Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
They are stretched out beneath a tree in the far part of the temple garden, Chirrut’s outer robe under them and Baze’s over them because even in the summer Jedha is chill and the ground is packed clay that seems to hold the cold close against itself. Chirrut is humming tunelessly, mindlessly, as though he always needs to be doing something, and his hand has managed to slip under the layers that Baze still wears to find his skin, trace words and runes and designs there, each idle caress something that Baze would happily dissolve into. The touches are light: a breath of wind, a beam of light, a feather, the brush of flower petals, a silk scarf, but they make Baze burn and shift slightly anyway, each one reminding him that he is a creature of bone and blood and skin and desire, that Chirrut is the same, that they are drawn together by something he cannot quite explain except in poetry, which displeases him because those words always seem nebulous, never concrete and exact enough.