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“What do you desire most from the Nephilim world?” Kieran asked one night. He added hastily, “Apart from your family.”
Mark snuggled closer, seeking more warmth from Kieran's body, while considering his answer.
“Hmm... Strawberries, I think,” Mark said eventually. Kieran threw back his head and laughed - his laugh sounded like the tinkling of a silver bell, sweet and light, the vibrations of which Mark could feel where his head rested on Kieran's chest.
“Then desire it no more, my love, for such a simple request can surely be fulfilled,” Kieran smiled, before leaning in to kiss Mark. They remained this way until they fell asleep at some point, then woke early in the morning only with the desire to kiss some more.
After that, Kieran often produced a basket of strawberries - collected during the Hunt, sometimes, and hidden in his cloak - for the two of them to share. His skilled fingers picked them deftly - although Mark knew those fingers were skilled at many other things too.
Late at night, perhaps, or very early in the morning, Kieran would feed Mark strawberries - slowly, lovingly, intimately - and Mark would return the favour. Their kisses were then flavoured, tainted, with the sweet juices of strawberries. The two boys would then curl up underneath Kieran's blanket - they always woke entangled, seeking one another out even in their sleep.
“Thank you,” Mark often said to his lover. “I know not how I would survive without you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Kieran would reply. “It brings me great joy to see you happy.”
When the two engaged in truly intimate activities for the first time, the strawberries were used too. (And Mark discovered just what else those fingers were good at.) By morning, the boys woke up with swollen lips and sex-mussed hair - but they were still not satisfied.
They started to ride together on one steed, and Mark would wrap his arms around Kieran so that he wouldn't fall to his untimely death. Kieran's hair turned light blue more often, and his laugh grew more common each day. The whispering echo of hooves skimming the tops of clouds became the soundtrack to their love - a love of stolen kisses and burning passion and the constant desire for something more permanent.
Perhaps they would have stayed that way - almost bound together, for all of eternity - had Iarlath of the Unseelie Court not taken Mark as a bargaining chip for the Shadowhunters.
Now Kieran lay alone with an empty steed, a broken heart, the knowledge that he would never be forgiven for what he had done to Mark's family, and nobody to give strawberries to.