"I will remember that," he said gravely, albeit with a smile in his eyes. There was a dark color to his voice then that Timon might never have heard before. Kaus was hardly a Casanova, but he did have some experience in this arena. But, true to his word, he let the flare of heat ease back down into something akin to a comfortable glow from a well-kept fire.
The regular interludes between their time alone, these spent conversing with their hostess and on a few occasions, with her attendants, marked the passage of time through the evening. The flavors truly were amazing and required their attention. Sharing the experience was special.
Three hours later, they were being escorted back to the quay, still enjoying their hostess' conversation. Timon's pocket had notes she had brought from the chef per Timon's request, answers to questions, names of certain purveyors, and the like. She bowed to them before they stepped onto the quay, and politely bid them thanks and farewell. They bowed in turn, and listened to her singing as she seemed to float the path back into the House of the Artisan.
Their stomachs were satiated. Their mouths still marveling at the complex tastes that lingered. Their ride bobbed at the end of the quay, but, as with everything so far, they were not rushed.
For a moment, Kaus considered tackling Timon and kissing him all the way down until instinct made his wings snap open to catch them before landing. Instead, he put an arm around Timon's shoulders, pulled the younger man's arm around his waist, and mantled his wings a bit to protect him from the winds; this high up, the islands needed warding, but those only blunted the worst of it.
"Where would you like to go next?" he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the wind.
Kaus had ideas, of course, but he did want to keep supporting the habit of Timon communicating his desires. The idea of being climbed like a tree was not distasteful.
