Rook pushes his knee between Ulysse's legs when he turns, his hand sliding over the man's hip to pull him closer until there's no air between them, just warm skin, warm and subtle, eager to touch and feel.

They might kiss every now and then, but there are moments in between where only the tips of their noses touch, Ulysse's brow rests against Rook's chin, the mage presses his lips to that perfect hairline.

Sex, or even foreplay, has never been like this to the mage. It's a completely new and fascinating thing for him.