you put your arms around me and i'm home
“Frøya, wake up.”
It’s a strange thing, being awake before Eros. Eros was the light sleeper, the one who usually woke him up (or at least, tried) with soft kisses and promises of a good day. Now though it’s Aion who stirs easily, happily awake before the sun and anxious to start the day.
He has an idea then, and he leans down to press his lips to Eros’ back. He’s still amazed at how warm he is: Aion had hardly noticed the way his own body temperature continued to drop, how cool he now was to the touch. It was an effect of his newfound magic, he supposed; but he hadn’t stopped to consider what his beloved would think of it.
The glow on the horizon continues to grow, bathing the lovers in soft, rose-colored light. The cooing of an owl gives way to the chirping of blue jays and cardinals and tree sparrows. It’s intermittent at first, almost shy; but gradually the trills grow louder and more numerous, until the very air seems to come to life with the birds’ music. Aion could almost sing along with them for how happy and content he is.
He presses on as the sun continues to rise, trailing his lips first to Eros’ shoulder, then up along the ridge of his neck. Here he pauses at the blue ink dyed into his mate’s crest, his kisses turning to nuzzles.
“Frø-ya,” he almost whines, his head falling heavily over the other man’s back. Of all days, of course it would be today that Eros would sleep in.
He stretches beside him, brushing one wing along his sleeping lover’s side. That was another thing that would take getting accustomed to: Aion hadn’t had wings since before he’d met Eros. It was like relearning how to use them, not that he minded.
He closes his eyes with a sigh, feeling particularly dramatic.
Today, he had determined, was going to be wonderful.
He just couldn’t wait for it to get started.
@eros
walk. "talk."
