Kes and Talen - Performance ficlet for Cicirossi.

How he could be so hungry for touch with so many people now, touching and stroking and oiling and cleaning and measuring and nudging and straightening and correcting and groping and grabbing he doesn't know. Even good touches, people who seem to care about him who's attentions he welcomes, are not longer in rationed supply, and yet the second Tal's fingers brush the back of his hand, he still inhales sharply, floods with feeling. His eyes stay shut, and he couldn’t lift his head from the running board of the rattling cart if there were jewels and gems bet on it. There he is, smiling and glowing, at just that tiny touch.

He squirms back lazily, so his shirt rides up a little, baring skin at his lower back. Talen takes the bait, settling a large hand there, fingers working at Kes's tired muscles in soft slow circles. He is probably purring if Tal's chuckle is anything to go by. He feels like purring should feel – warm and boneless and content, the cart's motion transformed into a lulling rocking by Tal's presence. He wonders idly if he is meant to get up now to take his turn riding with the horses and let someone else sleep, but those weren't the words he wanted to say even if he had the energy to make words out loud at all.

The slight whimper when Tal's hand moved away and straightened the cool fabric over his skin instead of touching him more is almost entirely unintentional, and his eyes are heavy and won't open even though he want to see Tal's body, shadows against the stars.

"You did well. Rest now, beloved."

Tal's voice is soft and deep, like velvets and furs and sleep whispering over his neck, sliding under the road noises, and then the feeling of Talen leaning over him, close and warm, is gone and sleep is come in his place.

Kes and Talen - Performance ficlet for Cicirossi.

How he could be so hungry for touch with so many people now, touching and stroking and oiling and cleaning and measuring and nudging and straightening and correcting and groping and grabbing he doesn't know. Even good touches, people who seem to care about him who's attentions he welcomes, are not longer in rationed supply, and yet the second Tal's fingers brush the back of his hand, he still inhales sharply, floods with feeling. His eyes stay shut, and he couldn’t lift his head from the running board of the rattling cart if there were jewels and gems bet on it. There he is, smiling and glowing, at just that tiny touch.

He squirms back lazily, so his shirt rides up a little, baring skin at his lower back. Talen takes the bait, settling a large hand there, fingers working at Kes's tired muscles in soft slow circles. He is probably purring if Tal's chuckle is anything to go by. He feels like purring should feel – warm and boneless and content, the cart's motion transformed into a lulling rocking by Tal's presence. He wonders idly if he is meant to get up now to take his turn riding with the horses and let someone else sleep, but those weren't the words he wanted to say even if he had the energy to make words out loud at all.

The slight whimper when Tal's hand moved away and straightened the cool fabric over his skin instead of touching him more is almost entirely unintentional, and his eyes are heavy and won't open even though he want to see Tal's body, shadows against the stars.

"You did well. Rest now, beloved."

Tal's voice is soft and deep, like velvets and furs and sleep whispering over his neck, sliding under the road noises, and then the feeling of Talen leaning over him, close and warm, is gone and sleep is come in his place.