Work Text:
A quiet alley on the edges of Marmoreal Market, a pillar column jutting out just far enough - so that the pair of Chrysos Heirs are hidden away from stray, prying eyes -
“What are you doing, Deliverer - “
Mydei spits and hisses - brows pinched together in a fierce frown, teeth gritted, until his canines are peeking out - keeps his voice low, even though he’s practically bristling with annoyance, so as not to attract any undue attention to how Phainon currently has him, basically, pinned to the wall -
They’re so close, Mydei can feel Phainon’s soft exhales - shallow, like the latter doesn’t even dare to breathe - washing over his own lips (and Mydei pretends he isn’t using every single strand of willpower within him - to not just mash them together and close the minuscule gap between them - )
“Please, Mydeimos - “
(The gentlest of touches - the ghosting of Phainon’s thumb swiping across his cheekbone - but Mydei feels himself breaking seared branded burned all the same - )
Mydei curses that he somehow can never reject whatever request passes from the other’s lips (his other, deep in Mydei's heart anyway).
(Sometimes, the spark of yearning he so clearly sees in crystal blue and icterine, makes Mydei believe he’s wanted desired just the same - )
A click of his tongue against his teeth - Mydei’s final show of defiance - as his shoulders go slack beneath Phainon’s gloved palm, amber gaze sliding downwards, even as he feels the blush on his face creep ever upwards -
“Do what you wish.”
(The with me remains lodged firmly within, unspoken - )
And Mydei thinks it’s utterly utterly unfair - how such simple words can make the other’s expression lift and brighten, as if they were words of salvation - I’m not worthy of your reverence -
But then, everything fizzles to a quiet calm - the echoes of bustling street noises, the far off pounding of the travelling dromas, and the ugly voices of why me it can’t be me that rears its head only for matters that involve Phainon - the moment Phainon’s lips meet his own, feeling like the first rays of sunlight and something whole -
Perhaps it doesn’t matter if there is, or isn’t, a word for love in the Kremnoan language.