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An expanse of sand lays before the ranger’s feet. Cacti sprout beside curious sandstone formations, gnarled thistles tumble through the dust, and bright pink Henna Berries provide sparse pops of color for miles. Pyramids pierce the sky in the distance, the Mausoleum of King Deshret towering over all others, its inverted twin casting a giant shadow over the dunes.
If only that shadow managed to reach Tighnari.
Sticky, overwhelmed, and miserable, the fox trudges through too dense sands under the bright, blazing sun. Boots kick up grain and salt, and wind carries dust to smother his fur. Sash and trinkets have long been discarded, bundled up and shoved next to his hoodie in the shoulder bag slung across his torso. A finger pries at the skin tight collar of his turtleneck, releasing the heat trapped underneath. He would pull off his gloves too to reduce the sweat clinging to his palms and arms, but the protection from the sun it provides is too beneficial. He would be in a world of pain should he let himself be sunburnt.
Wiping the sweat off his brow, he swallows dryly, the desert air leaving him parched. Lidded eyes stare blankly at the sand below him, legs moving on autopilot towards the sound of Cyno’s feet padding through the sand— which he did not notice had stopped until he bumped into the matra, stumbling back in mute surprise. Cyno’s hands wrap around Tighnari’s biceps, steadying him. Jasper pools lift dazedly to concerned reds. His body sways.
“Hm? Cyno?” Tighnari looks around slowly, wondering if they had finally arrived at one of the pyramids they’ve meant to investigate, but there is nothing but sand. Sand, sand, sand— flowing into the distant mirage. “Why’d we stop?” Cyno’s eyes grow sharper when Tighnari can barely manage to crowd his brows to display his confusion.
“You look tired, Nari. You should rest.” He asks gently, a finger brushing under Tighnari’s limp bangs to move them out of the way, then cups his cheek. The ranger may be disheveled and sweaty right now, but he is beautiful nonetheless. Though he would rather have that beauty without the suffering.
“Rest? We can’t rest here. There’s no shade . . . I mean, we can , but . . .” Tighnari’s head grows heavy in Cyno’s hand, eyelids drooping. “It would be uncomfortable in th’ sun. Mm.”
Cyno lifts Tighnari’s head back up. “Padisarah?” Green peeks under long lashes.
“M’ okay. I jus’ . . . need some water. You still have water, right?” His words are dripping with lethargy, the signature crisp, pronounced voice left behind in the dunes. Cyno nods, only allowing one hand to leave Tighnari’s figure as he pulls his water canteen from his own satchel, uncapping it for his partner and helping him drink. Tighnari weakly holds the canteen to his lips, and Cyno has a hand over his, helping him tip it back. Color slowly returns to Tighnari’s cheeks as he gulps the cool liquid down.
“Slowly. There’s plenty left.” Cyno monitors, making sure Tighnari drinks enough to sustain him. The General doesn’t mind, even if Tighnari drains the canteen and leaves none for Cyno. He’s used to the heat and the long journeys. Being a little dehydrated won’t encumber him by any means.
Tighnari finally lowers the canteen, a sigh of relief leaving him as coolness rushes through his body. Cyno plugs the bottle and stuffs it away.
“Do you feel better?” Tighnari’s nod is still heavy. Cyno turns and crouches down, arms curved behind him. “There’s an oasis not too far from here. I’ll carry you to it, and we’ll take a break there.” Tighnari lingers a moment, lips pressing together as if to protest. Then his shoulders relax, giving in to the generous offer. He trudges forward, straddling Cyno’s hips as he bends down and wraps his arms snugly around the matra’s neck. Cyno’s hands grip under Tighnari’s thighs, balancing his weight as he stands. Tighnari buries his face in Cyno’s shoulder, shielding his eyes from the sun’s reflection on the sands.
Shifting sands and the light jingle of pouch components accompany the pair to the oasis. The simmering heat dancing along Cyno’s skin subsides as he steps into the shadow of a crag. Half-bare feet brush against grass and sparse dirt patches until he settles below hugging palms, his bag hitting the ground. He crouches, hands moving as far back as possible to lower Tighnari to the floor as carefully as possible. Once Tighnari had been safely propped up against the palms, Cyno removes the large satchel from his shoulder, and places the back of his hand to the fox’s forehead. It’s a good thing he carried Tighnari, he thinks. The ranger had passed out in his arms not moments after mounting Cyno. He must have been too tired. Next time, if Tighnari wanted to go to the desert again after this, Cyno would make sure they traveled at night.
He removes Tighnari’s hoodie and gently pulls off his shoes, freeing as much of his body as possible from the heat trapped beneath. Cyno takes out a bundle from his pack, unwrapping two pita pockets and setting them on the flat side of their luggage to not dirty them. He briefly retreats to the cool pond to soak the cloth.
A cold wetness pats Tighnari’s forehead and cheeks, drops of water sliding down his neck and soaking into his collar. Slow swipes down his arms sap away the heat as he comes to. Cyno kneels over him, rubies attentive to the areas being cleansed of heatstroke.
“Do you feel better?” inquires Cyno, never looking to Tighnari, but instead following the steady drag of the cloth down Tighnari’s leg, from where the pants had been rolled up to his thigh, down to the midfoot. Gathering his senses, Tighnari nods, putting a hand to his head.
“Mm. It’s still too hot, but it’s definitely better than before.” Once again, Tighnari slips a finger under his collar, pulling it away from his neck. Cyno puts Tighnari’s leg down, pulling the bottom of his turtleneck from the ranger’s pants. Tighnari’s eyes go wide and ears startle upright as his stomach is exposed, pulling his shirt back down.
“What are you doing?!”
“The chest is one of the most temperature-sensitive areas of the body. It should be wiped down too.” Cyno’s expression reflects no shame, and Tighnari supposes he understands Cyno’s reasoning. This is simply how he planned to help Tighnari overcome overheating, and it isn’t as if they had never seen each other shirtless before. There’s no reason to be so shy. Cyno is only helping.
Long ears relax, and Tighnari lets go of the sleek fabric, complying as Cyno helps him remove his shirt. He refolds the cloth, reaching out to Tighnari’s collarbone.
“I can do it myself,” Tighnari offers quietly, eyeing the movement, but Cyno doesn’t even pause as he wipes a thick stripe down the center of Tighnari’s chest.
“Rest” is all Cyno commands, and Tighnari doesn’t find it in himself to press further. Both eyes follow Cyno’s hand as he administers to Tighnari in silence.
Each glide down his body is invigorating, as if his skin itself had become a refreshing spring whose waters seeped deep into muscle and bone. Patient breaths make his body rise like slack tide, the cloth riding the ridges of his ribcage leaving the skin beneath glistening as it passes over. It always ends with a soft grazing of Tighnari’s iliac furrows, just enough to leave a lingering coolness that teases his beltline. Tighnari feels heat return to his cheeks the longer he watches, mind racing with erratic thoughts. He had never been so intimate with Cyno, not even in their most flirtatious of moments. There is, of course, an invisible barrier that neither dared to cross, even if their hearts longed for one another ( Kaveh had made Cyno’s affection painfully clear to Tighnari one night, listing everything the General had ever done for the ranger as if he was a journalist reporting on their love life— though that effectively killed any surprise of Cyno declaring it himself. ) Ah, but he shouldn’t be focusing on this. Cyno is only trying to help. It would be inappropriate of Tighnari to twist this innocent act into something unsavory. A more pressing concern is his heartbeat. Will Cyno notice the slight anxiety in his breaths? Can he feel his heartbeat through the thin textile?
“Are you blushing?”
Cyno asks so suddenly it jolts Tighnari, jaspers ripping away from Cyno’s hand as he twists his neck to look east across the dunes, searching for a mirage or a tumbleweed to distract himself with.
“Blushing?” he scoffs, face growing hotter in embarrassment. “I’m not blushing. No. I, I just didn’t apply enough sandalwood oil to my face. Sunburnt, that's all.” Cyno’s hand shifts to press his knuckles to Tighnari’s cheek.
“That’s funny. Does it not hurt?” Tighnari glances even farther away, tilting his head down so his hair veils his face.
“Ah, no, it doesn’t. Must be a light one. Lucky me.”
“Nari, your heart is racing.”
Cyno is much closer now, whispering in Tighnari’s ear. So he did feel it! And still he dared to get so close. What a tease!
Tighnari feels as if he shrinks against the palm trees, shyly looking upwards— and what else is he met with but the fiery gaze of the General Mahamatra just inches away.
Too close!
Hands press against Cyno’s chest, pushing him away with minimal force. “Why are you so close? I’m just a little tired from walking so much. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take a quick nap.” He sits up, grabbing his discarded shirt and hastily pulling it back over his head. Immediately he grabs his pack and rolls on his side, using his bundled clothes as a pillow. “Wake me up when you’re ready to go.”
There is no point in the statement, as the matra is ready to continue. Cyno stares at Tighnari’s back, a twitch of amusement on his lips as the other had clearly avoided confronting him. Still, it is cute, the way Tighnari tiptoes around the topic of their romance. Not that Cyno minds. He’ll dance along with Tighnari far after the music has stopped, until he finally dips Tighnari back and they each go in for the kiss. He can wait. Wait forever ( but he doesn’t plan to ).
He leans down, a hand balancing atop Tighnari’s hip, causing his tail to twitch— a clear signifier that the fox was not asleep in the slightest, and is probably staring stupefied at the grass. “Rest well, Padisarah,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to viridescent locks before departing to prepare for the next leg of their journey, leaving Tighnari blushing into his hands.