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“Anything you need?”
Tighnari didn’t even bother to turn around and face him, there was no need. He knew full well who was behind him, the sound of his footsteps being unmistakable against the patchy grass. The forest watcher decided to shoot an arrow against the core of the corruption instead; the nucleus erupted, releasing red smoke. He heard a few coughs and resumed his aim.
“I was looking for Collei but couldn’t find her anywhere.”
Tighnari stretched the bow, the arrow ready to be fired, his left eye closed to get a clean shot.
“Very odd. She should be in the village as usual,” a dry noise struck his eardrums when the iron spike slashed a new withered root, ripping it in half, “have you tried asking to Nasrin? They usually talk a lot.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t think about it. I wasted a lot of time trying to chat to the lock to open the door, just to check if she had passed out.”
“Why on earth would you chat to a–…”
“Because communication is key.”
He loosened the string and let go a resigned sigh. His right ear bent over. For the first time that afternoon, Tighnari turned his face in his direction and asked himself how Cyno managed to keep a straight face right after delivering such a lame joke.
“Something else, General Mahamatra?”
“Actually, yes,” the desert man approached him with a packet in his left hand, his usual spear in the right one. “I bought you something.”
“Oh.”
This, he didn’t expect. Cyno wasn’t a guy of many words, nor many presents: his birthday would be three months later, and there was no other strange occasion that could induce him to give him gifts.
“Is it the prize I deserve for being the test subject behind all your questionable puns?”
The Mahamatra kept his mouth shut. Tighnari laid aside his bow and arrows to carefully take it in his hands.
The envelop was smooth and square, neither too big nor too small. He felt its weight, while unwrapping the gift; not a great clue, especially since the said giver was Cyno: it could have been anything, and that was precisely why he decided not to expect a great gift but one of those desert scarabs jumping out of the container, mud ball attached. Not funny at all.
He glanced at him, proceeding to discard its wrapping paper. The general didn’t blink, his usual stoic expression still focused on him, his now free hand on one hip.
The forest watcher opened the box, with utmost caution. To his surprise, nothing escaped from it, but on the contrary a new package had been revealed, alongside a-…
“A desert rose crystal!” He couldn’t contain his delight when he saw the mineral, a seed bundle right next to it as well as a note to accompany the things. His fingers grabbed it, but in the eagerness of reading what he wrote for him, Tighnari cut his digit with the paper. A thin trickle of blood ran down his palm and arm, staining his clothes.
“How come you don’t wear your usual gloves?”
“I broke them,” Tighnari said, “and I didn't have time to sew them up.”
Cyno walked up to him, the spear still firmly gripped. Both faces were closer, but not for long: with his free hand, he grasped the fennec’s one, brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the wound, sucking away the blood, licking with care near the edges. Tighnari held his breath, his eyes squinted as he felt the tip of the officer’s tongue against his naked skin. His heart began to beat wildly and a lot of interesting thoughts crossed his mind.
“What… are you doing Cyno?”
“Saliva helps heal wounds, don’t you know?”
Of course he knew. Such a trivial notion was but one of the basic things one learned throughout the course of life. What he didn’t know was why the feared and honorable General Mahamatra was literally kissing out the excess blood from his slightly injured hand, soon after gifting him one of the most precious and treasured ores existing on earth. Was it such a normal thing for him? Did he go around licking the skin of those people who had been injured on the battlefield, for the sake of being nice? No, it couldn’t be. He was aware Cyno wasn’t that way, but for some reason the fox’s blood started to boil anyway at the mere thought of it.
“It’s a technique for removing snake venom from the bodies of Matras,” Cyno finally said, “I wanted to show it to you.”
Removing snake venom by mouth? What about the possible open wounds with associated consequences? No way, that was too dangerous even for him. Tighnari didn’t buy it, although he pretended to.
“Who the heck does that without context, Cyno? You’re a weirdo,” he withdrew the “injured” hand, his finger was searing hot, his throat was very parched and his feet a little slacker against the ground, “not a good demonstration, however. You didn’t spit it out.”
“Of course not, yours wasn't real poison.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about this. People from the Akademiya say my attitude towards them is toxic, you should be careful.”
Cyno must have liked his comeback, because both corners of his mouth lifted to form a subtle, pretty smirk. When Cyno smiled, he had noticed, there was this little scar on his chin that jumped out only if his skin was stretched enough and his eyes softened as if they were coordinating with his lips. He liked when it happened. He liked it a lot.
Tighnari was about to thank him for the wonderful gift, when it occurred: one of those corrupted corollas hurled a seed at him, full speed. Cyno covered his side with his body, wrapped his left hand around the fox’s face and placed the spear’s blade in front of them. When the seed bounced against it, he straight away hurled the polearm at the last corrupt core, striking it squarely in the middle. Cyno turned to Tighnari, both faces now much closer than before. Their breaths met; the dark haired boy swallowed hard.
“You should pay more attention, Tighnari. Isn’t this your job?”
Yes. Yes, it was. It was definitely his job. He was one of the best forest watchers around, if not the best. But Tighnari found it really hard to focus on his duty when the man on whom he took a liking for months was squeezing him between his arms so tight, right after licking his index finger, their lips being just a few inches from each other and his bare chest touching his own. He would have loved to lean in for a taste.
Unfortunately, he didn’t.
“Let me take a look at the note you wrote.”
“It's not urgent. You can do it when you get home.”
His eyebrows frowned, upon hearing those words spoken. “Are you suggesting me what to do with your gift?”
“Yes, I am. Talk to me, instead.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Is it because I don't seem to be a big talker?”
That could have been the answer. It could have been. Cyno was well-known all around thanks to his very intimidating appearance. Of opportunities to speak to someone he had few and not a single person had ever stayed long except for him, that being his biggest mistake indeed.
“… You’re getting me wrong,” he stretched his hand, placing it on Cyno’s chest, and clutched the skin in the middle. He sensed Cyno’s stare upon himself, a pronounced look exchanged by both and his tempting collarbone right in front of him, half covered by the big golden jewel. It would have been nice to get his fingers on the vacant space, framed by its angular bones. Who knows how far it would have sunk. “I… don’t feel like talking, nothing more.”
“What do you feel like doing, then?”
Tighnari got answers ready, none of which including the note, but scrapped each of them. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his right foot.
“We could… play that card game you like so much… what was its name, again?”
“Genius Invokations,” Cyno curled his digits over Tighnari’s hips, eyes in his. From Cyno’s mouth escaped a breath that tickled his own lips. Tighnari’s heart skipped a beat but pretended that nothing happened.
“Right,” Cyno’s red eyes sparkled for a moment; Tighnari skin felt warmer. His words dwindled to a whisper: “Right. Genius Invokations.”
Fine. That whole thing was stupid. He was feeling stupid. Maybe he was. Because when he realized how oblivious he had been towards the man in front of him, how his tail was moving at the slightest sensation of their smells mingling and the way his hand was urging him to drop the gift to the ground and grab his face closer, he regretted not having done it earlier.
Tighnari clutched his white locks and kissed him without a second thought. Cyno's lips were warm and way softer than what he had envisioned, far different from his hair – not frizzy at all, but neither silky like it appeared. Tighnari stuck his fingers between those strands to test the texture once again.
As he anticipated, the officer welcomed him warmly. He couldn’t suppress a jolt when two hands gripped his hips with determination, the general’s fingers lunging into the rough fabric, touching his skin through the clothes. Cyno moved his lips against Tighnari’s and slipped his tongue inside. His warm body leaped forward, covering the forest watcher. One of Cyno’s hands climbed over his covered back, the fingertips trod on each vertebra, pressed every single button with care. A shiver walked up Tighnari’s spine; he exhaled a deep sigh through wet sounds. One murmur followed his suppressed breaths, as a result of Cyno playing his bones.
“Not a bad suggestion. But I don’t recommend it to you,” Cyno added, his serious look almost breaking, the tip of both noses brushing against each other, “unless you want to feel naked in front of me.”
Was it that bad to answer yes, please? Tighnari didn’t care but didn’t respond either. He choose to pull the general towards himself to kiss him again, the ferrous flavor of his own blood still on the tip of Cyno’s tongue. The Mahamatra’s chest was smeared against his; the fox could feel the pounding of his heart, totally unsynchronized compared to his rhythm, but both being so fast and uncontrolled it was almost like the same melody. He felt the need to grab his shoulders with both his palms; the package cluttering his hand was becoming very in excess for his liking.
His ears perked up, the crinkle of leaves interrupted the two for a few seconds. He took the occasion to finally speak his mind out loud.
“I know you were lying earlier, Cyno.”
Cyno’s nose stooped down to his neck, fondling Tighnari’s skin. He paused for a moment or two before starting to pepper him with damp kisses all over the jugular and whisper in between: “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Don’t play dumb, you know well,” he panted, “I’m talking about your venom removing technique. There’s no way you’re doing such to people, it’s too stupid.”
The forest watcher recognized a smile against his skin. He felt like smiling too.
“You have a point, I made it up. I did it because I figured you’d like it.”
Tighnari’s cheeks dyed faint pink. Goose bumps came to him as he perceived Cyno on his neck.
“You came up with it because I’m a fennec hybrid. Such an idiotic idea.”
The Mahamatra moved on from his neck, following a straight line towards his ear. He lingered near the gable. His voice crept into it and descended through his chest to his belly – Tighnari trembled from the tickle.
This what he said: “At least it worked.”
⚘ ⚘ ⚘
A few months ago you brought up how much you liked desert rose crystals, so here’s one. I can't understand why you love this at all, seems like an ordinary ore to me. Care to explain? I’m all ears.
Get it?
Cyno