"Snow Like Stars"
"Snow falls like stars:
little bits of heaven
from a moon-cast sky."
~*~
The snow falls like stars, and I can barely tell the difference as I look up into the sky. Next to me, he also stares up at the heavens, but his gaze is trained on the moon. The bright, hard, cold moon.
It is, after all, his namesake.
I watch him as he stares, eyes vacant as if thinking or remembering or. . . just getting lost in the sky. Snowflakes lie unmelted on his hair and coat the tips of his wings. His wings are beautiful, you know; I have always suppressed the desire to touch them, to run my hands over the feathers. Something always held me back.
But the snow is falling like stars, and he is beautiful under his moon, and my hands don't want to hold back any longer.
I run them along the edge of the a wing, feeling the hard muscle and bone, and he turns his head towards me sharply. I know he is staring at me, now, with those deep eyes, but his wings are too lovely to break my vision from. I trail a finger up along his wing and down a feather. My gloveless hands are cold, here in Yuki's backyard, but I can't imagine touching him with something between us.
He has closed his eyes now, snowflakes gathering on his lashes, and I wonder what I should read into his expression. Boredom? Annoyance? "Get your hands the hell off me?" But the corners of his lips quirk up into a crescent smile, and I think maybe I should read. . .
Contentment.
And he suddenly grabs me and pulls me into his arms, into the pressure of his warm body. He feels like a fire on this cold December night, something that I want to burrow into and remain in. My hand is still on his wing, still lightly stroking the feather, and I feel his breath on my neck.
His hand wanders down my spine to the small of my back, and perhaps I ought to have read desire into his expression too. Because he is kissing me, and I am kissing him, and it is good. Not fast, not lustful, not overwhelmingly passionate. Slow and smooth and light like the falling star-snow, and something that I could draw out forever.
A sudden shift, and Yue is gone. Yuki starts when he realizes his position, and then he responds in the way I've always wished he would.
Then he goes farther and pulls me to the ground, into the foot of pure snow in his backyard, and I laugh as he swings his arm and makes a snow-angel. It's as if Yue is reminding me, "I am still here."
I wonder if he changed back to Yuki on purpose, if this is his way of matchmaking.
I like it, whatever it is, and I like the way that Yuki's hands have slipped underneath my jacket and are rubbing my chest through the sweater. I lean over and press my lips to his, and he smiles, his eyes like the snow that is like the stars.
I swear I can see the moon in their reflection.
:::can you see the crystals falling from the heavens?:::
"Snow falls like stars:
little bits of heaven
from a moon-cast sky."
~*~
The snow falls like stars, and I can barely tell the difference as I look up into the sky. Next to me, he also stares up at the heavens, but his gaze is trained on the moon. The bright, hard, cold moon.
It is, after all, his namesake.
I watch him as he stares, eyes vacant as if thinking or remembering or. . . just getting lost in the sky. Snowflakes lie unmelted on his hair and coat the tips of his wings. His wings are beautiful, you know; I have always suppressed the desire to touch them, to run my hands over the feathers. Something always held me back.
But the snow is falling like stars, and he is beautiful under his moon, and my hands don't want to hold back any longer.
I run them along the edge of the a wing, feeling the hard muscle and bone, and he turns his head towards me sharply. I know he is staring at me, now, with those deep eyes, but his wings are too lovely to break my vision from. I trail a finger up along his wing and down a feather. My gloveless hands are cold, here in Yuki's backyard, but I can't imagine touching him with something between us.
He has closed his eyes now, snowflakes gathering on his lashes, and I wonder what I should read into his expression. Boredom? Annoyance? "Get your hands the hell off me?" But the corners of his lips quirk up into a crescent smile, and I think maybe I should read. . .
Contentment.
And he suddenly grabs me and pulls me into his arms, into the pressure of his warm body. He feels like a fire on this cold December night, something that I want to burrow into and remain in. My hand is still on his wing, still lightly stroking the feather, and I feel his breath on my neck.
His hand wanders down my spine to the small of my back, and perhaps I ought to have read desire into his expression too. Because he is kissing me, and I am kissing him, and it is good. Not fast, not lustful, not overwhelmingly passionate. Slow and smooth and light like the falling star-snow, and something that I could draw out forever.
A sudden shift, and Yue is gone. Yuki starts when he realizes his position, and then he responds in the way I've always wished he would.
Then he goes farther and pulls me to the ground, into the foot of pure snow in his backyard, and I laugh as he swings his arm and makes a snow-angel. It's as if Yue is reminding me, "I am still here."
I wonder if he changed back to Yuki on purpose, if this is his way of matchmaking.
I like it, whatever it is, and I like the way that Yuki's hands have slipped underneath my jacket and are rubbing my chest through the sweater. I lean over and press my lips to his, and he smiles, his eyes like the snow that is like the stars.
I swear I can see the moon in their reflection.
:::can you see the crystals falling from the heavens?:::