The Symphony of Shadow

22: 'Sapiosexuality'

Sapiosexual: A person who is sexually attracted to intelligent people.

A Z R I E L

He'd winnowed Gwyn away immediately, not even bothering to gather supplies they might need for their trip. Although, that was being spontaneous, after all, as was their little impromptu trip he'd suggested to Gwyn in attempts to clear the tension his discovering the mating bond created.

They arrived in the familiar conifer forest that he had envisioned to winnow to; Gwyn let go of his arm, still torn between being mad at him and forgiving him. The forest was dark despite the supposed brightness of midday, and damp. Rain droplets fell down from somewhere above; Azriel and Gwyn were slightly sheltered from where they stood beneath a particularly bushy conifer. The smell of the rain lingered around them too, a particular favourite scent of his.

"I like the smell of the rain," Gwyn announced; Azriel smiled knowingly. Her words were offhanded, spoken with a voice surprisingly calm, considering.

Azriel didn't reply, instead turned to her, yearning to admire her freckled face in this dark, sombre setting they'd found themselves in. Dark and bright – an oxymoron, but nevertheless, it worked. Her copper hair was beautiful against the dark of the green, her freckles still brought his favourite constellations down to earth for him to admire.

A single drop of rain – a particularly heavy one, which had fallen from a branch somewhere above – fell onto her face, right upon her cheekbone. It trailed down her skin like it was rolling down glass, racing away. Azriel brought up his thumb and wiped it away, letting the water remain on his skin so that it could dry, and a small, small piece of her life would be embedded on his skin.

He felt a soft thud on his head then, and Gwyn laughed quietly as another raindrop fell upon his hair, dropping to his forehead and splashing down to his eyelashes. It was an annoyance – wet and cold – but he didn't mind so long as he got to see her smile.

"I always found it immensely annoying that you males get the nicer eyelashes."

"We do?"

"Definitely. Thicker, darker, longer," she listed, then added, "don't make that into a dirty reference."

"How could I possibly make that into a dirty reference?"

"With your dirty, dirty mind."

He smiled. "I guess you make a bad influence."

"And how could I possibly be a bad influence?" She chuckled.

"You're the one reading the dirty, dirty books."

"Yet I'm innocent in experience."

"I wouldn't say so," Azriel said, with an ever so slight smirk as he remembered that night on the roof. And then, naturally, he forced himself to stop remembering, knowing that now would not be the best time to send that familiar rush of blood and heat to his groin.

"You wouldn't?" Gwyn frowned, as if she had forgotten. Nonetheless, her face quickly blushed, and her eyes snapped as she remembered – how they'd moved against one another, despite the fact that their clothes had remained on. Or at least, their lower garments had remained on. "Oh. That."

Silence rung between them.

"We still haven't discussed that... not since," she said, the blush deepening at her cheeks. She was clearly embarrassed. As was usual when with her, Azriel was almost certain that a similar blush also crept upon his own cheeks.

"We haven't," he confirmed.

"Did you... not like it?"

Azriel could have laughed, snorted, rolled his eyes. Instead he simply cupped either side of her porcelain jaw in his hands. He knew it was very likely that some sort of glee shone in his eyes as he spoke. "There is not an ounce of truth within that sentence, love."