With quick, steady fingers, Zarius unhooked the silver fastenings at Cherion's waist, his fingers brushing against Cherion's skin as he loosened the heavy cloth and dragged the fabric down past Cherion's hips to his thighs. Taking the hint, Cherion pushed himself up slightly on Zarius's lap, resting his weight against Zarius's broad shoulders as he hooked his fingers into the loosened cloth, dragging the trousers down his calves and impatiently kicking them off the bed entirely.
Cherion gasped as the air hit his lower body, but the chill lasted less than a second. He leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Zarius's neck. Oh, his scent was thick enough to make his head spin, washing away the dust of the temple tunnels and the lingering paranoia of the King's hidden art room.
