all the missing pieces of my heart finally collide | aegean

[Pteron]

and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
----------------tell me: who do i run to?

He opens his eyes slowly against the brightness of the morning sun. Though the branches overhead are numerous they are winter bare and provide little shade, save the Norway spruce that they rest directly under. Pteron does his best to remain still, not wishing to disturb the pale head that rests across his back. There are few positions comfortable for them both at this stage of Aegean’s pregnancy, but Pteron does not hesitate to offer himself as a pillow even if that means his own sleep is more fitful. He is not the one growing a child, not the one kicked from the insides by many strong little feet. 

Pteron hopes there are twins, though he’s not yet admitted this to Aegean. Even one child is a heavy responsibility; wishing for two seems like wishing for the moon.

He did get the moon though, Pteron thinks with a sleepy smile. Moving carefully, he touches his lips to his lover’s glowing white neck, tucks away a lock of the impossibly pale hair behind the base of strong brown antlers. He smiles as he presses one last kiss to Aegean’s cheek, and then turns to lift his face to the weak warmth of the rising sun.

He waits until he feels the other stallion shift against him before he moves again, having lost track of how long that might have been, dozing off himself.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He says warmly but without drawing closer, allowing Aegean the space to stretch however he might wish. Sometimes the child shifts within him while he sleeps, Pteron knows, and wonders once more how long it might be before it arrives. He is eager, and turns so that he might press his forehead against the other’s wide belly. “You though, stay asleep. Let your Dad have some rest.” Smiling, he meets Aegean’s amethyst eyes, marveling at the way they sparkle in the sunlight.

“I think we should go to the West,” says the dun pegasus. “It’s warm, and I heard your mothers are in Tephra,” he continues, “Or at least so your Uncle says.” The thought of Svedka elicits an amused smile that Pteron doesn’t hide. “We could settle down,” he says teasingly, “let the little one meet its grandmothers.”

@[aegean]

-- pteron --