Great Spirits

∆ Twenty-Six ∆

The soft press of Silas's lips sent streams of energy through Wren, a gentle yet powerful current that left a lingering warmth in its wake, and it was building. One kiss turned to two, then four, then six, until Wren lost count, each one leaving him breathless and wanting more. Panting, Wren managed to separate from Silas only for him to bring him back into another, pushing him onto the grass. Wren threaded his fingers through his hair, humming with satisfaction. As they broke away for air, Wren's flushed breath lingered. Silas thumbed Wren's bottom lip, a palpable tension hanging in the air, and Wren, overwhelmed, put a trembling palm to Silas's lips as he went for another.

"I give you an inch, and you take a mile," Wren breathed, the heat of the moment spreading through him like wildfire.

"I only take what is given." Silas gazed down at him with eyes that seemed eager to devour him, an intensity that both unnerved Wren and ignited a deep stirring within him.

"Such a sly god you are."

In response, Silas took his hand and kissed the palm as if it were his lips. "I do not know what you mean," Silas said, smiling into his hand, laying another kiss on top of the other.

Wren pried his eyes away from Silas and to their surroundings lit up by small balls of light, reminding him of fireflies. He gazed back at Silas knowing it was his doing somehow. Silas was a god, a magnificent one, and he was here with him touching him as one would a lover. It made no sense. No sense at all. He was not foolish to reason it all away due to infatuation. With gods like him, there was always a reason, some greater purpose.

"What is it that you want with me, Silas, truly?" Wren whispered, afraid of what his answer may be. If he were to stay by Silas any longer Wren was sure he'd never escape the tight grasp he had on his heart, squeezing it until it burst. That is what the gods did. Silas would be no different. Wren knew this and still he... Wren squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his arm, embarrassed with himself.

Silas pulled Wren's arm away from his face as he moved from over him. Wren was grateful for it.

"What I want from you is simple, Wren." He combed his fingers through his own hair, admiring the scenery. "I want you, all of you, all that can be had. Give it all to me."

                                                                             ∆

They woke well before dawn. Walla had come with others to gather the rest of their things when they were gone. He would never leave his things unattended for too long. With little else to do, they headed toward the ship, mindful not to linger in the aftermath of the festival. The unpredictable return of the gods urged them to move quickly. Wren stole a glance at Silas, who trailed behind, captivated by the remnants of the chaotic celebration, seemingly unphased by the words he said to Wren. Words that were burning and eating away at Wren's mind.

The weight of Silas's words pressed into every corner of his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark. Grateful for the silence that blanketed them, Wren hesitated to disrupt it. They had much to discuss, but each attempt to break it felt like lifting a heavy burden he was not ready to bear.

As they neared the port, Wren could faintly make out the familiar voices of some of his crew, a sound he welcomed with gratitude. He exhaled, feeling the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

"Oi, Cap'n Wren!" A few members of his crew aboard the Pride of the Seven Seas waved, with Akash standing cross-armed and stone-faced, his unique way of expressing happiness at Wren's return. Wren waved back, relieved by the much-needed distraction. The suffocating silence and tension were temporarily pushed aside. He avoided dwelling on the actions that led to this situation with Silas.