A/N: Image drawn by the lovely and wonderful Luco. Check out her other stuff!
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Rook shivered as he sat up in bed, scrabbling in the dark for the blankets he had discarded in his restless sleep. He sighed, wishing he could simply press up against Noor, sink into his lover’s heat, which far surpassed even the desert at the peak of day.
But Noor was still out in those very sands, gone for days on an operation too brutal for all but his best soldiers. He had not permitted Rook to come along, though Rook had devised a rough strategy for them. Six days he had been gone, and Rook could only focus on diplomacy and try not to worry.
He gave up all attempts at sleeping and threw back the blankets, save for the warmest. Tugging it up around his bare shoulders, shivering at a cold that was all the more startling for being in the middle of a desert, he pushed his feet into slippers and left the dark bedchamber.
The empty, still broken halls of the palace were lit by only a few flickering, slowly dying torches; there was barely enough light by which to see. Moonlight trickled in a few of the windows, the places where the walls had not yet been repaired.
Rook pulled the blanket up more securely, silently admonishing himself for not getting properly dressed if he was going to wander about. The admonishment went ignored; he had done it before and he would do it again.
Sighing, he wandered deeper into the more broken portions of the palace. There were plans to tear much of it down and simply start fresh, but those plans were a long way off. For the foreseeable future, everyone was too busy settling the Great Desert and quelling dissidents.
He paused at a window, and slouched over on it, elbows scraping against the stone. The moon bathed the dunes beyond, making them look almost silver rather than the dull gold they were by day. The stars were sharp and bright, and he wondered if Noor would soon be following them home.
His breaths misted in the cold and he stood up to get away from the cold stone, tugging on the blanket—
And felt the presence of another a beat too late, as a familiar large, warm hand covered his eyes. He froze, surprised and delighted—but the sharp bite of teeth against his throat turned his words into a gasp. He shivered as the teeth nipped along his shoulder, tried to speak, but failed a second time. A hand slipped beneath his blanket, trailed boldly along his skin.
Rook let go of the blanket, shivered as it fell loose and then was torn away, shivers increasing at the combination of sharp cold around him, incredible warmth behind him, and the even greater rushing heat of unexpected lust.
A hand slid down his chest, dipped into his pants to tease over his cock—then withdrew almost immediately, making Rook whimper. The hand over his eyes vanished, but only for a moment, before a familiar length of dark cloth was wrapped around them and knotted at the back of his head.
The back of his neck was kissed, and then the warmth was gone. He stood still, listening, heart racing, body thrumming with excitement, skin prickling. The heat returned, and he was urged gently forward, arms braced again on the window—but it had been covered with his lost blanket, he realized immediately, and smiled.
He swore as his pants were abruptly pulled down enough to bare his ass, swore again as one finger pushed carefully inside him. His cheeks went hot at the sound of chuckling, the way one finger quickly became two, Rook still well-stretched from his attempts earlier that night to exhaust himself enough to actually sleep through the night.
It hadn’t worked, because his own fingers and a sex toy were no comparison. He moaned, jerking at how loud he suddenly sounded but unable to keep silent, spreading his legs as wide as he could as the fingers withdrew to be replaced by a hot, hard cock.
Lips kissed his neck again, and he felt the rough press of fabric against his ass and thighs, against his bare back—and then he could only feel every thrust, the fingers on his hips, the warm lips and tongue on his skin, warmth breaths against his neck.
He came with a cry half-muffled against the blanket and his own folded arms, felt the cry that Noor muffled against his neck.
Panting, Rook pulled off the blindfold twisted his head as much as he could, to stare at Noor. “Welcome home, savage.”
“Good evening, my heathen,” Noor said, and kissed him briefly before rising. Rook groaned as Noor pulled out of him, not quite trusting his limbs as he slowly stood up and righted his own pants. He retrieved the blanket and bundled it up. Noor cupped his chin and tilted his face up, and Rook met his kiss eagerly, matching the hunger and longing and satisfaction in it. “I missed you,” Noor said eventually.
Rook laughed. “So I noticed. You’re warm.”
“You’re barely dressed,” Noor countered, and bundled him close. “Let us go to bed, Heathen. I have every intention of staying there for a very long time.”
“Good,” Rook said, looping an arm around Noor’s waist. “It is never the same without you, savage.”
Noor chuckled. “Is that why you were not in it?”
“It’s very hard to sleep in a cold bed,” Rook replied, smiling at him.
“Then let’s go warm it,” Noor murmured, and increased their pace.