Renly's nose filled with the intoxicating scent of the man's shampoo and whatever soap he had used, as he traced the swell of Loras' cheek with his mouth while his hands smoothed down the fine baby hairs at the nape of his neck. This man, his skin, his body against Renly's... he felt like home, comforting and warm and safe. He felt the ghost of a breath against his throat and knew that it would raise goosebumps on his skin, despite the warm early-summer breeze that ruffled their hair.
"You aren't dreaming," he said gently, cupping the sides of Loras' face with both hands and pulling back to look him in the eye. "I mean, do I look like a knight to you right now?"
Renly's thumbs moved to graze over the man's cheekbones, then brushed over his lower lip. His head was spinning, and he wondered how exactly this had happened. He'd gotten in the car tonight with the intention of - well, he was sure exactly what his intentions had been. Getting some answers, certainly. Finding out if he was stupid for feeling inexplicably drawn to a stranger, or if it was at all possible that there was a reason for it. Finding out if the dozens of people on the network going on and on about their dreams had anything to do with the way that Loras Tyrell looked at him, touched him, knew him.