11-19-2019, 10:32 PM
----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Pteron asks her to be honest. He knows that doing so makes him a hypocrite, and foolishly thinks that he is prepared for the weight of that. And he might have been, were it not for what she confesses.
Unrequited love, she admits and Pteron watches his wide-eyed reflection in her tear-filled violet eyes without a word. Aquaria had made him promise, he realizes, but had not promised the same thing herself. She’d only sworn to not ask him to settle down. Her answer cements his earlier fear, the fear that their night together has changed the way she thinks of them. It had changed Pteron’s view as well, but his own battered heart is carved so deeply with another’s name that it has never even been involved. Aquaria had gone from a friend - a best friend - to something far more intimate. A lover, he thinks, but one that he does not love.
Guilt – he has ruined them – rises quicker than he expects.
It sours his chest, and he whispers “I’m sorry,” over and over, and tentatively brushes the tears from her pale cheeks. He has done this, he is why Aquaria cries. His fault. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean…” But it doesn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to do this, and he should have known better the night she came to Taiga. Yet even as Pteron berates himself, he feels the warmth of her pearly cheek beneath his careful lips. His blood is still hot for her, even as she cries in front of him, and the realization sickens him nearly worse than the guilt. She cries, and he thinks of himself.
Pteron draws back, the still water grown choppy with the abruptness of his movements. Space between them, he is thinking, she deserves space. But that is not what she asks for. Aquaria requests the very opposite, and he cannot hide turbulence that writhes within him. His raised head, lips still damp with her tears, shakes slowly back and forth. The right answer is no. He knows that. Aquaria knows it too. It is, without a doubt, best for them to face the reality of what has become of their friendship.
And yet…
The stallion moves closer. He kisses her on the mouth, as sweet and gentle as their first time. She tastes even more like the ocean here in her element, and he closes his eyes, bending his head so that their heads touch, poll to nose down the whole length of them.
“My heart is not mine to give,” he tells her, barely loud enough to be heard over the waves. But anything else you ask of me,” A second tender kiss comes as he tilts his head away, followed by a quiet murmur against her ear, “Anything at all, is yours. You are beautiful,” a third kiss on the bridge of her nose, “and clever,” a fourth between her eyes. “And my very dearest little fish. I will do anything to make you happy.”
@[Aquaria]
-- pteron --