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The Warrior of Light is not one versed in physical touch. At least, when it comes to intimacy he is not. He enjoys the heated contact that comes with combat, and the closeness that comes with the thrill of a fight. but in private moments he is secluded, flinching away from even the friendliest touches upon his shoulder.
So as he is perched upon the Garlean Prince, he wonders, what makes this so different? Zenos’s only contact with the viera is a firm hand at his hip, the dig of his fingers almost painful. That feels familiar; the pain that comes with another’s touch. It's as comforting as it is exhilarating. Quetz feels that this happens often— these lulls of time between their fights, getting lost despite the blood to remind them of their purpose. This, this, is what was unfamiliar. His draw towards the other, his desire to reach out and touch despite there is no fight to be had. He doesn’t know what intimacy feels like, or how one acts in those quiet moments behind locked doors. As he stares into the unwavering blue shadowed by heavy eyelashes, he wonders if Zenos is just as unfamiliar with this. does time feel just as frozen, is his breath caught in his chest, are his eyes unblinking because they’re afraid of missing what might happen next? I don't understand this, he thinks.
“What is there to understand?” Or perhaps he spoke, since Zenos responded. Quetz should’ve startled, or be embarrassed to the point of abrasiveness. But he didn’t feel the need to do either. What did the Garlean Prince turn him into?
“You.” The word was simple, but the meaning was deep and unknown. Not even Quetz himself could figure it out. Zenos laughed, gravelly and somehow warm. His own hands ached for touch, but he was unsure how. Aside from their presence it was silent, and the sun was bidding its farewell at the horizon. Beneath them was grass and dirt, and Zenos leaned his back against the cool rock behind him. Quetz stayed in his place, one knee between Zenos’s legs and the other propped up beside them in a kneel.
“Then you are free to search for an understanding,” and he laid, waiting for something unsaid. Maybe it was the fact that Zenos was so vague, or the thought that he might be as ignorant to intimacy as he is, but it makes him do things he would never think to do.
Quetz rested one hand on his chest, and brought the other to his face. He touched with just his fingertips, grazing along the lines of his jaw. Zenos watched Quetz’s eyes as they wandered, unblinking. Quetz pressed firmer, bringing a thumb to the plumpness of his mouth. He wiped away the blood there, and in doing so flashed the white teeth hiding behind lips. Curious, Quetz does it again, pulling his bottom lip down and running a finger across enamel. Still Zenos sat, unmoving. Was what he was doing correct, then? He wondered.
Quetz pulled at Zenos’s lips, exploring all of his teeth, some bloodied from their squabble. Zenos opened his jaw once he thought Quetz had seen all of them, and allowed him in further. Quetz stuck his thumb inside, running across molars and canines, pressing on a plush tongue. Zenos looked like a snake ready to bite, jaws wide and drooling. Yet he stayed put, and for some reason Quetz showed no fear.
The Warrior of Light dragged his fingers up to his nose, tracing the bridge of it, engraving the curve in his memory. He grabbed Zenos’s cheeks to turn his head, examining his profile. From his nose, Quetz made his way to his eyes, running his fingers over the ridge of his brow bone, and the line of his thick lashes. Zenos’s eyes fluttered shut, only daring to open when Quetz was finished. And when they did Zenos’s gaze followed the other’s, watching, perhaps looking for a trace of silent approval.
“You are also a strange one… I, too, do not understand you.” Zenos drawls, no venom in his voice. Quetz’s hand halts, palm against his cheek and thumb resting in the dark shadow beneath his eye. “I am your enemy, am I not? Yet here you are...”
Quetz’s brows furrow, his lips pulling into a frown. “And you’re the one letting me. You shouldn’t be talking, Prince.” He spat, ready to settle back into his usual defensive nature.
“And still so eager to bite!” Zenos tilts his head slightly, leaning into the hand that rests against it. “You are not afraid, was my observation. You see no threat. I find myself curious.”
That made the viera silent. In that moment, he didn’t understand himself. What explanation could he provide for this? Zenos had every opportunity to bite down, to grab his throat while he was wandering, and kill him then and there. But still he sat on Zenos’s thigh, hand on the other’s cheek.
The wind blew through the leaves and through the grass. it was just the two of them. Could this be what intimacy felt like?
Quetz removed his hands from Zenos and hung them at his sides. He let go of himself, and did not think before the invitation came from his lips.
“Figure it out yourself, then.”
If Zenos was surprised, he didn’t show it on his face. He did hesitate though, as Quetz sat on his thigh, head turned and unwilling to meet his gaze. Finally he sat upright, hands much bigger than the Warrior’s come up to rest on his cheeks, lifting up his face so he could see it clearly. Their eyes met, and then Quetz was the one desiring comfort in the form of an approving eye.
Zenos, for all his patience while Quetz’s hands wandered, was much more eager in his search. He slid hands into tangled hair, and let his fingers run over the fluff of his ears. Touches firm and gentle, all sending chills down his spine. Quetz has never been touched like this, he never let anyone touch him like this, and he couldn’t tell if it was comfort keeping him in place, or fear.
The Prince’s hands wandered down the front of Quetz, feeling the muscle and bone of his chest under fabric. He wondered if Zenos could feel his heart rate pick up, if he would sense the fear beneath his fingers and turn it against him. However Zenos stayed silent, his hands moving with the same amount of curiosity. He let out the breath he was holding in, realizing that he was feeling the same thrill that he felt when faced with combat.
Zenos wandered lower, both of his hands easily circling his waist. Quetz’s midriff was bare in the gear he wore, and Zenos ran his thumbs against the tufts of hair that grew beneath his navel and down into the waistband of his pants. Quetz’s ears pressed flat against his head, his face burning hot.
“Watch it—“
“Silence.”
Quetz clicked his tongue, and Zenos moved on, traveling to the viera's thighs. His fingers nudged into the meat under skin and fabric pulled taut. His wandering touch slithered underneath and pulled him closer by his legs, leaning forward so there was naught between them. Quetz’s breath caught in his throat, his hands rushing between them and now trapped between his own chest and the swell of Zenos’s. The Garlean lowered his head, burrowing his face against Quetz’s neck. He could feel fingers crawl up his back, feeling every ridge of his spine on its way. He could feel Zenos’s breath against his skin, his own heart beating painfully in his ribs. It was a moment of nothing but breathing, of Zenos seemingly taking in everything that was the Warrior of Light. Until Quetz felt a wet heat, and Zenos pressed his tongue against the vein in his neck. He followed it upwards, licking all the way to the bone of his jaw, where he enclosed his lips in what can only be described as a kiss.
“You’re disgusting…” Quetz didn’t realize he was panting until he gave voice to his thoughts. How pathetic he must’ve seemed.
“You are strong, Warrior. If you truly believed me to be disgusting, surely more blood would have been shed by now.” Zenos taunted against his jaw, and lifted his head back to meet his eye. Quetz scowled, annoyed at how he had such similar thoughts about him earlier. Annoyed at how much he let the other get away with, while not even knowing why.
“I desire to know all that you are, Warrior of Light. But under the watch of the moon is no place for a search such as this.” Zenos unravels himself from the viera, touching him once more to shove him off of his lap. Quetz sits on the grass, watching Zenos rise to his feet. day gives way to night, and what's left of the orange sky envelopes the Garlean above him. “I will have you next we meet. In hopes that we may find some manner of… understanding.”
Quetz’s body burns with sensations unfamiliar. Every touch of fingers and trace of breath lingers, and he watches Zenos leave quicker than the stars can be ushered into the sky. He does not know if he yet understands the meaning of intimacy, or Zenos Yae Galvus.