promptfic: uldren/jolyon, fingertips

[sword_logic]

Jolyon is awake the second Uldren slips back into their room. Uldren makes next to no noise as he strips off his cloak and boots and changes out of the rest of his armor, cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim, distant starlight that filters into the room. His skin is cool when he slides under the covers; his hands unerringly seeking out Jolyon’s waist; his lips ghosting a kiss over the nape of Jolyon’s neck, sending a warm burst of sparks over his skin.

“Well?” Jolyon asks.

“Ship’s ready,” Uldren replies, and presses another, more substantial kiss to the curve of his neck. “Weather on Mars looks clear so far, minus the Cabal thunderstorm in orbit.”

“Bring an umbrella, then,” Jolyon mutters, and Uldren gently digs fingers between his ribs, just hard enough to tickle and make him squirm. “Uldren—”

He wrenches himself out of Uldren’s grip and onto his back, and Uldren just moves around him, bracing himself up on one forearm. In the dim light his eyes shine like galaxies, corners creased by the smile on his face.

“You’re insufferable,” Jolyon sighs, and gently cups his Prince’s cheek in one hand. Uldren lowers his eyes and presses a kiss to his palm.

“And I don’t thank you enough for putting up with me,” Uldren murmurs back.

He folds his hand over Jolyon’s, filling the space between his fingers with his own, and he shifts his cheek under Jolyon’s palm so that he can kiss each fingertip, slow and light, and Jolyon’s eyes are closed by the third kiss.

“The Black Garden better be worth it,” Jolyon says, just to be contrary.

Uldren finally leans down to kiss him proper, deep and slow and sweet, and in the dark Jolyon runs his hands over the familiar lines of his face, his neck, his shoulders, his back, reveling in the comfortable press of their bodies, the shape of the one thing in this universe he holds dearest.

“It will be,” Uldren replies, “because you’ll be with me.”