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Summary
“Indeed, we did,” Kabru murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As his anxiety faded, his chest swelled with pride and euphoria, and an almost overwhelming fondness for Laios. He studied his body with shameless adoration, idly running his index finger along his spine. Everything about Laios was so endearing, so precious, so dear to him. The short, spiky hair, the visible veins in his ears, the faint stripe of sunburn on the nape of his neck. His rounded shoulders, dusted with golden freckles, his wide, smooth, muscular back, with the subtle leftward tilt of the spine and the rolls of fat at his sides, a perfect place to put one's hands. The intricate network of faint scars of mysterious origin, only visible in certain lighting, and the light brown fuzz growing all over his body, more easily identifiable by touch than sight. The subtle curve of his hips and the firmness of his thick, toned thighs, and, last but certainly not least, his glorious derrière. Kabru couldn't help but stare at it, utterly mesmerised, and once he realised what he was doing, he abruptly averted his gaze and cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks burn.
Series
- Part 37 of Studies with wolves