Rory pressed close, his eyelids fluttering closed as the sensation of Eisen’s skin against his overtook him, overwhelming his senses so much that he gasped for breath for a beat before crushing his lips Eisen’s again, although this time he dared to allow his tongue to enter Eisen’s soft mouth. He was cautious, careful. It wasn’t as if Rory had a lot of experience kissing people, and even with the theme of reckless abandon that was punctuating the night, Rory couldn’t help but hold back a little. Despite the tingling of his skin and the intoxicating scent that exploded from his pores, neither the spontaneity nor the novelty of the situation could imbue him with confidence. In most situations, Rory could improvise, he could disarm, he could distract. In this one, though... he was utterly vulnerable, and that scared him, and the fear was reflected in the shyness of his movements.
It was unlike Rory to have gone this long without saying anything. Words were, after all, Rory’s bread and butter, but there was something different about this whole situation. As passionate as it was, the unexpectedness of it all made it… fragile, and saying the wrong thing – saying anything at all – might ruin it, might bring them to their senses. But as Eisen’s hand brushed over his waist, Rory felt compelled to speak. He started with the most logical combination of syllables, an ironic allusion to the phrase he’d groaned so exasperatedly mere hours ago. “Oh... Eisen...”
Exasperation was the farthest thing from Rory’s tone, however, and the inflection on his name was more complex than it first appeared. Desire elongated the word, but the expression on his face, the look in his eyes... Rory might as well have said ‘I love you.’