“I’d not be down here if I didn’t want to, believe me,” Gareth pointed out, and licked him, base to tip. Lorre always tasted delicious, sugared and creamy; that wasn’t just Gareth’s perceptions being fondly in love, either. Lorre had wanted every piece of himself to be attractive and memorable.
He paused to say, “Anyway, it’s possible I’ve had fantasies about getting on my knees and tasting you in a garden.”
“Have you?”
Not until today, but resoundingly yes, now. He had a hand on Lorre’s hip, steadying them both. The path wasn’t hard at all under his knees, and the air was full of bright petals and green leaves and sun. His own body was a lute-string of want, ready for a note, but also awake and alive in the anticipation. “I’m going to have this fantasy forever. The only thing I’ll ever
