A/N: Written for 100quills, Luna/Zacharias, prompt blind.
i can be your disability
If Luna shuts her eyes, she can pretend she's blind. When she closes her eyes all she can see is the massive plethora of electric colors behind her eyelids, which is nothing at all except light. She can pretend she's one of the elderly on the street who walk around with a stick held out in front, swinging it around, wondering what's in front of her, back of her, side of her—
(—Zacharias, of course.)
"Open your eyes," he says, as they are sprawled out on her porch, a blown-out dandelion settled in between their too-close bodies (she wished for a breeze, he wished for her leg to get off of his).
"I won't," she whispers, and leans forward, her eyes still shut, to see what she'll collide with.
It turns out to be his hands, reaching out for her, but she gropes for his wrists and holds them down, a gesture that says you are mine right now. Concentrating on just the space in front of her she tilts her chin up and feels her nose buried in the hollow of his throat—that warm, concave space that she has found treasure in so many times.
She smiles.
"That tickles," he complains, breathless as her light fingertips brush the insides of his arms. She says nothing. She plans on being mute, as well.
Over the course of her next fifteen minutes, she is disabled, but that doesn't mean she can't love him like she does. Using her tongue, she finds the path from the shell of his ear to his collarbone. With her foot she finds his, and they tangle: a game of footsie that isn't really a game because her toes dance on his calf, now, and his knee…
"Luna," he gasps, as her hand snakes over his chest and stomach, as her foot caresses his bare skin, "Luna—"
She slides herself over him so that they are face-to-face and she kisses his eyes his nose his cheeks, and his mouth, so sweet and full. Being blind has never before enthralled Luna so much. Before, it was just feel the water feel the dirt feel the ladybug on your arm but now it's feel this, Luna, feel him.
When his eyelashes flutter over her eyes they snap open and she's cured, cured of all her disabilities because she can see and he's just made her mumble words that don't even make sense (something along the lines of Zacharias, mmmm, please do that again, but even she's not sure). Because he makes her alive, disabled or not.
If Luna shuts her eyes, she can pretend she's blind. If she shuts her throat she can pretend she's mute. If she shuts her ears she can pretend she's deaf (but she wants so badly to hear him anyway). She can shut everything, she can turn everything off. But the light behind her eyelids will move, and the vibrations in her throat will suffer, and her pulse will beat beat beat. Because it's him, it's him, it's him making the blood in her veins flow, making the faith in her head blow, making her senses slow, slow…slow.