"I'm just saying that I don't think I've done anything special." Not that anyone had complained to him, but if he was doing something wrong, would they really say anything? Hmm, now that was food for thought. Frowning, Declan continued walking for a moment then shook his head. "What were yer hands doing?"
Purring softly, smirking, Garret's hand moved slowly down Declan's body and squeezed his ass firmly. "They were feeling up every inch of you. Every... firm... pulsing... throbbing inch of you..." Turning his face, he nuzzled against Declan's neck, slowing their pace as he pressed a few soft, barely there kisses on the skin. "Mmm," he moaned softly, taking in the dryad's scent. Irish Spring soap and the forest, such a distinctive smell.
It was a good thing Garret was helping to hold Declan up, because it meant he caught the dryad as he stumbled slightly. "Oh, well." Declan cleared his throat, standing upright once more and walking at the pace set. "That's definitely something ye've done before."
Garret knew he needed to focus on something other than the muscled body beside him, the scent intoxicating him, the memories and flushed heat flooding him. Swallowing, he pulled back from Declan, putting a few steps of distance between them. Think of Keely, think of Mal and Rorie. Think of anything but what you're thinking about. "Mm hmm," he agreed, nodding, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was good, too. I loved the way you reacted to it. Made me feel powerful kind of. Desirable." Chewing his lip a moment, Garret tried not to remember the way Declan looked when he was aroused, how he had leaned into Garret's touch to eagerly. He was not doing so well at not thinking about it.
Declan cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to keep them warm as they walked along the path. His mind was exactly where Garret's was, replaying that evening after their checker game when the pathfinder led him back to the bedroom and offered him the freedom to touch. To explore. Declan could still recall the feel of those smooth muscles beneath his fingertips, his tongue. The way Garret's nipple had beaded into a hard bud when he licked it and the harsh groan had passed his lips. Clearing his throat again, Dec finally murmured, "From what I remember you make some rather fascinating noises as well."
Laughing a little, Garret nodded. "I've been told that," he said, a bit of huskiness in his voice. "I've always been pretty... vocal..." Swallowing, Garret drew in a slow, deep breath, a bit surprised and perhaps a little overwhelmed as to how intensely the fire of lust was burning in him tonight. With Rorie had Mal, nothing had happened, nothing had stirred. It was been frustrating as hell that nothing had been happening, but that seemed to only make things worse. The hospital doctor had warned him about this kind of reaction (or lack thereof), saying it was very common in heart attack patients. Part of it was medication, part of it psychological, a fear of pushing the heart too hard. Apparently, Garret's heart didn't mind the chance of exploding for Declan tonight.
After a moment of awkward silence, Garret laughed out loud, his breath bursting out in puffs in the chilly night air. "You must be thoroughly enjoying this," he said with a smile. "Getting me flustered twice in a night, leaving me tongue tied... I can't even tell you the last time someone left me tongue tied, and here you are just... rackin 'em up..." Glancing briefly at Declan, Garret sighed, loudly. "I'm glad you don't have an ego, or else I'd never hear the end of this."
Twice? Declan frowned, trying to think back over their evening. Earlier he'd upset Garret, so that couldn't be it. Turning slightly troubled eyes to his friend, he couldn't help but ask, "Twice? When was th'other?" Since Garret was walking along the other edge of the path, Declan stepped back up onto the cleared dirt so he could avoid the twigs, briars and roots along the edge.