, not hard enough. ” Harper’s hips jerked of their own accord, seeking more friction. There was only so much a man could take. “We’re out of here. ” Rory stood as gracefully as a cat. Halfway up, he laughed at Harper’s bitten-back whine of protest when he lost the tantalizing pressure, and licked over Harper’s lips. A fast flicker, and he knotted his fingers in the rumpled cuff of Harper’s suit jacket. “Should we walk or fly? ” He sucked at the very tip of Harper’s tongue, his lips tasting of cardamom and cloves.
If Rory hadn’t had his face down, intently examining the surface damage to Harper’s hand, Harper thought he would have missed the small droop of Rory’s lips and the shuttering of his eyes. A snapshot of time, less than a second’s worth, as bittersweet as burned almonds. “Rory, I didn’t mean --” “Yeah, you did. No sweat, Cap’n . ” “Iodine, yes or no? Eh, it’s probablytoo old. Shame. Good old alcohol wipes do just as well. ” Harper let it go, and did his best not to flinch or pull away from the invasive sting of alcohol-soaked swabs and the off-key melody of Rory’s humming.
Rory was mussed, dark smudges already forming on his throat, marks no one in their right minds could mistake for anything but love bites. Harper would bet half a week’s pay that if he had a mirror to look in, he’d see he appeared no less fucked-out. The close call made his overheated blood run cold again. Lesson learned. ” Lisa clapped her hands. “Seriously, snap out of it. ” Rory sniggered. “Burn the joint,” he said under his breath. He coughed. “Sorry. ” “After you,” Harper hedged, waving Lisa out.
A-Muse-Ing by Willa Okati