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Lilac Cookie always imagined things would remain the same as they always did. It was simple. The heat overtook the desert by day, and was rushed away by the cool, biting winds of nightfall.
Yet here here was, surrounded by the warmth of another body instead of the chilling air. Careful not to stir the man wrapped around his chest, Lilac made quiet, shallow breaths. He brought his hand up, brushing over the curves of Yogurt Cream's back. His shoulders, his neck. Everywhere he could reach, Lilac Cookie touched with a careful palm. The prince let out small noises as the assassin's course and calloused hands brushed across his soft, unmarked skin. A boy used to being coddled and cared for, never sparing those below him a second thought. Greedy, selfish...
Lilac truly envied Yogurt Cream, aching for a world of simplicity such as his. In another lifetime, Lilac would have despised the prince.
And yet, he couldn't get enough of the other. His long, cascading hair that framed a never-ending grin, those deep contemplative eyes that glittered of the gold decorating Yogurt Cream's body. His lean, atrophied muscles and shining unscarred skin contrasted to Lilac's own built frame, tattooed and scarred with years of shame. Yogurt Cream always seemed to walk with unbridled confidence, his poise overpowering and his chantilly-smooth voice intoxicating. He was surprisingly strong as well, as Lilac constantly found himself pinned to the closest surface when Yogurt Cream was tired of his own teasing. Nagging, persistent prince. He always seemed to find Lilac in his rare moments of peace, pulling the assassin back into his swirling storm. Despite it all, Lilac wouldn't have it any other way.
Fingers tangled in his own, Lilac let himself accept that this is the life he deserves. The man he deserves. Maybe he would go far as to say the happiness he deserves.
He would never admit it, but he despised the blood he was born into and the home he was raised in. Lilac recalled the aching feeling of starvation that seeped into every fiber of his being as a child. It was far more painful than anything a blade could inflict. He repressed the memories of arguments in the marketplace, the memories of dogfights and children playing with knives, the memories of his kin's fists striking his face, the memories of receiving the tattoos. Even now, each sensation against the marks on his skin remind him of the cutting pain.
"Lilac?"
That sweet voice accompanied by a rush of warm breath ghosted across Lilac's collarbone. He came to, not even noticing Yogurt Cream tugging on him until his eyes ached and stung with the sensation of forming tears. Lilac exhaled slowly, his eyelashes catching on Yogurt Cream's as the younger man pulled himself upwards and caught Lilac's lips between his own. Lilac squeezed Yogurt Cream's upper arm, silently reassuring him he was okay. Yogurt Cream was well aware of Lilac's nightmares of his past, his less fortunate upbringing, and the awful things he has done to escape it.
The two stilled there, holding each other tightly as Yogurt Cream kissed around his lips and jaw. Lilac would let the prince do anything he pleased to him, and he was grateful Yogurt Cream was eager to comfort Lilac the moment he sensed his distress. His whole life, Lilac was accustomed to fighting for, taking, even stealing what he needed to survive. And here he was, handed the world on a silver platter by the only Cookie Lilac would ever want to spend eternity with. Lilac simply stared upwards, out of the roof of Yogurt Cream's canopy bed. He peered out of the skylight, watching the moon and the stars as Yogurt Cream kissed and licked across his shoulders.
Lilac wasn't sure what he did to have ended up this lucky.