Moon Flower

In the hopes of creating a cure, Madam Langley sent Azriel and Galen on an errand that afternoon back to the fields, but this time by a horse-drawn tram and with the twins in tow—he wasn’t sure if it was purposeful or not—to try and locate some Dragon’s Blood.

Their search proved fruitless, as did Madam Fairborn’s in procuring any seeds from her many sources, according to Azriel; some of those sources sounded quite disreputable, but who was Galen to question their work?

For his part, he mostly felt helpless, so he tried to assist in any way he was needed, even if it was to have the lads sit for a portrait to help them refocus and bring them some joy. Madam Langley seemed to appreciate the likeness he’d drawn for her of Madam Fairborn, if her rosy cheeks were any indication.

That evening, after everyone had gone to sleep, Azriel was at it again, pacing and agonizing, wearing a path in the room.

Galen motioned for Azriel to join him, but he continued to be on edge even as he sank down beside him. No amount of whispered words or pressed shoulders seemed to assuage his restlessness. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course.” He sighed. “Sometimes, I…I just wish we could be alone to speak freely, to do as we please without prying eyes. Or ears, for that matter.”

Galen made a decision right then and there that would hopefully calm Azriel’s racing thoughts and bring them both some peace. He put his finger to his lips and slipped out of bed. Reaching for Azriel’s hand, Galen urged him to follow, and when Azriel didn’t question his motives, he knew he’d chosen the right thing to do. They padded into the hallway, then went to the last room, the one they’d shared with Mr. Blackburn; after everything that had transpired, that now seemed ages ago…

They hadn’t discussed Mr. Blackburn’s absence, but they could no longer continue to live vicariously through him. Galen was afraid he’d allowed the man to put romanticized notions in his head regarding his future. But it would take too much effort to raise his defenses again, and besides, he didn’t want to, not with Azriel.

He placed the oil lamp on the table beside the pot of blooming white lilies, then tugged Azriel toward the bed, where they sat down beside each other. Azriel looked so enticing right then, with his lip between his teeth, the shyness back in his features. His nightshirt was askew and hanging off his shoulder, the skin looking so supple that Galen had to lean forward and gently kiss it.

Azriel shivered, feathering his fingers over Galen’s jaw. “Do you think perhaps…” His eyes filled with an angst Galen hadn’t seen before. “Could what Madam Langley said about us be true?”

“I don’t know,” Galen admitted. “It certainly feels that way. But does it matter?”

“Well, surely it matters.” Azriel shifted uncomfortably. “It would mean we could finally—”

“But maybe we would anyway,” Galen replied, putting his thoughts of the past few days into words. “Certainly not everything is left to chance. For all we know, Joseph and Cecil found each other again and are perfectly happy in different circumstances.”

A smile touched Azriel’s lips. “I daresay…I like that idea.”

“I do as well,” Galen replied, matching his grin.

Azriel suddenly stood and walked the few steps to the sideboard. He plucked a blossom from the lily, and before Galen could decipher his intention, he was standing in front of him and carefully placing the flower behind Galen’s ear. “I choose you.”

Galen’s heart swelled, and he didn’t think he could properly breathe. He forced his legs to stand and move. He plucked his own blossom from the flower, then slid it behind Azriel’s ear. “And I choose you.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he reached his hands out to entangle their fingers. His aura was pulsing now, the bright magenta the most prominent color, and Galen finally recognized it for what it was, realizing now that it only showed clearest when in each other’s presence.

“You are my beloved,” Azriel said, and Galen’s eyes grew misty.

“And you, mine.”

Azriel stepped closer. “Can you…”

“Anything,” Galen replied dreamily. “Anything at all.”

“Kiss me.”

He wasted no time pressing his lips against Azriel’s as his fingers burrowed in his hair. Their tongues tangled, their groans increasing in tempo as they kissed for an eternity. Galen felt like he was flying.

Their lips tender, their cocks protruding against their nightshirts, they undressed each other, but this time was different because it was only the two of them. No audience, no commanding voices, the aperture remained closed, and it felt…real and beautiful and profound.

Galen sank down on the bed, then drew Azriel toward him, to lie on top. Their lips met again as their pricks slotted together, making them both moan. Azriel wiggled closer and rutted against him, creating the perfect conflagration of friction and pressure, and Galen loved it, loved this intimacy.