11-17-2019, 11:29 PM
----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Pteron knows that his battered heart has returned to his chest only because of the way it clenches so tightly; a vise for the achingly long moment when it seems that Aegean does not respond. But then he does, and the vise shatters Pteron’s core into ten thousand violet butterflies that whirl about so dizzyingly that he nearly stumbles. Instead he presses closer, chest to chest, and when he hears that first soft moan he swears it vibrates down to the very core of his being.
”Aegean,” He whispers against him, mouthing his name like a prayer, ”Aegean”.
Kissing comes as easy as smiling for Pteron; he has long lost count of those he has given and taken, stolen and returned. Yet none of them have prepared him for this, for this roaring fire inside of him that is even brighter than the starlight that replaces the grey fog. He marvels that Aegean does not pull away from the heat of it, scorched, and that his own knees do not give beneath him. Some part of him is aware the the world around them changes color, but no part wants to know anything but Aegean.
Only when there is darkness around them, only when Aegean’s mouth leaves his own and trace his cheek, does he even open his eyes, and the ghost of the boy’s lips across his throat elicits a breathy sigh. The sigh becomes a whimper of pleasure when Aegean bites down, and Pteron is sure he is moments away from combustion.
This is more than he ever had let himself imagine he might have of Aegean. Pteron would have been content to simply watch him - even from a distance - to take pleasure in the mere sight of him. Yet as Aegean speaks again, calls him ‘the sun’, Pteron knows that just looking will never satisfy him again.
Though it still bleeds freely from the first blow, Pteron offers his heart up a second time. He bares it, much like he bares his throat (please, another kiss, one with teeth to match the need he feels), when he replies to Aegean’s words with his own.
”And you the moon,” he breathes, eyes cast toward the pitch-black heavens as though he pleads for their aid. ”The moon.” Pteron kisses the so-soft place behind his white ear. ”My moon.”
@[aegean]
-- pteron --