Riven stiffened for a second at the sensation, the unexpected wetness making him blink in surprise. A shiver ran up his spine, not from the cold but from the sudden change in Ronan's energy.
His hands moved to Ronan's shoulders instinctively, meaning to push him back and ask what was wrong—but Ronan held him tighter, one arm around his back, the other hand pressing gently behind his thigh to keep him close.
Riven exhaled slowly, letting his resistance melt. He raised one hand higher and reached into Ronan's hair. The strands were as soft as they looked, snow-white and thick, the kind of hair that easily drew envy. His fingers spread deep through it, parting the strands at the roots and slowly combing them back with his nails.
This was the only way he could offer comfort... At least in this position anyway.
He combed Ronan's hair through once, twice, before letting it slip from between his fingers like falling silk.
It was such a quiet, intimate gesture.
