'Naked truth' was the operative phrase, considering how it was only a few layers of fabric that lay between Renly's arousal and the object of his blatant desire. Modesty was certainly out of the question, but he took consolation in the fact that Loras seemed to be in a sympathetic state. Renly wanted desperately to pull this gorgeous, dangerous man into his car and bring him home and take him, claim him, write his name on Loras' lips in whimpers and screams and ecstatic groans. Or maybe they wouldn't make it home, maybe Renly would just have him in the back seat in his eagerness to taste and touch and witness every inch of his body.
But he couldn't. Not yet. He wouldn't. Renly didn't want his stranger to wind up as another name in his phone book that he'd never call, for fear of rejection or - even worse - acceptance. He didn't want to turn this man into a conquest and nothing more. Renly wanted him, this Loras Tyrell who excited him, and terrified him, and made him so hard that it felt like a wonder he hadn't grown dizzy from lack of oxygen to his brain.
"I want you," he echoed his thoughts aloud, laying a row of gentle kisses up the column of the man's throat and along his chin. "I want to know you. I wish that I..." Remembered. Understood. "I wish that I knew you, the way you know me. I need to know you." He couldn't hide the anguish in his voice as he whispered the words against Loras' chin.