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Even here, in Mark’s rooms, they could still hear the piano from the ballroom. Far from the black ties and white lies that made up the guest list requirements of the Beaks/Glamour social expectations.
Here, in Mark’s living room it was just the two of them. With no pressure to be something, or someone, they weren’t.
And time passed slowly since the whispered plea, “Dance with me.” And Falcon couldn’t find it in himself to say no to the younger man. So there they were. Bathed in darkness, moonlight peaked through the parted curtains as Falcon held Mark close.
“Kiss me?” Mark asked, their swaying coming to a halt as he looked up at Falcon, eyes pleading.
“Of course.” Falcon replied, leaning forward, hand sliding up from Mark’s waist to cup his cheek, thumb brushing against stray feathers before leaning down to kiss him. Sparks erupting behind closed eyes like every kiss they shared before. Never knowing where one began and the other ended. The two melted into each other as Mark lifted himself higher, arms wrapping around his neck.
Content to share the moment with the other and no pressure to resort to made up titles and fabricated status.