Zachary Ezra Rawlins still doesn't quite enjoy reading books. The books themselves he has no problem with; the rustle of pages turning, the soft scent of drying ink and parchment and printing press paper.
Unless it was Dorian reading to him.
"Once upon a time, Time fell in love with Fate."
He shivers and presses back into the touch, the warmth of the breath just next to his ear. Leather and lemon and tobacco and sweat. Dorian. Home.
"The stars feared that their love would disrupt the going-ons of the Universe and summoned the Moon to hear her standing on the matter. The Moon, in turn, summoned the Parliament of Owls, who overruled the Moon, and on a night when her light was absent from the sky, tore Fate to shreds. Centuries have passed since time flowing now as then. Occasionally, Fate pulls itself together again and Time is always there waiting."
Dorian led him back, step by step, and covers Zachary's eyes. His arm pins Zachary against him, back to chest, voice dark as melting chocolate and sweet as the honey-filled Starless Sea that brought them together. "The son of the fortune-teller stands before a door."
A curve of a warm smile colored the words. Painted brick to look like wood. Dorian's lips brush along the curve of his neck, the softest caress of the finest silks. Zachary Ezra Rawlins closes his eyes under Dorian's hand.
"Fate had painted it for him, adorning it with a Sword, a Bee, and a Key. A door leading to a Starless Sea made of honey-coated wishes and stories waiting to be told. He turned away from the door leading to the Heart of the Starless Sea. And the son of the fortune-teller does not find his way to the Starless Sea. Not yet.
Years pass and the son of the fortune-teller finds his way down to The Starless Sea along another path Fate had painted for him. Danger lurks from each corner and rooftop, shining lights in their eyes to distract them from their goal. Hand in hand with the new painter, Mirabel, although that name varies with each and every storyteller who tells the tale, the son of the fortune-teller finds his way back to the boy dressed in stars."
Zachary Ezra Rawlins felt what could be fingers run down his arm, but he couldn't be sure because being this close to Dorian tended to addle his senses just a little bit, like drinking a glass of the most perfectly balanced whiskey. Dorian continues on, and Zachary clings to every word.
"But the boy isn't yet dressed in stars. That bit of the story lurks and lingers in the creased dust motes that drift through the broken rays of sunlight and are occasionally bat at by the cats until the time comes for it to be told.
Golden dust and fractured promises stuck together with honey and the buzzing of the bees. The stars are painted to match the shades of their love, vibrant shades of reds and orange that match the setting sun on a Heart in a Harbor on a sea with no stars. And so the Bees pull the son of the fortune-teller and the boy dressed in stars out of the main story and into a side story, but one that is just as important, to find the man lost in time and to the girl who is not quite a girl, but not quite a rabbit either.
In an inn trapped somewhere between now and then, where the wind howls for the love it lost, the boy dressed in stars is given a heart and a sword, blessed by the moon herself."
In his mind's eye, Dorian's voice painted the story for him in every shade of them. Vibrant whites and yellows and blues.
"She had taken the night off to help guide this story where it needed to go and to see her husband in an inn lost between the pages of a book. The Bees tried to stop what the moon was doing, but who were they to get in the way of the moon? And so the boy dressed in stars and bearing a sword meant to slay the Owl King heads into the night to find his lost love."
Dorian's voice dropped, icing over and cold ran through Zachary when he stepped away, leaving him untethered and floating in the darkness.
"But Fate is a cruel mistress."
He let out a breath. Dizzy and completely attuned to the cadence of Dorian's voice. Intoxicated and addicted.
"The son of the fortune-teller lies in a pirate ship sailing the Starless Sea, listening to the Bees as they buzz and dances one last time with Fate, she still owed him a dance. The boy dressed on stars sits above him and gives him Fate's heart, hearing it beat sound.
"In the belly of a pirate ship sailing the Starless Sea, with a girl who is not quite a girl but not quite a rabbit either, the son of the fortune-teller and the boy dressed in stars finally begin their story."
Silence.
Zachary felt his anxiety spike when Dorian didn't go on, leaving him lingering on the edge of a cliff.
"The boy dressed in stars and the son of the fortune-teller stand in front of a door. Together, not apart."
There. He felt Dorian behind him, mouth leaving a tingling warmth against his and moved lower. Away.
"They stand in a moment with meaning. A moment that changes the moments that follow. The boy dressed in stars kneels, hoping against Time and Fate and the wind howling around the inn lost in space searching for lost love. He kneels down," a pause. An intake of breath. "And asks the son of the fortune-teller to marry him."
Zachary Ezra Rawlins' eyes snap open and lock with Dorian's.
Leather and lemon and tobacco and sweat.
His fingers close around Dorian's, voice a breathless and shared whisper.
"And the son of the fortune-teller says yes."