Page 75 of Icarus

“I didn’t think you’d hate it, it’s just . . .” Helios huffed.

Icarus hummed, tracing the shell of Helios’s ear, then skittering his fingernails over the sharp heavy curve of Helios’s jaw. Helios fell quiet, but the violent flush was fading from his skin.

“You think I’d know art, and not know this?” Icarus said.

He pressed closer, still. “There have been men like you before we had words for it.”

And even though it hurt, Icarus stood on his toes to gain an extra inch, and brushed his lips against Helios’s cheek.

Helios cried out.

Lifted his hands to hold Icarus, forgetting himself.

Icarus caught Helios’s wrists in his grasp before he could, and trailed his mouth across Helios’s face. Soft, staccato kisses, because they were easy and he knew he was untalented.

Helios’s mouth, when he found it again, was sticky and hot. He wondered, in the grip of madness, whether his own mouth felt the same.

Icarus let Helios fall back against the wall of the pool, to look at him hazy eyed, flushed and waiting. Breathing fast. But Icarus pulled away and let the cool air fill the void between them.

“I haven’t gotten to shower in two days and I really want to. After, we can float a bit if you want.”

Helios let out a shuddery noise.

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked.

Icarus turned around and started walking determinedly toward the bar of soap Helios had left on the edge of the tub.

“Icarus, seriously, was that your first kiss?! That shouldn’t be allowed! You’re not supposed to be good at it! You’re supposed to be slobbery and gross. Ugh, fuck you,” Helios ranted.

Icarus’s laughter echoed off the tiles, filling up the room.

Butterfly

Even though there was no other place less like the woods than this, Icarus thought about Celestina’s pond: drifting with her together and apart.

He’d scrubbed until all of his skin felt brand new, and watched Helios wash his hair as though it was a performance. Then he drifted on his back until they made contact.

Icarus noticed that the shock of touch was lessening the more of it he had. The sensitivity was still there, but it wasn’t a roar unless the experience was something new. The brush of their shoulders in the water felt striking enough to make his heart race, but the hand Helios outstretched and wrapped around his own was firm and ran a comfortable pleasure up his arm.

Icarus opened his eyes and took a bleary glance down Helios’s body from this impossible angle. He was all swells and valleys with water lapping at the sides, like a great island. The lamplight gleamed off the tracker around his ankle. There were more small healing bruises beneath his clothes than Icarus had imagined.

“Can I draw you like this?”

Helios was quiet for long minutes, thinking.

“No,” he said, finally. “But not never. Maybe in a few years.”

Silent

The night was blue again, in Helios’s room. The moon must be close to full for the shadows to stretch so far across the ground.

This was the closest they’d ever been. Helios was tucked beneath Icarus’s chin, forehead pressed against his chest. His breath warming the hand Icarus had draped over his own side to lie between them. Helios held Icarus’s wrist; firm like he had the previous night so that he could do it as long as they liked.

“Can I tell you why I’m here now?” Helios whispered.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t need to know,” Icarus said. He uncurled his fingers until they brushed Helios’s lips.

Helios kissed them softly, but shook his head.