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Soft.
His lips were soft.
Daylight barely seeped in from the curtains, the morning still young and starting. It was simply daybreak, and Veritas already found himself tending to the man next to him.
Swollen eyes and…not so sober. Intoxicated from the previous night's drinking session, which only involved Aventurine taking far too much than he could handle.
And now the blond man was filled with half drunken thoughts, unable to think straight. Did he really drink that much?
…well, yes. From Veritas’ judgment, the IPC member had indulged in more alcohol after waking. So essentially, he was drunk. Again. Before sleeping, and now after. It’s amazing how Aventurine hasn’t thrown up on the bed yet. There were used cups on the bedside table, the content in the wine bottle even less than it had been before they had both entered the land of slumber. Another piece of evidence for Veritas’ claims.
Aventurine murmured beneath every breath, how people would use him as they pleased. How people saw him simply as a pawn, and is why he had grown so used to being thrown around like a ragdoll. He had come to the realization long ago that he was seen as an object by society. And now he weeps because of it, wondering- am I deserving of love?
Deserving of love…
Veritas sighs. Even if he had not taken one sip of alcohol, it felt like he was the one with a headache, a hangover. The man knew well that the other would not understand his words, whether it be scolding or reassurance. Hence why, he was here- holding Aventurine’s face carefully, kissing him softly to get a silent message to be conveyed.
Veritas was never the touchy feely type. He found solace in solitude, the sounds of other people’s voices a mere distraction to him. It was odd to experience the feeling of one’s warmth against his own skin. Such feelings taught him more than words could ever convey. A mushy, fuzzy, annoying kind of feeling. A feeling that drives him to do the “illogical”, the only way Aventurine could listen to him even with a heavily clouded mind and conscience.
So he kisses him slowly, lovingly.
…
Soft.
His lips were soft.
A gasp leaves Aventurine, near panicked at the sudden boldness displayed by Veritas. It was so foreign. Normally, Aventurine would have to taunt him- bicker the life out of the scholar until one of them decides to take a step forward simply to prove a point. And usually, that was Aventurine. Usually, anyway. And that’s why he was so surprised to find Veritas’ lips on his own, locked in a tender kiss.
“...why did you…”
Gods, the look on his face. Pathetic, yet so…endearing.
“Mere words cannot reach your head. So I had to resort to more…drastic measures.”
He was catching his breath. Veritas still wasn't used to this aspect of his life.
So irritatingly entrancing. Why was the look on Aventurine’s face more intriguing than the books he’s read recently? The topics he’s studied the day before? The lessons he had taught previously? Why was Aventurine so damn captivating?
A portion of Veritas had hoped that one kiss would suffice. But a bigger part said otherwise. And it just so happened to be that way. Aventurine plopped his head onto the closest pillow, rolling over to lie on his stomach.
“I don’t understand. I thought you resented me. Many people do, that is why I am merely a pawn in this game called life…”
Veritas scoffs. The man was getting dramatic.
“You do not understand?” The scholar echoes back, “Even after my display of affection?”
“I don’t understand.”
Silence loomed over the two of them. One contemplating, the other basking in sorrow. Veritas brought his hand over to Aventurine’s shoulder, pushing him carefully to turn him over. The blond man groaned, but he complied anyway to the quiet urging of the scholar next to him. And he peered into his eyes- those brightly colored hues of purple, accented with a striking shade of teal around the pupil. Saturated, but undeniably beautiful. A contrast to his own wine red eyes, adorned with hints of gold.
It’s like their personalities were painted in them.
Confident, brimming with glamor.
Elegant, sophisticated and proper.
Veritas shakes his head, realizing he had been staring for much longer than he should be. He shouldn’t even be staring in the first place. This wasn't part of the plan. Why does Aventurine always disrupt his plans?
And yet he was not one bit mad about that.
Veritas lowered his head, connecting his lips with Aventurines in another chaste kiss. He wanted to kiss those worries goodbye. He wanted those messy, unnecessary fears to fade. He reminds himself that words would never reach an intoxicated mind. But actions can, and he will do everything until the other gives in and accepts the fact that he is in fact adored.
A muffled yelp leaves the drunken man, once again caught off guard by the actions done unto him. Veritas was so gentle, so careful to not break what fragile progress he had built to let Aventurine know his worth. The palm of Veritas’ hand had found the blond’s cheek, his thumb brushing over warm skin dusted with hues of pink. Aventurine found himself melting under the comfort of undivided attention, darkened thoughts being chipped away and put into a box to be discarded.
“A bit more.”
He whispers, having barely parted.
Aventurine yearns for more, lips grazing over Veritas’ own.
He was oh so selfish but he couldn’t help it. He wanted his love and he will do everything he can to get it. Hazy state of mind, only able to identify the gentle caress of the one he held dear. Veritas’ heart was clamoring loudly in the confines of his chest, set ablaze from the desire that had seeped through the labored breaths of his partner.
And so, he grants what the other had asked for.
“Another.”
And again,
“Please.”
And again,
“One last?”
And again.
Veritas felt lightheaded. It's like he had drunk the wine off of Aventurine’s lips, now filled with fuzzy murky thoughts. But he knew he was nowhere drunk on alcohol. Perhaps he was drunk on love, then. He pulled away slowly, in a daze, processing the current events slowly. A smile had crept up to Aventurine’s lips, a feeling of satisfaction settling in the pit of his stomach. It’s like affection had washed away what should've been- his body devoid of pain and nausea. All he could see in this haze was Veritas and his rosy cheeks, seemingly surprised with what had transpired. And the blond man laughs. He laughs a hearty laugh, filling the once empty room.
“Aeons, you should see the look on your face. You look stupid.”
Aventurine comments as he muses on the expression displayed upon Veritas’ features. And Veritas would see that his beloved’s smile had turned into a mocking smirk, taunting him to get on his nerves. So moody. One moment he was dreading over baseless thoughts, now he was teasing his lover. And he would almost scowl at this, eyeing the gambler up and down- until his eyes settled on his neck.
That damned serial code.
Veritas sighs. The black ink that had tainted Aventurine’s skin was so prominent. Displayed, marked, claiming Aventurine as if he were merely an object to be exploited off of. Many times did the doctor wish to erase its meaning, its presence as a whole. He frowns upon seeing the sight, more concerned if anything.
…he was a mess today too, it seemed. It wasn't just Aventurine. Somehow he had begun feeling more clingy, more needy of love. Having been avoiding such things for so long…maybe he had blocked out that feeling of yearning, maybe he had gotten so numb to it. But now that he's gotten a taste, even he, Veritas, such a level headed man- wanted to disregard everything and take what he had deprived himself of for so long.
A relationship, one that blossomed into sweet fragrance.
He wanted that same sweetness he had tasted to be shared with Aventurine. He wanted him to know what it felt like.
He’d overwrite what old scars held.
Before Aventurine could even react, Veritas already had his lips pressed to the tattoo on Aventurine’s neck. He was left speechless, stunned and silent from the sensation of warmth placed in a spot one would consider intimate to touch, intimate to even dare think about coming close to. He kissed him, firmly, lovingly, holding his face gently with his hands.
If Veritas’ intention was to let Aventurine know he was loved, then gods- he was doing it well.
Aventurine held his breath, unknowing that he even was doing such a thing. His body went stiff, eyes wide as soon as he realized the situation at hand. And the question returns to him- but why? Why would he do such a thing? And before he opens his mouth to speak, question and protest, he feels Veritas’ lips leaving the left side of his neck.
“Do not question it.”
The scholar states, his voice wavering unintentionally, making him sound weak- nervous and almost scared that he had miscalculated the situation.
“I am merely trying to alleviate you of your…internal conflicts, since you cannot seem to do so yourself.”
He doesn't sound very convincing. The redness of his face gave him away.
Aventurine only watches blankly, seeing Veritas shift in his spot to lie down, patting the pillow before resting his head on it. With a silent gesture, he beckons for the shorter male to come closer. He knew it was unlike him to do this. Maybe he was the drunk one after all. Perhaps this whole thing was a drunk man’s dream, but even if things played out so uncharacteristically on both ends- well, at least one thing was evident.
There was a sweet aftertaste after having indulged in one another, Aventurine finding himself curled up next to the scholar, linen sheets now pulled above their frames.
“...I think I understand now.”
Aventurine whispers quietly, his arms wrapped around Veritas. Being so close to him offered a sense of security, and that feeling was something he wanted to hold onto until he fell asleep.
“You do?” the scholar responds, “You understand my intentions?”
There was a soft, albeit lazy smile plastered on Aventurine’s lips, his gaze was filled with fondness, even in his half asleep state.
“All you wanted to tell me was that you loved me.”