"Yes." He did know. He felt the cravings from his friend mirroring his own. Heat. Touch. Skin. More. Rory snarled softly at Peter's increased boldness, both in pressing up against him and sliding that inquisitive hand up his back. A sudden mischievous gleam entered the púca's eyes as he added, "But maybe I should make sure that I've got it right."

One arm wrapped around his friend's shoulders, he dipped his head to bring his mouth, not to Peter's lips this time, but to his throat. He sucked and nibbled at the cords of muscle stretching down to his shoulder, lapped at his warmly throbbing pulse. "Is this what you want, a chara?" he hissed softly in Peter's ear.

"Or maybe this?" The close fit of their bodies did not prevent Rory from sliding his hand slowly up his young friend's chest, popping open buttons on the way up. Nor did it keep him from letting that hand enjoy stroking the skin it was slowly exposing, fingers spread wide to learn the other man's contours, ears and fey sensitivity poised to drink in reactions and find sensitive spots.

By the time he'd undone the last button, the mischief in Rory's eyes had turned wicked. "Or just possibly ... this." Hands dropping to the hem of his own shirt, Rory shifted back slightly, just far enough for him to whisk the henley up and off. Tossing the shirt he cared not where, his eyes watched for Peter's reaction even as his hands reached out for him again.