Aoren had never been rendered breathless before. He had never really felt the fluttering of butterflies in the pit of his stomach but as Caelum leaned forward pressing the kiss to his cheek it took a moment for him to recover from every thought in his brain being scattered into a hundred different directions. Even as the towel was handed to him Aoren only stood there for a moment holding it against his chest. Gingerly he reached up to brush his fingers across the surface of his cheek where Caelum’s lips had rest upon his skin. Warmth began to gather in Aoren’s face. The bath was already warm but he suddenly felt several degrees hotter. He knew without having to look that redness was flushing his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He was pulled from his dazed state when Caelum began talking again. Shaking his head, which seemed counter-productive in the effort of collecting his thoughts, he rose up out of the water stepping up onto the ledge of the bath.
He made no effort to hide himself this time around. He ran the soft fabric of the towel over his body listening to Caelum’s words but only partially hearing them. His mind was still focused on two simple words precluded by a kiss.
Welcome home.
Home. Until that moment Aoren had never, in the whole of his life, felt as if he’d been welcome anywhere. The caretakers at the Welcome Home orphanage in Syliras had once said it was the echo that all orphans grew up with. Outcasts every one of them, alone together in a sea of strangers.
No more.
Whether it was the warmth that he felt coursing through his body or simply because he had made up his mind, Aoren felt emboldened. Wrapping the towel about his waist he glided across the tiles of the room stepping up close to Caelum even as he was busy fiddling with the locks of hair he claimed as payment. With a sureness that he had never felt before in getting closer to another person Aoren brought a hand to Caelum’s waist before pulling him close. With his other hand he caught Caelum’s chin between his fingers and tipped his face upward so that their gaze met firmly. Eyes the color of Laviku’s deep waters searched the honeyed fields of Caelum’s gaze. Aoren’s heart rate picked up. He felt as if he were shaking but when he spoke his voice was steady and strong.
“I’m done searching.” The hand that gently grasped Caelum’s chin slid to cup the side of his face before Aoren leaned in pressing his lips to the Ethaefal’s. What Aoren lacked in the way of finesse or experience in being intimate with others he made up for in simply giving in to the emotions coursing through him. For the first time in a long time he felt no doubt. He didn’t feel the bitter tang of fear, fear of rejection or the ache born from a hole he could not fill. He felt the weight of so much loss, so much pain and suffering from the trials in his life, abate. The phantoms were still there but for the moment they could be pushed aside. Here and now the whole of who he was, was focused on Caelum.
What he wanted. What he needed, for the first time he felt as if he had finally found it. It was a liberating feeling so intoxicating that Aoren nearly felt like weeping. Almost.
The kiss was not a short one for what meaning was there in stolen pecks? When finally Aoren broke it he did not jump back like a shy boy but stood there waiting to accept the consequence of his action. His hand remained upon Caelum’s cheeks, the thumb gently rubbing across the Ethaefal’s cheekbone. He said nothing. He merely studied Caelum. He studied the strands of his hair. He studied the lines of his face and the tone of his skin. He felt as though what could have been said with words, he said enough with his actions. When his eyes met Caelum’s again he did wonder if the Ethaefal would do the same.
.
He made no effort to hide himself this time around. He ran the soft fabric of the towel over his body listening to Caelum’s words but only partially hearing them. His mind was still focused on two simple words precluded by a kiss.
Welcome home.
Home. Until that moment Aoren had never, in the whole of his life, felt as if he’d been welcome anywhere. The caretakers at the Welcome Home orphanage in Syliras had once said it was the echo that all orphans grew up with. Outcasts every one of them, alone together in a sea of strangers.
No more.
Whether it was the warmth that he felt coursing through his body or simply because he had made up his mind, Aoren felt emboldened. Wrapping the towel about his waist he glided across the tiles of the room stepping up close to Caelum even as he was busy fiddling with the locks of hair he claimed as payment. With a sureness that he had never felt before in getting closer to another person Aoren brought a hand to Caelum’s waist before pulling him close. With his other hand he caught Caelum’s chin between his fingers and tipped his face upward so that their gaze met firmly. Eyes the color of Laviku’s deep waters searched the honeyed fields of Caelum’s gaze. Aoren’s heart rate picked up. He felt as if he were shaking but when he spoke his voice was steady and strong.
“I’m done searching.” The hand that gently grasped Caelum’s chin slid to cup the side of his face before Aoren leaned in pressing his lips to the Ethaefal’s. What Aoren lacked in the way of finesse or experience in being intimate with others he made up for in simply giving in to the emotions coursing through him. For the first time in a long time he felt no doubt. He didn’t feel the bitter tang of fear, fear of rejection or the ache born from a hole he could not fill. He felt the weight of so much loss, so much pain and suffering from the trials in his life, abate. The phantoms were still there but for the moment they could be pushed aside. Here and now the whole of who he was, was focused on Caelum.
What he wanted. What he needed, for the first time he felt as if he had finally found it. It was a liberating feeling so intoxicating that Aoren nearly felt like weeping. Almost.
The kiss was not a short one for what meaning was there in stolen pecks? When finally Aoren broke it he did not jump back like a shy boy but stood there waiting to accept the consequence of his action. His hand remained upon Caelum’s cheeks, the thumb gently rubbing across the Ethaefal’s cheekbone. He said nothing. He merely studied Caelum. He studied the strands of his hair. He studied the lines of his face and the tone of his skin. He felt as though what could have been said with words, he said enough with his actions. When his eyes met Caelum’s again he did wonder if the Ethaefal would do the same.
.
