Chapter Text
“ Sitting at the bed with a halo at your head
Was it all a disguise, like junior high?
–
Did you get enough love, my little dove?
Why do you cry?
–
And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best
Though it never felt right.”
– Fourth of July || Sufjan Stevens
Things had unrolled unexpectedly well, in Caelus’s opinion. Upon answering all of those long, ethical questions, the mastermind behind perhaps one of the worst attempts at ‘peace’ had been placated into actually discussing Penacony’s future. He wasn’t sure what had made Sunday suddenly change his mind. Perhaps the man had just been crashing out so hard that the smallest hint of validation had seemingly steered him back down the intended path, so to speak.
He wondered if it had been the answers to the first two questions, perhaps Caelus’s blind faith in humanity upon hearing a desperate man’s plea on behalf of his imaginary children had struck a chord with the winged man. Maybe it was that he’d answered in support of Robin’s actions, even after a near-death experience, she still wished to bring peace to a warring planet with her song. Though Caelus didn’t have any siblings, he couldn’t have imagined stopping Dan Heng or March from pursuing their dreams and goals, despite being put in harm's way.
Though it was likely the answer he’d given to the third and final question that had been the nail in the proverbial coffin.
Birds belonged to the sky. Of course, that was true, and yes, they deserved freedom amidst wind and dandelion seeds and fluffy silver clouds. They also deserved life, even if in a cage; at least it would be the best life they could’ve lived while shackled to the ground. That baby charmony dove, with its ailing body and flickering life, deserved to be loved and nourished and held in gentle hands. It deserved a life free of agony, even if for a fleeting moment. All things did.
And he’d said all of that, right to the man’s face.
He’d looked shaken, perhaps for the first time since Caelus had met him. Like all of the beliefs he’d carried were suddenly dispersed in a gust of wind, and scattered to the heavens.
Then, his porcelain face had shifted, and a small smile broke across his features, disrupting the hard certainty that had settled there long ago. Caelus couldn’t help but to find warmth in that smile, even as a flicker of something excruciating burned in those startling golden-indigo eyes.
“So, that’s that,” March said, hands on her hips as they stood in the hotel’s lobby. They’d woken from Penacony’s Revery a few hours ago, and had congregated here to wait for everyone else. “I was kind of surprised that Sunday agreed to an actual discussion, in the end.”
“It was certainly a turn of events,” Dan Heng agreed with a nod. “Though, I get the feeling he just needed something inescapable to happen, something to force his hand against his initial plan and beliefs.”
“Like an excuse?” March asked with her head tilted, brows furrowed.
“Exactly.” Welt agreed, walking up to them with Himeko in tow. “Dan Heng isn’t far off. Sunday had been hesitant about the course of events for a while, but being a man of faith, he had clung to the Path of Order stubbornly.”
“Yeah, he seemed like a control freak.” Caelus supplied, crossing his arms.
“How delicately you put things, Caelus,” March responded blandly, her face set into a deadpan stare.
“So, what happens to Penacony now?” Dan Heng asked Himeko and Welt, always the person to mediate March and Caelus, meaning he didn’t entertain their bullshit.
“Only good things, we’re promised.” Himeko began, and Caelus couldn’t even pretend to fully understand the political speak she was distributing to all of them. He’d have to ask Dan Heng for a more concise summarization of it later on, because she’d lost him after talking about some old guy named Oaty of the Oat Family or something like that.
A chirping caught his attention. The soft fluttering of wings overhead drew his gaze skyward to a small bird fluttering down to the shrubbery nearby. Abandoning the conversation entirely for the sake of his curiosity, Caelus walked quietly up to the place of the bird’s descent. Amidst green leaves and rich earth sat a beautiful little dove. Its feathers caught the light like stained glass, casting reflections of color onto the earth nearby as it pecked delicately at the ground.
Deciding to put his birdly charm to use, Caelus snuck up and chirped quietly at the little bird. He didn’t want to catch it, would never put the little creature through something so traumatizing. He just wanted to see if it would come to him with trust. The little bird looked up, finding him immediately among the foliage as he peered down at it from above. When it didn’t spook and fly off, Caelus doubled down, standing a respectable distance from it as he chirped. It returned his attention; its chirps much more harmonious than his, floating through the air like the sound of bells in the summer breeze.
Caelus extended a hand, slow and careful, and watched as the little dove bounced away at first, cautious of the proffered touch until he stopped and waited patiently. The fluffy creature hopped back towards him, pecking softly and curiously at his fingertips and tugging at the fingerless gloves he wore. He couldn’t help but smile down at the charming little bird, remaining still for its observation. Then, with a tiny leap of faith, the bird hopped up into his palm, resting its meager weight in his hand as it pecked and tugged at the fabric of its gloves.
Feeling accomplished, Caelus raised the bird up to his eye level and chirped at it quietly, watching as it turned to face him and sang its beautiful little song with curiosity.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Asked a voice from behind him, Caelus would have to have short-term memory loss not to know who it was before he turned around.
Sunday stood, his shoulders and back straight and refined, one arm pressed to his back while the other hung at his side, that same reserved pose he’d carried since Caelus crashed into Penacony on his first day. The man stepped closer, but kept a wide enough berth so as not to crowd Caelus. His silver hair caught the light, illuminating behind his head like a metaphorical halo atop his golden one, doubling the saintly demeanor of the man.
“They are,” Caelus agreed easily, looking back at the little bird, which had stopped to eye the new person just as Caelus had. “This is my first time seeing one.”
“Were there none in the Revery?” Sunday asked, confusion evident in his tone.
Caelus hummed, raising his other hand to delicately pet the soft fluff on the bird’s head. It chirped and pecked at his finger playfully, making him smile. “Even if there were, I didn’t really have the time to stop and observe.” Even so, many of the amazing things he’d seen here were cast in a dark light, amidst ‘death’ and the end of a world. It’s hard to take in the beauty around you.
A pregnant pause passed between them, and Caelus could hear Sunday shifting behind him, as if nervous.
“That’s a shame. There are so many beautiful things here.” Sunday finally said, walking over to stand next to Caelus. The gray-haired man looked up at him, curious about the strange tone of his voice.
“I don’t doubt that,” The other replied, watching as the bird looked at Sunday curiously, head tilting this way and that as it chirped. “If I had more time here, maybe I’d get to see.”
Another pause. Sunday regarded him for a moment and held his hand out. Caelus almost thought it was being offered to him, until the little bird hopped over to the new touch to peck at some seed in the man’s hand. Caelus blinked, curious about the fact that the other seemingly carried bird seed on him at all times. As if there were always a hungry little dove to feed from his palm. Caelus’s hands hung empty in the air for a minute as he watched the bird get comfortable, feeding on the seed and chirping happily.
“I hear that there are still some ends to tie up for your fellow Nameless. The fate of Penacony no longer rests in my hands, as is best.” He explained briefly. So the man had turned power over to another, likely that Oat guy Himeko had mentioned. “So, if you would like, I can provide a better opportunity to experience Penacony’s beauty.” Caelus blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the other to offer such a thing, especially not after the fate of said planet’s beauty had hung in the balance between this man’s very scales.
“Of course, I understand the trouble I have caused you.” Sunday continued, a complex expression worrying his face into quiet sadness. “The fact that you hadn’t fully experienced the Revery was entirely my fault, after all. So, I suppose I simply wish to amend this issue, and hope that you’ll consider taking me up on my offer.”
Caelus watched his expression, and when the man looked up to meet his gaze, he found his eyes trailing down to the little dove. That golden gaze was almost as intense as the sun. He watched as the dove ate the last of its seeds, and nuzzled the man’s thumb with an appreciative chirp, before taking flight into the air to rejoin its companions.
“I’ve been offered worse,” Caelus relents, looking back to Sunday with a lopsided grin. “You are the true Penacony expert, after all. Mr. Head of The Family.” It was true, he’d been offered far, far worse experiences than a tour around a dream crafted to fit everyone’s ideal lives and interests.
Sunday met Caelus’s peculiar demeanor with a relieved smile, nodding as he dropped his hand back to his side. “I’ll meet you in the dream, then.”
Caelus’s grin fell to a softer smile, and he nodded, putting his hands on his hips. “Sure, can’t wait.”
“Woah,” Caelus gasped, looking out over the city breathlessly. They stood on a rooftop, gazing at the city skyline as dawn crested the buildings and horizon, painting half of the sky in gold and pink. In the whole time Caelus had been in Penacony, he couldn’t remember seeing the sun, so the city cast in warm light was so different. There were still stars in the sky, gently falling to the horizon in silvery trails as the sun slowly eclipsed their light.
“This is one of the best places to see the sunrise,” Sunday hummed from beside him. Over the last few hours they’d spent in the Revery, the uneasy distrust between them had dispersed into a mutual camaraderie, and they now stood side by side, sharing each other’s warmth in the rising sun.
“No kidding,” Caelus agreed breathlessly. Staring quietly at the scenery as soft, puffy clouds warped with varying colors, casting illuminated shadows across the city. Light worked very differently in Penacony. Caelus held up his empty bottle of SoulGlad, turning it in the sun’s rays, and watched as it bent the light into concentrated hues. The rainbows danced across the floor and on Caelus’s clothes, twisting up his form. He watched them climb up Sunday’s lighter clothing, satisfied that they looked much brighter than on his dark grey jacket, and watched them illuminate his silvery hair. The wings on the man’s neck fluttered briefly, showcasing the way the silvery feathers captured the light in similar little auroras.
Caelus blinked, looking at the way Sunday’s hair lit up in the rising warm sun. It was brighter now, capturing the rainbows and looking just like the clouds floating over the city.
“Is something wrong?” Sunday asked, breaking Caelus out of the thoughtful stare he’d been considering the man with. Blinking, he shook his head, but found he couldn’t look away from the other’s gaze.
“Nothing,” He replied honestly, watching the man as he smiled. Something Caelus didn’t recognize flashed in the sharp indigo pupils. “Are there any other places like this one?”
Sunday smiles, as if knowing the other would ask, and nods his head. “I know of many places. Follow me.”
Caelus did as he was told, following behind the man as they walked along rooftops, through closed-off little gates and passages that the average vacationer or Penaconian wouldn’t know of.
“Close your eyes,” Sunday instructed at the end of an alley, with buildings enclosing them on both sides, rising so high Caelus could hardly see the sky. With only a moment of consideration, Caelus did as instructed and closed his eyes. Once again, his curiosity won out over any common sense he probably should’ve had when being led into a deserted place by someone who’d threatened the world.
A gloved hand found his. Gentle and cautious, Sunday picked his hand up from his side and gave a gentle tug, guiding the grey-haired man along blindly.
They weren’t walking for very long, but Caelus could tell they’d stepped out of the alley when the warm sun hit him instead of the cool shadows they’d walked in just moments before. A breeze swept his hair, tickling his cheeks and his nose as it carried the distant noise of the city into his ears.
“Alright, open your eyes.” Sunday finally said, dropping Caelus’s hand once they’d reached their destination. Caelus’s eyes squinted open, having to readjust to the bright light as he blinked rapidly. When they finally adjusted, he looked at his surroundings and found his breath catching in his chest. Taking a step forward, he rotated in a circle, sweeping his gaze slowly around.
It was a giant greenhouse, with walls made entirely of glass, clear and in all different colors and textures. They arched high into a domed ceiling, the wire frame twisting into curls akin to vines and foliage.
“This was one of my favorite places to visit as a kid,” Sunday hummed, smiling up at the ceiling and down at the lush greenery filling the flower boxes, then over to Caelus, who’d turned to look at the man as he spoke.
“It’s…” Caelus turned to look again, trying to think of a quick quip to give the man, but his mind drew a blank as his breath was stolen again. “Beautiful.”
Sunday hummed in agreement, nodding as he watched Caelus closely, observing the way he spun in another circle, trying to drink in all of the scenery around him. “It is.”
When next Caelus turned, Sunday was closer, leaving only a few inches between them. He blinked up at the man, watching as wind breezed through the open doors on both sides of the greenhouse to sweep his hair, making it dance like feathers. The wings on the man’s neck fluttered a little, shaking the feathers in the ticklish breeze. Caelus found himself reaching up, insatiable curiosity drawing his fingers to the silver feathers. They were soft, softer than that charmony dove he’d held the night before. He wondered if Sunday washed them with a special soap, or how he cleaned them, period.
“There is a special soap, a conditioner. I also have to preen them while they’re drying, otherwise they get itchy and uncomfortable.” Sunday explained, and it was only then that Caelus realized he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.
“Oh,” Caelus said dumbly, his cheeks burning with a blush he refused to acknowledge. He couldn’t bring himself to stop touching the other’s wings, though. The man was letting him, after all, so there likely was no harm in entertaining his curiosity.
Sunday stood patiently, allowing the other to touch and pull gently at the wings, feeling his warm fingers thread through them. Caelus drew one finger over the tips of the feathers, watching as the wing shuddered and flapped as if it’d been tickled. Sunday’s cheeks were dusted pink, so Caelus decided he should probably leave the man be. That is, until he noticed a sparkle of metal on the wing, and was drawn back in. He stood up on his tip toes, leaning in for a better look at the little bronze spikes pierced through the wing. He blinked, more questions filling his head.
Upon leaning in just a little more, he lost his balance and began to topple forward. Steadying hands caught him, yet his face fell into the man’s shoulder regardless.
“Sorry,” Caelus mumbled into the man’s clothes, drawing back with the other’s help. The hands on his hip and shoulder steadied him as he wobbled back into place. His cheeks burned in embarrassment.
“No worries,” Sunday reassured quietly. He was so close now that his warm breath hit Caelus’s cheeks, lighting them ablaze further as he looked up, nearly cross-eyed into rich ichor eyes.
The concentrated light filtering in through the stained glass painted Sunday’s porcelain skin in hues of red and blue, and Caelus couldn’t help but notice how the colors dipped and became purple in the seam of the man’s lips.
And yeah, Caelus was surprised when those purple lips drew closed with a smile, and more surprised when they met his own in a searing kiss.
His heart stuttered in his chest, his face lit up like fire, as if he was branded by the man’s lips. Caelus didn’t push him away, however, finding warm pleasure in the way Sunday’s lips moved against his own, guiding him along like a shepherd and his lamb. Caelus had certainly never kissed anyone. When had there been the time?
He wasn’t sure what the tongue darting across his lips meant, but it was startling enough for him to gasp, seemingly inviting the other in. The other’s tongue danced and twisted around his own, coaxing it into a messy waltz, slow and intimate in Caelus’s mouth as the hand on his waist drew him in, pressing their bodies together like jigsaw pieces.
Sunday’s tongue sparked like flint against his, igniting him from the inside out. Caelus was burning at every touch, lost entirely to the roar of pleasure in his belly as Sunday backed him up to the glass wall of the greenhouse. The window panes were warm from the sun, soaking into his back as the man tore him apart with his tongue.
Caelus gasped for breath when Sunday finally pulled back, licking his lips in satisfaction as his eyes drank in the other’s flashed expression with a hunger Caelus had never known until today. Sunday hummed, raising a hand to grasp the other’s chin, smoothing a thumb over Caelus’s red-kissed lips.
“Beautiful,” He breathed into the space between them, suffocating Caelus as something inside of him shook.
Those gloved fingers tilted his head up, exposing the long column of his neck. Caelus swallowed, and Sunday watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, looking very much like he wanted to take a bite out of it. When the man’s teeth grazed Caelus’s tanned skin, the other flinched, gasping in surprise.
Sunday chuckled, but didn’t withdraw. He attacked Caelus’s neck like an animal devouring prey. That now familiar hot tongue swirled circles, lips blooming purple bruises against his skin as Caelus’s knees shook, threatening to give out. And really, it was all kind of pathetic that the shorter man could face world-ending threats without a tremble, but to this, he was weak.
A strong thigh slotted between his, pinning him to the glass wall and providing support to his jelly-knees. Though the touch would be the thing that made them give out, because now the other’s thigh was pressed right to his mound, drawing a sharp moan from his lips.
“Oh, you like to sing, don’t you, little dove?” Sunday commented, lips unsuctioning from Caelus’s throat with a wet popping sound, making the other shudder. The pet name made something in Caelus’s chest twist and squeeze.
“Of course,” Caelus said, his cheeks ablaze as Sunday’s lips made their way to his collarbones, his hand abandoning Caelus’s face to pull the collar of his shirt down enough to expose the top of his chest. “I’m a great singer,” He boasted, but the tremble in his voice killed all confidence in his words, making Sunday chuckle around the skin and flesh in his mouth.
“In that case, sing louder.” He grazed his teeth along the other’s collarbone. “No one can hear you but me.” These words were uttered darker, heavier, and caused Caelus’s heart to nearly trip out of his chest. For the first time, the smaller man realized that this may not be a very good idea; maybe he shouldn’t allow the man to play with him like an instrument.
Those teeth sank into his chest next, and his head fell back against the glass as the pain sparked something arousing in his stomach. He choked out a moan, hands flying up into Sunday’s hair to steady himself. He couldn’t appreciate how silky the strands were, not when the thigh between his legs pressed up encouragingly, and more pleasure hid how sharp that bite was.
Sunday didn’t stop, kept biting along his chest; the pain was almost too much. Caelus whimpered, trying not to cry out. He experimentally rolled his hips, grinding down on the thick muscle presented for him.
“Ooh…” He gasped, fisting Sunday’s hair in his hands as his head flew back again. The man groaned, sucking hard on the flesh in his mouth before drawing back.
“That’s it,” He encouraged, both hands wandering down to Caelus’s hips, lifting his shirt to feel the toned muscle there. “Sing for me.” Caelus’s head was clouded, his pulse rushing in his ears so loudly he hardly heard the other. Sunday’s hands undid his pants, startling Caelus, but giving him no time to speak before one of those gloved hands was eagerly shoved down the front of Caelus’s pants.
“Hah!” Caelus gasped sharply, eyes screwing shut tightly as Sunday’s fingers found his clit, rolling it eagerly, pinching and tugging, making Caelus squirm and writhe.
“You’re soaking my gloves,” Sunday commented, sounding amused as his eyes flashed with interest, fingers venturing lower to dip between wet lips, sliding through with lewd squelching noises.
“Your fault,” Caelus shot back, though it didn’t sound like the quip he’d intended. Especially not when the man hummed with pride and finally pushed two fingers deep into Caelus’s core.
“Mmmphf!” Caelus moaned, trying to choke it down by biting his tongue, head falling forward to rest on the man’s shoulder as those fingers drew in and out of him, curling and twisting. Caelus had never experienced this with another person, had only touched himself like this in the quiet walls of his room. That pleasure was nothing compared to this, to having someone else unwind him so well.
Sunday’s fingers curled further, hand rocketing in and out of Caelus in a frenzy of wet smacking. Pleasure built in Caelus, tense and taut until it finally snapped, his body arching up off the glass with a loud cry as his toes curled.
“Ah, fuck, f-fuck…” Caelus cursed, pleasure taking him in waves as Sunday’s fingers flexed and curled against that spot inside of him.
“Good,” Sunday complimented, his eyes heavy and dark as he slowly withdrew his fingers. Caelus gasped, clenching on nothing as his walls ached still. He watched Sunday raise his hand, observing his sullied, gloved fingers, glistening with Caelus’s juices down to the knuckle and even a little further, soaking into the palm. “My fault, hm?”
Caelus’s face burned redder, his own words turned against him. He opened his mouth to argue, when Sunday brought those fingers forward and stuck them between his lips, sucking the taste of Caelus off of them as the smaller man gave a strangled cry low in his throat.
“What are you doing?” He questioned, his eyes wide as something wet gushed out of him, his walls throbbing emptily.
“You taste heavenly,” Sunday declared reverently, pulling his fingers from his mouth once satisfied. Caelus didn’t know what to say to that, shaken by the honesty in his words. Sunday didn’t give him a moment’s rest, however, as he dove back in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with none of the gentleness from before. The man’s tongue was immediately in his mouth. Caelus could taste himself spilling across his teeth and down his throat. His mouth pinned Caelus to the wall, his hands wandering down to push Caelus’s pants down. Everything about this situation bled with control, Sunday’s lack of it over himself, and his easy use of it over Caelus.
Caelus was burning from the touch, his lips bitten in a hundred shades of red and pink and purple. Sunday removed his coat, letting it drop at their feet along with Caelus’s pants, pooling at his ankles as Sunday ate him alive.
He dipped his tongue so far back that Caelus choked, his head growing fuzzy until the man pulled away, letting him take quaking breaths. He could hardly keep track of where the man’s hands were at this point, not as he was being contorted like a doll into a new position. Caelus grasped the decorative fence railing on one of the flower beds. Sunday freed one of his legs from his pants completely and had it slung over one shoulder, forcing Caelus into a slightly horizontal position, with one foot on the ground and both of their hands keeping him balanced. Sunday’s hand held the leg firmly over his shoulder. The other slipped two fingers back into his weeping cunt, making him jolt and tremble with a moan.
He was nearly completely lost in the pleasure, overwhelmed by it so intensely that he almost hadn’t realized when those fingers were replaced with a blunt pressure at his slit. He glanced back, seeing that the man had freed himself of his pants and was poised at his entrance, ready to push right in. Caelus’s throat squeezed, and his eyes widened. He’d certainly never done this before. He looked up into Sunday’s eyes, and found that the man’s gaze had been trained solely on him, focused on the way his chest rose and fell, the nervous look in his eyes. Something dark rose in his stare, catching Caelus off-guard before the man’s hips snapped forward. Fucking right up into Caelus, forcing the other forward as pain lit his insides.
“Ah!” He cried, sharp and gasping as he was filled to the brim, his body clenching down and squeezing the other as painful pleasure coursed through his stretched walls. “Hmm…” He whimpered, biting his cheek as he rhythmically tightened around the other’s cock, waiting for his insides to loosen enough to accommodate the other.
“That’s it,” Sunday breathed in that reverent way, shuddering as his cock twitched inside the other, making him gasp. “You take me so well, little dove.”
Caelus rested his forehead on his arms, his eyes itching with the urge to cry due to how full he felt. He finally took one deep, shuddering breath, his body finally loosening.
“Good,” Sunday purred above him, and then he was moving, drawing out of Caelus’s tight body with a groan. Caelus gasped, taking quick, rapid breaths at the feeling of Sunday’s cock dragging out of his tight walls.
And then he snapped his hips forward again, ramming himself right back into the plush, velvety walls, bobbing Caelus forward and forcing a moan out of his mouth. From there, he set a rapid pace, not giving Caelus any more time to breathe as he plunged recklessly into the smaller man’s body. The hand on Caelus’s thigh tightened, drawing him close as he fucked into him.
The wet slap of skin on skin filled Caelus’s ears, burning them red as he bounced back and forth, trying to keep himself from tumbling into the flower bed as he was fucked hard against the railing. His core strained with the difficulty to remain stable; his legs quaked terribly, and none of it could compare to the immense pleasure coursing through his entire body. He could feel every rough press of that cockhead against his cervix, pounding against it over and over again. When he glanced back, he could see the flush on Sunday’s face, his wings tense and feathers spread as his brow furrowed, looking nearly lost in the pleasure. As if he could tell Caelus was looking at him, those gold eyes snapped up to meet his, half-lidded and hiding the indigo pupils as he loomed over Caelus. The corners of his lips pointed up, and he leaned forward, pushing Caelus’s leg forward and allowing a deeper thrust.
The sun was behind his head, glinting off his golden halo and setting it alight, making him look like divinity incarnate. Caelus had met many powerful people and beings, but the memories couldn’t compare to being face to face with one again, especially being under one’s control the way that he was right now. His body bent to the other’s will, straining under the touch as Sunday continued his rough, rapid thrusts. Caelus’s throat was raw from the sounds being forced from it, and he could feel the jagged little star fragments falling from his eyes as he cried with overstimulation, doing nothing but adding to the feeling.
Gloved fingers found his clit once more, soothing wet, sloppy circles over it as he moaned. He could feel the threads of his pleasure building, knotting together into a tangled ball low in his stomach as Sunday wound them with each roll of his fingers over Caelus’s clit. His cries grew higher, breaking in his throat on their journey to the tip of his tongue. He could feel the pleasure building behind his teeth, tingling along his scalp.
“You can do it, come on,” Sunday coaxed, as if he were speaking to a timid animal. “You’re taking me so well. Show me how good it feels, sweet little dove.” Caelus’s heart shook. Sunday’s hips gave a particularly harsh thrust right as his fingers tugged on his clit, sending him spilling over the edge. His arms fought to keep him upright as his body spasmed, his voice crying hoarsely as Sunday fucked him through in deep rolls of his hips. Once the last few waves began crashing through his body, Sunday picked his pace back up, starting to chase his pleasure despite how overwhelming and sensitive the smaller man was now. Caelus felt more of the shiny little star pieces fall from his eyes, bouncing off the ground at his feet.
“W-wait,” He panted, his body writhing with burning hot pleasure. “Sunday, h-hold on–”
Sunday’s hand found his throat, squeezing it tightly, making him gasp. His thrusts grew erratic and harsh; the hand tightened quickly. Using his throat as a handhold while his hips stuttered and he moaned, spilling into Caelus with grinding hips. Caelus took shallow breaths, somehow finding comfort in the tight hand on his neck. Sunday cooed praises into his ear, groaning as his cock twitched inside Caelus with each spurt of cum. The gray-haired man was so lost to the sensation that he couldn’t process a single, possessive word. Not the ‘you’re mine’s, the ‘you’re never leaving’, or the ‘never wake up’s. It was all lost to Caelus’s poor little fucked out brain.
When their breathing settled, and Caelus’s mind finally settled into producing coherent thoughts, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Sunday. The man in question was staring down at him, his pupils blown out wide, gold nearly consumed by the rich indigo as his wings fluttered on either side of his head. Sunday slowly pulled out of Caelus, his softening cock still leaking between them as spent fluid gushed from his ruined cunt.
“Are you alright?” Sunday asked, helping him to right himself. Caelus wobbled just a bit, catching himself on Sunday’s shoulders as his knees finally stopped shaking him off his feet.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Caelus replies breathlessly, his head still foggy as a nice warmth settles in his bones. Sunday nodded back at him, looking over his face. His brows suddenly furrowed, and he reached a hand up, wiping at Caelus’ cheek with a thumb. Caelus felt the little granule roll over his face as Sunday wiped, picking it up on his glove to bring close to his face.
“What is this?” Sunday asked wonderously, looking at the tiny luminescent stone on his thumb, then up to meet Caelus’s eye.
“Tears,” Caelus replies cryptically with a lopsided grin, bending down to pick up his discarded clothes.
“What?” Sunday replied with a blink, brows still just as seriously furrowed.
Caelus stepped into his pants, needing to use Sunday’s arm to steady himself. “Uh, well, I don’t really know what it is, exactly. No one does. Sent it to Herta, but she didn’t even bother to look into it.” He chuckled a little, shrugging up at him. “All I know is that it looks–”
“Like stars,” Sunday breathed, looking at the one on his thumb, and then to Caelus’s face, where the grey-haired man assumed there were more tears stuck in his lashes and on his face.
“Yeah,” Caelus smiled, nodding at him. “Like stars.”
Sunday hummed, contemplative as he took Caelus in with observing eyes, until the smaller man grew nervous and shifted. He’d been looked at like a specimen countless times, by almost anyone he’d met. This gaze, though, was something else. Something born not out of curiosity, but out of something deeper, something Caelus couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was eating him alive, in the silence hanging between them.
“Thank you for showing me this.” Caelus looked around the greenhouse, hoping to turn that insatiable gaze off of him, despite how warm it made him feel.
“Of course, thank you for sharing it with me,” Sunday replied, more composed now, as he straightened once again. The two soaked up the silence, the warm sun almost too much in the greenhouse.
Caelus’s phone broke the silence, pinging repeatedly as he pulled it out. It was the Astral Express Fam group chat, and almost everyone was texting to blow up his phone, asking for his whereabouts.
“I should head back. I guess Himeko is done with her discussions.” He told Sunday, texting them back with nothing but a cryptic:
‘It’s a secret!’
It was his usual response when they were worrying too much, and as a few messages rolled in to tell him to meet up, he clicked off his phone.
“Alright, allow me to walk you back.” Sunday offered, carefully holding out his hand to Caelus, as if the other wouldn’t accept it. But with a smile, Caelus took it and tugged him along, making the man stumble briefly as they walked out of the green house. The temperature outside was much less heated than the greenhouse, and as Caelus looked back, he saw his tears glimmering back at him from the tiled floor. With a little well of hesitance, he wondered if all would be left here, on the rooftop, in the greenhouse. Would this be nothing more than a fleeting moment? Had Sunday just needed someone, after everything that happened? The thought that he meant nothing more than a good fuck ate at his stomach lining, and he frowned lightly.
“I’m surprised you can walk so well,” Sunday commented, drawing Caelus’s thoughts back to the present, as well as to the throbbing ache deep in his body. His cheeks heated up.
“It’ll take more than that to stop me,” Caelus replied cheekily, still a little shaken from his thoughts.
“Hm,” Sunday hummed in amusement, tightening his hold on the other’s hand. “I’ll remember that, for next time.” He promised, and something hot sunk into the pit of Caelus’s stomach, like he’d swallowed the sun whole.
“Right,” He breathed, looking ahead. “Next time.”
When Caelus woke up in the shell bath, he couldn’t help but take a second to process everything. He stared up at the ceiling, the water flowing around him in soft currents around his body. His heart beat hard in his chest as he replayed everything in his head.
There was a knocking on the door, so he got out of his bath, assuming that it was probably March. As he walked towards the door, he caught his reflection in the mirror and froze, quickly walking over to get a closer look.
It looked like an animal attacked him! Angry red bite marks trailed up from the low collar of his shirt along the exposed part of his chest, following the column of his neck. Littered around the bites were deep purple bruises.
They looked horrible.
His stomach grew hot and boiling, making his heart trip in his chest. Caelus swallowed and pulled his jacket closed tighter, fastening the top around his neck. He was sure to get some weird looks, but the looks would be far weirder if he walked around looking like a victim of a mauling.
Once his neck was mostly covered (he’d have to keep his chin tucked under the collar of his jacket), he made for the door.
“Jeeze! It took you forever to answer, sleepyhead. I was just about to come in.” March huffed, crossing her arms up at him. Caelus rolled his eyes and stepped out of his room.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t. I was naked.” Caelus teased her, walking with her down the hallway.
“Ewwww… You don’t actually go to the Reverie naked in the real world, do you?” She asked, sounding frightened for the answer. Caelus grinned and threw his hands up, wiggling his fingers like he was casting a spell.
“I guess we’ll never know.” This seemed to be answer enough, for she characteristically deadpanned and looked away from him.
“Hurry up, Mr. Yang is waiting for us in the lobby.” She huffed again.
“Stop worrying or you’ll get wrinkles.” He told her, jogging ahead.
“Stop giving me wrinkles, then!” She shouted after him, likely throwing her fist up. Had he stayed behind, she would’ve hit him.
When the pair made it out to the lobby, Welt was waiting as promised.
“Hey, how was sightseeing?” Welt asked, immediately taking notice of his peculiar fashion. He never wore his jacket zipped and buttoned all the way, not even on Belobog, where you’d become frosty the snowman just by stepping outside.
“Great.” He quickly changed the topic. “Is Miss Himeko done with the politics?”
Welt, bless his soul, didn’t probe further about his ‘sightseeing’, and nodded. “Yes, the IPC has agreed to become a Penacony shareholder, and thanks to them, the Astral Express has now acquired 5% of Penacony shares in honor of the Nameless that established and contributed to Penacony today.” He explained, and Caelus blinked at him.
“The Astral Express gets money now? Only 5%?” He asked with a frown, cocking his head to the side. March sighed loudly and leveled him with a dead stare.
“Caelus, that wasn’t the important part of the message.” She chided him.
“But think about all the shopping you could do at the Golden Hour!” He told her with jazz hands and a cheesy grin.
She stared at him, her eyes flashing. “Do you really think–” She began excitedly, and then snapped out of it and shook her head. “Stop! Don’t take advantage of my weaknesses to be dumb!”
Caelus pouted at her with a huff, crossing his arms. “Party pooper.”
Welt chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, we should probably head back to the express and get some sleep.”
“Sleep?” Caelus frowned up at him, straightening. “It’s still early, isn’t it?”
March and Welt looked at each other, brows furrowed. “No, it’s quite late.” Welt supplied, checking his watch. “It’s nearly eleven at night.”
Caelus’s eyes widened, his jaw slack. “Huh,” He replied. He could’ve sworn it was still early. Maybe Penacony time just didn’t correlate with the waking world, then.
“Are you feeling alright?” March asked as they began walking to the boarding dock. “You’ve been acting strange since I picked you up at your room.”
“Awww, I knew you cared!” Caelus replied with a grin.
March frowned at him, rolling her eyes. “Do you ever take anything seriously? I’m worried about you!”
Caelus’s grin fell to a smile, and he nodded his head at her. “I’m alright, Marchey, thanks for worrying about me.”
“Of course,” March replied with a matching smile. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Caelus nodded with a smile, subconsciously tugging his collar up. “Well, it all started when I was five…”
March glared at him, sighing loudly. “And with that, our two seconds of lucidity are gone,” March said, walking ahead of him.
“Liar!” Caelus called after her.
It was as Caelus walked into the Party Car to go to his room that things suddenly went awry.
“Black Swan?” Caelus asked incredulously, observing the woman standing at the window, with her hands behind her back. “What are you doing here?”
The air was silent, save for the robotic bartender who kept trying to get him to take a load off. Black Swan turned to face him, her eyes roaming up and down his person as her smile slowly dropped. Suddenly, she wore the gravest expression Caelus had ever seen the Memokeeper bare.
“He’s already gotten to you,” She cryptically spoke, walking up to him.
“What?” Caelus asked her, tilting his head to the side curiously. “I know you don’t ever speak clearly, but can I please have a hint just this once?”
Black Swan observed him for a moment longer, her eyes catching on the collar of his jacket. “He may still have eyes on you,” She continued, and it was as if she were cataloguing the things she thought, rather than cluing him into anything.
“He? He who? Someone is watching me?” He suddenly didn’t find the conversation very fun, not as a creeping suspicion crawled up the back of his neck.
“That means I don’t have much time to wake you up…” She contemplated, and then blinked, and it was as if she finally acknowledged his existence as a person, rather than a memory to catalog and keep.
“Wake me up?” He asked next, swallowing hard. “Why?”
Black Swan took a deep breath. “I need you to think back on something for me, and answer my questions, alright?”
Caelus blinked, then nodded. “Okay?”
“Are you still in the Reverie?” She asked first, her eyes searching through him.
“Um, no, I don’t think so.” He responded, crossing his arms. She was really weird, but he did trust her.
“Did anything happen to you in the Reverie since the Astral Express’s peace talk with Sunday?”
Caelus frowned at her, not even bothering with questioning her how she could’ve known about the peace talk to begin with. “Why do I feel like you know the answer to all these questions already–”
“Caelus.” She commanded his attention, getting him to focus back on her. “These questions aren’t for me. Just answer them. Did anything happen to you in the Reverie since the Astral Express’s peace talk with Sunday?”
Considering her question carefully, he thought about the sightseeing, and the… other thing, he’d done, with Sunday. “Yeah,” He replied, his cheeks burning a little. If she could already see his memories, had she seen that, too?
“Did you obtain any injuries that you can feel now that you’re awake? Not the phantom pain of an injury, reactive pain to an existing injury.” She asked, explaining carefully.
Caelus felt dread mounting in his stomach. The air around him grew cold as he rolled his shoulders and felt the irritation of his bitemarks and hickies. He shifted his weight and felt the ache in his core. He nodded at her gravely.
“What time is it?”
Caelus didn’t need to answer her question; his throat squeezed tight around the answer, holding it down. The memory of Sunday’s hand on his throat felt like a phantom suffocating him.
“Lastly,” She studied his face, honing in on her eyes as she spoke. “Do you feel like the story is over?”
This question bothered him, leaving him feeling shaken to his core. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
“Yes, Miss Black Swan, why would you ask him something like that?” A voice spoke from behind him, and again, Caelus would have to have short-term memory lost not to know who it was. A chill crawled up Caelus’s spine. Black Swan’s gaze was unwavering, looking at him intensely.
“Do not trust him.”
“I believe you have a job to do, elsewhere,” Sunday dismissed her coolly. Black Swan didn’t move, not until her body dematerialized in glittery purple mist.
Caelus swallowed around that phantom grip on his throat, and he raised his hand to undo the zipper at the top of his jacket, pressing on the bitemarks and hickies, feeling them pulse and throb under his touch.
He shouldn’t have been able to carry them into the waking world.
They should’ve stayed in the Reverie.
“What did you do?” Caelus asked him, turning around to meet his gaze, his own searching. His heart was beating hard in his chest. He was honestly a little afraid to know the answer. For the first time, he felt fearful about waking up out of this spell, fearful that everything had been a fucked up lie.
“I brought you this. You left it behind at the hotel.” Sunday admitted, offering Caelus his cell phone.
Caelus hesitated, looking between the phone and him, before reaching for it. “What did you do?” He repeated, grasping the phone and looking up at him.
“What’s wrong? Did she upset you?” He asked with an honest softness in her words. Caelus’s heart squeezed in a vice grip, and he looked away, unable to stomach the concerned look on his face, not while his head was spinning.
“Caelus.” He couldn’t look, not as the man stepped closer, quietly, cautiously, like approaching a startled animal. Like Caelus was prey. “Please, tell me what’s wrong? You should never be hurting. You don’t deserve that.” Now-familiar gloved hands caressed his cheeks, thumbs soothing under his eyes. Though his tone was gentle, inviting, warm, and caring, it held an edge. Something that raised Caelus’s hackles enough that he flinched away from the warm hands. Or, tried to. Sunday wouldn’t let go of his face.
“I’m still asleep, aren’t I?” He asked next, unable to pretend that this wasn’t insane, that he could live in any dream if he was treated well enough. Besides, what was the man even doing with him, was this some game? He was fucking with him, wasn’t he? Like, literally and metaphorically.
Sunday frowned deeper, shaking his head. “She really got to you… Why would this be a dream?” The grip on his face grew tighter, as if afraid that Caelus would pull away.
“This is all fake, isn’t it?” Caelus asked, gritting his teeth and grabbing the man’s wrists, forcefully pulling his hands off of his face. His muscles strained with the effort. Sunday was strong.
“Of course it isn’t fake.” Sunday denied, his tone growing rigid, his eyes growing frantic.
“Why me?” Caelus demanded, taking a step back, Sunday’s wrists still held in his hands as the man continued to reach for him. “Was I the biggest threat? The easiest target to lure with false kindness?” Caelus knew this feeling. Sadness, anger, an amalgamation of negativity that left him feeling hollow as his eyes itched with furious tears.
“It wasn’t fake,” Sunday argued, taking a wide step for every meager distance Caelus put between them. “Caelus, I meant everything I said, everything I did.” His voice rang with honesty, but most of all, it rang with desperation that frightened Caelus. “You– You’re tired. Maybe you should go get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”
Caelus gritted his teeth, his stomach churning with the terrible mix of emotions he felt. Something stirred in his mind, and he sucked in a sharp breath to steady himself. “I think I’ve had enough sleep. It’s time to wake up.”
Sunday’s eyes widened, mortification draining the color from his face as his fingers flexed, his hands lunged forward to grab his face, his jacket, anything. “Caelus–”
Caelus stayed in the bath for a moment longer than necessary, keeping his ears under the water to drown out any other noise. Allowing the muffled movement of the ebb and flow to consume him as stars littered the currents like glitter in one of the drinks Gallagher had made him once upon a time.
His eyes burned; he got out of the tub with lead in his bones, replacing the cartilage with the dreadful weight of reality. As he walked to the door, he glanced in the mirror, and his unblemished skin reflected back at him mockingly.
Acheron and Black Swan met him in the hallway. He stood numbly as they explained everything to him.
The rest was a blur; the situation called for his attention, but he really was on autopilot. And when they fought Sunday in that giant metal puppet, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than a forced urge to win. His body’s muscle memory kept him going far longer than his mind was present.
The first glimpse of anything other than anger and numbness was fear, as that puppet collapsed off the back of the stage, and Sunday went with it.
Relief made him feel guilty when Robin leapt down to save him.
When March tried to ask after his wellbeing, he couldn’t bring himself to take it seriously, teasing her endlessly, until eventually she stopped asking, and he could retreat to his room in the Party Car.
And the world closed in around him terribly, collapsing down on him in his fitful slumber; he couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t bring himself to relax the horrible tension in his muscles. Something deep inside him ached, caving in and crumbling, burying him in the rubble of that dream.