It was one of the many things that bound them, like an innocuous red string, together as both friends, and as a couple. Vincent loved the feel of being utterly in control as he sped down the road, his long black hair billowing out in the wind, red eyes narrowed as a thin, happy smile lit his face. Cloud was much the same, though for him, it was the feel of wind in his face, teasing his hair away and making his leathers flutter and flow. They both oftentimes spent whole days on the road, dismounting stiff and sore, but after a few minutes walking around, they'd both set up camp, their tent, and settle down for the night.
Fenrir, Cloud parked always on the left, the big black and gold bike providing a suitable shield against the winds. Sleipnir, Vincent always settled opposite, the slender red and gray bike a perfect shield for sniping should an angry bear or panther come down from the forests. Six swords were stored in Fenrir's fenders, while eight guns made their homes out of Sleipnir's saddlebags, and all the weapons were cleaned and stored in the tent by the time dinner was ready. All of this, and not a word said...but two warriors didn't need words. Little glances, thin, welcoming smiles, and the occasional sensual touch; that was all they needed.
