#thesaviouranonymous

The show had ended at 9:58.  The rain started 5 minutes later.  The sky had been clear the entire night, and the weather forecast pointed to clear skies, and yet it still rained.  Knight started running first, not stopping to button his coat. Loki followed, and soon they were running together down the sidewalk on Broadway toward nowhere in particular. 

“Tell me again why we decided to walk?” Loki yelled to his lover’s back over the sounds of traffic and heavy rain.  

“Don’t pin this on me!” Knight yelled back, voice muffled but still audible to the god.  

They turned West 72nd street, no clear destination in sight, when Loki quickened his pace, overtaking Knight.  He grabbed the anon’s wrist with a grin and half-dragged his lover into central park.  

“What are we doing?” Knight yelled through the rain, but the trickster ignored him.  They ran for what seemed like a mile.  ”Loki!” Knight called again, now frustrated and soaked. 

“Over here,” Loki said at last, brushing thick, wet strands of hair out of his face.  A gazebo stood several feet away by the lake, barely visible through the haze of the heavy rain.  They ran for it, slowing to a stop as soon as they climbed the stairs and entered the small wooden shelter.  

The sound of their panting was oddly complimented by the constant pitter-patter of the rain.  Loki looked to his lover taking in the white button down that clung to his chest and the way the rain had matted down his hair, and he laughed.  

Knight grumbled his irritation at the perceived slight, directing his gaze toward the lake which was practically invisible agains the endless gray.

Loki stepped closer until their toes touched.  ”Knight, darling,” he breathed as he cupped his lover’s face in his hands.  He rested his forehead against Knight’s, absorbing the stormy blue depths of his eyes.  ”You are so beautiful right now,” Loki said, no hint of malice or amusement in his voice.  

The anon’s face contorted, reflecting the various emotions he was experiencing, frustration, discomfort, anxiety, and then his face relaxed into a smile.  ”Don’t lie to me, Loki,” he laughed, raising his hands to cover his lover’s.

“I’m not,” Loki assured him, eyes lingering on his face and falling to his lips.  They were not full lips, but they were soft.  Knight had a habit of biting them when he was nervous or licking them when he wanted attention.  They seemed to glisten now, perhaps still damp from the rain.  He wanted to devour those lips; claim them as his own.  But instead he kissed the anon gently, pressing his lips to Knight’s almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid that they might break at the slightest touch.  He had such warm, irresistible lips.

“Loki,” Knight breathed, warm breath brushing against his lover’s lips.  His hands knotted in Loki’s drenched shirt, leaving the impressions of his fingers in the once starched fabric.  

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Loki said, wrapping his arms around Knight’s waist. “You are so alive right now.  So tangible.  Like perhaps if I reached out right now I could touch your spirit.  Not just this body, but your very essence.”  It was impossible to explain.  Even in Asgard the spirit was a mystery, but if he could judge, it was in these moments that he was closest to his lover, and perhaps it was the same for Knight.

Not knowing what else to say, Loki kissed Knight again, drawing him closer in his embrace.  In that moment the world fell away and everything faded until it was just him and Knight, bodies pressed intimately together in imperfect union.

Why are sexy, full bodied positions hard especially when you want to do large strokes?

Giggling softly like a naughty child, Knight teasingly cooed into the feline god’s ear as he continued his stroking, making extra sure to pay attention to the tips of his ear. “Well hello, my darling fiance, were you busy?”

"Knight...!" He spoke with a tremendously loud gasp, almost sounding more like a beg than just realization.

The combination of the coo and touch had him reeling, his eyes fluttering into a deeper lid as he struggled to stand. The struggle ended just as Knight asked the question, his divine heart beating fast as he collapsed to his knees, having enough thought to twist himself so he faced him. Now facing his fiancee, all he could do now was stare, mouth agape as a tantalizing numbness devoured his body from him touching him that way. His breath hitched, the excited noise and thrill making his eyes slit. All this and then his wide open, long sleeved shirt drooped passed his shoulder blades, exposing him and the forming red of his paladin skin.

Gods, it already felt like he was just melting and about to gush. Embarrassing to say all because from a simple touch and the simple fact it's his fiancee's soft, feather-touch hands gracing his ears.

The Trickster had been minding himself with his front porch garden, pouring a special blend of liquid over his flowers, herbs, and vegetables, when a gentle brush came across his feline lobe. At first he ignored it, absentmindedly thinking it was the wind or something, but it happened again. Before he could turn around to say anything, a tiny blush and gasp appeared, and the next thing he knew he was arching his back and moaning. With his eyes blown and heavily lid, he dropped his pitcher unceremoniously and  leaned his head over, the common need for more suddenly flooding his being.