I should have loved a thunderbird instead
at least when spring comes they roar back again
Aegean experiences so much of his life as if in a dream.
It is muted, muffled, soft. He feels the vibrancy of colors, but not in their full saturation. He feels the joy of life but not with its full volume. It’s the way he likes it—the way that he prefers it. That dreamy quality to his life, the detached feeling he can have, even when he feels such brilliant, vibrant emotions.
But this is not muted at all.
This is everything coming roaring to life in him and his head swims with the vibrancy of it.
His name sounds so different when Pteron says it, and he cherishes it, learns every syllable as though he can commit it to memory. His smile is parted and the breath that he does manage to catch such a shallow thing so that he feels nearly weightless, his body floating, his mind snapping with the reality of it.
He learns that his teeth can drive a whimper from Pteron and his heart races. His tongue touches his bottom lip to taste the salt and he is surprised to find that he can taste the other boy on it. He wonders if he will aways be able to taste him there, if he will carry this moment with him forever.
But he does not need to savor it for now—does not need to store it away.
Because they are still together and Pteron offers him his throat again. Aegean is greedy in his want, in his exploration that is at both slow, laborious and exhilarating. His teeth scrape down the other’s neck, pinching the flesh between his dull teeth, letting his tongue slowly salve the skin where he leaves.
Pteron kisses him and he smiles, his exhale catching on the edge of his tongue.
“I will gladly burn in your heavens for the night,” he says on a sigh.
For all nights, he thinks, but such things are implied. There is no need to say such truths.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head.)