apricari 𖥧

boy with lion's mane 𖥧

tw: mildly suggestive content

𖥧𖥧𖥧

Lian cushions his swears with laughter, like a man terrified of his anger. People are either a string of fireworks, or a ticking time bomb. Two poisons and I don’t know which to pick.

‘They’re cool as a cucumber but when they do get angry—’ I don’t know if I should be terrified of Lian either.

‘Why didn’t you fucking come to me?’ Lian laughs and chucks his froggy pillow off the couch. ‘Com’ere!’ My stomach flutters as he scoops me into his arms, my thighs straddling his lap as his lips find mine.

The pink of his tongue swipes at my bottom lip and I snort out a ugly laugh. ‘Tickles,’ I say, pursing my lips. Lian flashes me a smile before swooping for another taste. ‘Mm, sweet baby.’

Eyes like autumn with summer at the seams. They crinkle with mirth and warm me up like dewy sunbeams. But the sun is too warm to gaze at sometimes. So I find myself counting daisies in the teardrop of his chest.

‘Look at me?’ Lian’s plea is a murmur against my cheek, so I follow. Soft lips suck the air out of my lungs, teeth and tongue make my toes curl. I sink into the sloppy sounds that once made my skin crawl, let my mind cloud with his sighs.

I’m worrying the wool of his cardigan. (Patchwork with red mushrooms. Something Lian whines about all day, how he doesn’t like red but has sworn to wear it out.) When his hands slip under my shirt, ‘Wouldn’t know you’re this needy if I didn’t see your face, darling.’

‘Sorry.’ My tongue trembles, too distracted by his artist fingers splaying against my ribs. Lian tuts but squishes his nose against my cheek, ‘My baby is smart enough to know that’s not what I meant.’

I swallow my whine when Lian cradles my jaw, latch onto his arms when he pecks me between my brows and coos, ‘Good boy.’

‘You’re sweating.’ Before I’ve finished phrasing the rhetorical subreddit post, Lian’s voice cracks. ‘Are you sure this is the right head, Theo?’

‘Want me to bite yours, Lian?’

Lian doesn’t miss a fucking beat and waggles his brows. ‘Which?’ It’s goofy, it’s godawful, and I want to throw a punch to his ferret belly.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Lian’s laugh crashes over me like waves. Familiar hazel eyes shimmering between the gaps of his bejeweled fingers. Dainty resin rings.

‘Feisty.’ He ‘kiths’ my nose and leans in till our foreheads touch, his fingertips brushing against the skin of my nape. ‘But is this okay with you?’

‘I don’t want to strip.’ I say after what feels like ages.

Lian is treading on eggshells now. ‘Do you want a little coaxing, or?’

I shake my head, ears throbbing, like I’m strapped to the backseat with Dad on wheel. ‘Some— Some other time, please? Sorry.’

‘Hey.’ Lian’s voice suddenly flatlines. ‘Thank you for telling me this.’ I heard him , and my mind & heart races each other till one is sure to run off the rails. ‘Love, look at me?’ Lian almost sounds angry. ‘I've not consented to hurting you. Okay?’

Lian bores into me and I feel something akin to a moth on a pin. ‘Okay.’

The sigh he let’s out is one of disappointment. But then he tucks his pendant out of the way to cocoon me to his chest, with my tears and snot and all that yucky things they don’t show on TV.

The fire fizzles out, but the warmth lingers.

I’ve only daydreamt of moments this. Of somebody’s body molding around mine, of patience so enduring it makes you lose sense of space and time. Daydream because I don’t  get to dream, where things feel at least half as real.

‘Sorry.’

Lian combs my sticky mess of curls, fingers weaving through the tangles like it’s a hobby. ‘Try again?’ He kisses the crown of my head and I can hear him smile into it.

‘Thank you.’ The wool of his cardigan scratches my face. ‘Lovers usually fall out over things like this.’

‘Lovers usually fuck. Do you hate it when I say that?’ I must’ve looked dumb because he reiterates. ‘Fuck‚ Theo. Do you hate it when I say the f-word?’

I scrunch my nose at him, ‘I’m not a child, Lian’ I sulk just like one.

Lian scoffs, but his eyes are soft when he wiggles those darned goofy brows. ‘Then, does it turn you on?

I punch his arm. Somehow that vexes me more than being holier-than-thou ‘thou shalt not swear’ prude, and makes me giggle at the same time. ‘It stumps me.’

‘Stumps you.’ Lian quirks a smile, teasing.

‘You are different?’

‘Oh, yeah?’ It does sound smug, like one of us is The Hot Shit and the other a dimwit with a love letter. But Lian’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at my corny words.

‘You don't make me feel like— like I’m in a car with someone drunk on the wheel.’ Too soon. Maybe I should wash my mouth out with soap.