If Tristan could try to explain the sensation of the touch…
It felt like a part of Alistair was seeping into his skin and flesh. It made him feel like he was not alone. He had been alone for so long. A strange thought came to him in that moment: touch was a different kind of heaven.
It was not like his garden in heaven.
His garden was beautiful and perfect, but it was empty. Even though He came to visit, it was not often. Moreover, He seemed to just vent about the things He had observed in heaven and on Earth.
It was also not a true interaction because Tristan could not really see Him. It was a presence that encompassed the Garden when He visited. It was like hearing a voice reverberating in his head.
The feeling of being in Alistair's apartment was different, especially when he touched him. He did not know he could crave something he never had before. But he did not want Alistair to stop touching him.
It felt so warm, and he knew warmth. His Garden did not have day and night. It was always bright and perfect. It would even change to fit his comfort. He could not fault the design of the Garden.
It was a masterpiece in its conditions.
Yet, he could not miss it when Alistair was touching him. He wondered how it would feel to be held wholy in his arms. Perhaps, Alistair would even cocoon him in his dark wings and hide him from the tainted world.
Tristan was startled by the thought.
How could he think that the wings of the first fallen would hide him from the tainted world? If anything, the darkness of Alistair's wings was evidence of his sins. It was a testament of his rebellion.
Moreover, Tristan had tasted his blood and knew of the taint in it. It was nothing like his own. Well, he did not know how his blood tasted since he had never been injured, but he was sure it was nothing like that.
His thoughts confused him. He never has to think about anything apart from the stories He told him and how to make the garden more beautiful. Most of the time, his head would be empty as he frolicked in the meadows or floated on the River of Life.
Perhaps, he needed to stop thinking too much about things he did not understand. With that thought, he focused again on Alistair, trying not to feel the warmth from the large hands resting on his thighs.
Luckily, his brain supplied a mindless topic to distract him.
"I have not heard you sing," Tristan said even though his breath felt like it was caught in his throat. It was one of the things that He mentioned about Morning Star with as much nostalgia as a powerful being could summon.
When He spoke of Morning Star and his singing, it seemed more than missing the praise the fallen angel had lavished upon Him. It was like missing a beloved child or close friend. There was also a tinge of disappointment, even when the words were positive.
"What?" Alistair was a little distracted to follow the conversation as he tightened his hold on those thighs. He could feel the flesh beneath the angelic clothing. He wished he could run his hands directly over what he was sure was smooth skin.
In addition, his mind was a little clouded with the scent of the angel in his arms. Was it possible for someone to smell of cinnamon and vanilla cookies as well as sunshine? He pulled Tristan closer and pressed his nose against the crown of the golden hair and took a deep breath.
It felt cathartic.
Alistair was not used to denying himself. Therefore, he would not begrudge himself the sweet smell of the angel when he was in his arms. After that whiff, Alistair wished he could just eat Tristan up there and then.
It was a twisted desire that blended with the need to protect Tristan from the world and ensure no harm came to him. His needs for possession and protection rivalled each other, and he had no idea how to reconcile them.
"Are you smelling me?" Tristan asked, squirming in his arms. Alistair moved his arms from the thighs to Tristan's delicate waist to keep him in place. He was afraid that Tristan would feel his less-than-innocent reaction if he kept writhing against him.
It was already difficult enough to keep himself in control. Still, he could not resist
"Mmmh, you smell delicious," Alistair responded without a hint of shame while his strong arms tightened around the delicate waist. "If you keep moving around, I will forget my manners and eat you up right now."
Tristan was confused for a moment before he understood, as he felt the evidence of exactly how Alistair planned to eat him up against his stomach. The weight was heavy and hard, even with his clothes covering him.
He was ignorant of the practical issues, but the knowledge of human reproduction had been imparted to him. He had asked about it when He complained about overpopulation on earth and exhaustion of resources.
While angels could not reproduce, he did not know about fallen angels. Perhaps, they had the capacity to do so. Either way, he was not ready to find out from the first fallen what he planned to do.
He quickly pushed Alistair away with the hand that was not holding the phone. He was not under the illusion that he managed to move the larger man with his own strength. Rather, Alistair reluctantly let him go despite the predatory look in his eyes.
"You should put on some clothes," Tristan said, looking away and focusing on the phone again to hide his red face.
Alistair's eyes softened at the human reaction, and he lightly touched the golden halo of hair before walking to the bedroom. He could not believe himself as he dropped the towel once he entered the closet to dress.
He chuckled as he chose comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. He could not believe he was accommodating someone in his domain. But when he thought of that angelic face with the red cheeks, he knew that it was just the beginning.