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Jeramie whispers to himself, “Well now, this is a bit troubling.”
Gira blinks. He sinks deeper into the bed; pillows dot the huge bed (courtesy of Jeramie for he ever so enjoys hiding under a large pile of pillows, Gira notes fondly. And he does nothing to dissuade his lover’s habit at all) and his gaze tracks after Jeramie as he paces haphazardly in Gira's bedroom.
Jeramie's snow-white hair is loose, branching out messily. His cheeks are flushed like ripe fruits and Gira is suddenly filled with the need to bite his lover’s soft cheeks just to see what kind of ridiculous reaction Jeramie might show him.
Gira puts those thoughts aside for now as he has a far more important matter to deal with right now.
“What is?” Gira asks, confused.
At that question, Jeramie stops pacing. He blinks once before his eyes find Gira. This time, the flush on Jeramie's cheeks gets even redder and he quickly shifts his gaze away to the twin windows on the far right, perhaps embarrassed at being caught mumbling his thoughts aloud.
The white curtains undulate gently. The sunbeam is kissing Jeramie’s skin softly.
It only takes him a second to realize that Jeramie is wearing nothing but Gira’s white shirt; his fair thighs are covered in red bite marks and Gira has the decency to blush at that.
I left those bite marks, Gira thinks, embarrassed. And then feels silly about it. Jeramie had begged so sweetly for me to- the young king clears his throat, cheeks still red.
Gira is so close to covering his face with his hands and hiding away under the blankets because, truthfully, this is what Jeramie is doing to him. Gira stashes away the image of Jeramie being so needy for him for now. That's for another time.
Now, however…
“Jeramie? Is something wrong?” Gira questions, glad his voice doesn’t waver.
He reaches out one hand towards Jeramie, intending for his lover to take it. Gira waits as Jeramie stares at the offered hand for a moment before the other sighs and relents eventually. Jeramie takes Gira’s hand and abruptly dips into the bed. He moves to Gira’s side until they're huddled close enough for Gira to wrap his arms around Jeramie, sparing a kiss on Jeramie’s temple.
Gira draws Jeramie closer until there's barely a space between them. Jeramie takes the opportunity to rest his cheek on Gira’s shoulder, his snow-white hair is touching Gira’s chin. Gira smiles. It's taken them quite a while to get here: being so fiercely in love with each other and having the privilege to show it.
There's a lingering silence in the room.
Gira realizes Jeramie hasn't said a word. That's so unlike him.
“Jeramie?” Gira mutters his lover's name tenderly.
The younger king plays with those soft white strands amicably. Gira feels Jeramie flinch before he tries to play it off as nothing if his sudden false smile is any indication. Gira can tell, however.
“What’s wrong?” Gira asks, almost pleading. He wishes to erase whatever it is that's troubling the other like this.
Jeramie is quiet for a moment. Gira waits. And his patience is paid off when he finally feels Jeramie stir in his hold. Jeramie glances at him and looks away before he looks at Gira again. Jeramie bites his lower lip and Gira is assaulted with the need to kiss his beloved until Jeramie is breathless.
Gira doesn't act on his desire.
“I just…” Jeramie stops. Inhales. Then he resumes, “Is it... the… the hair… are you...?” Jeramie waves unceremoniously at his snow-white hair.
Gira blinks, even more confused than before. The hair? What's wrong with it?
“Is something wrong with it?” it's unclear what Jeramie is truly referring to so Gira can only observe Jeramie, bemused.
Jeramie opens his mouth to say something but in the end, he only lets out a small sigh. “Never mind, it's nothing,” Jeramie mumbles.
“No. Tell me,” Gira says. He gets on top of Jeramie, bereft of his shirt and only in his trousers. Gira traps Jeramie underneath his weight and playfully rains an onslaught of kisses on Jeramie's face.
Jeramie giggles, ticklish. The giggle gets louder when Gira begins to nip at the spot under his left ear, languidly settling himself between Jeramie's knees and moving his lips upward until Gira can spare more kisses on Jeramie's ears and shoulders.
Jeramie finally laughs when Gira bites at his chin playfully, fingers glossing over Jeramie's exposed hips after their little skirmish. “Alright, fine, I'll tell you,” Jeramie says, chuckling when Gira's finally stopped his teasing.
Gira’s mouth forms into a small smile. “That's what I thought,” he teases.
Jeramie smiles some more but slowly the smile gets smaller as Jeramie runs his fingers across his white hair hesitantly. Once, twice, thrice, and-
And suddenly Gira understands.
Such a simple thing and it takes a lot longer than it should for Gira to understand.
Hymeno has said the side effect is permanent after Jeramie has removed the crystal of eternal life. Nothing can be done about it. I think we should be grateful his hair changing color is the only side effect Jeramie has to deal with, she has added reassuringly.
“It doesn't bother me.” Gira breaks the silence. “Your hair? It doesn't bother me at all and it's like stars are living in your hair. You look absolutely beautiful like always,” Gira says honestly. “You're the most beautiful thing in the world to me, Jeramie.”
Jeramie blinks at him, surprised. A moment later, a small smile graces his lips. Affection blossoms in his eyes. “Well now, did you somehow manage to read between the lines after all?”
Gira laughs. “I'm not so sure. But I tried. You know I always try my best when it comes to you.”
The young king leans forward to kiss the top of Jeramie's head. The hair feels so soft against his lips.
He allows his lips to rest there a second longer before Gira finally cups Jeramie’s cheeks and brings their faces closer until he can finally claim Jeramie’s lips.
Gira kisses Jeramie softly. He tips Jeramie's head a little bit more so Gira can have a full taste of the sweetness hidden there; suck at the bottom lip once or maybe even twice, and Gira searches for more of that delicacy as his tongue juts forward to touch Jeramie's.
Gira runs his fingers in those white locks, plays with them gently, and feels the tingle of featheriness on his fingers. He loves how Jeramie’s hair feels against his skin.
Need more, Gira thinks and so he deepens the kiss. Jeramie lets out a pleased hum beneath him and grabs at Gira’s hair, taking just as much.
Gira is not sure how long they stay like that but once they finally, finally, break away from one another, Jeramie's lips are swollen and red, his eyes are glossy and his breaths are erratic and Gira feels a silly satisfaction at the display.
“Gira,” Jeramie breathes out. “Stop teasing me. If you want to take me, then take me. I'm still wet and loose from last time.”
Gira shudders at the want in Jeramie’s voice. So vivid and so shameless. He can feel how hard Jeramie is under him and it'll be so easy to just remove his trousers and bury himself inside Jeramie.
That's exactly what Gira intends to do.
“You know you only need to ask, Jeramie.” Gira kisses Jeramie once more.
And when Gira makes love to Jeramie again - slow and steady, muffled reassurances echoed in the room, and hushed whispers exchanged between lovers - he's seized with the impulse to carelessly blurt out, “We should get married.”
Gira’s hips stutter to a halt once he realizes what he's just said. His face and ears color. He still speaks before thinking, Gira laments.
Jeramie stares at him, dazed. And despite Gira being buried to the hilt deep inside him, Jeramie calmly replies, “Yes. Of course. Absolutely. Yes, Gira. Yes.”
And Gira thinks, Ah, I'm going to spend my entire life being in love with him.
Jeramie's white hair is carpeting the pillow. His cheeks are pinkish, his eyes are teary, and his lips mumble Gira’s name again and again. Jeramie looks up at Gira with a pair of burning eyes and it's like the whole summer dissolves within them and Gira is greedily drinking it all; the radiance and the golden glow and the tender warmth.
Gira loves Jeramie like he's the unrelenting sunlight and so Gira hopelessly melts for Jeramie and Jeramie alone.
“Gira, I'm yours,” Jeramie promises.
Yes. Without a doubt. Gira knows this. Jeramie is all his until their lives are extinguished.
Gira kisses Jeramie and he moves his hips again. Jeramie makes a soft noise and holds on tightly to Gira.
Well, if they're late to the next meeting between the kings, no one is complaining. Except for the president of N’Kosopa. But he'll live.
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