marlowemuses | who could ever learn to love a...

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who could ever learn to love a...

39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house on the road.

In fact, 39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house in the neighborhood. Through the years Henrietta, Virginia had mostly kept up with the times. Old, decrepit homes were replaced with bright white houses and wooden fences. The convenience store went from locally owned to a chain. The schools got better. Wifi was available in almost every pubic place.

39 Excelsior Place did not keep up with the times. Crouching darkly at the end of the road, squatting fiercely in its dead end, the house was every bit the past it came from. Tall with gothic architecture, unwelcoming pointed gates, and black bricks the hollow eyes on its gray and white face. Huge windows were long covered with sheets, as had been most of the furniture. Once upon a time the house had been beautiful. Once upon a time, however, was a long time ago. In 2016, most people stayed away from 39 Excelsior Place. Smartly so. Its resident monster hated everyone.

Everyone except for its sole resident, elderly Mr. Greerish. Greerish said he had a family. Nobody ever game to visit so the monster called him a liar. Greerish placidly made excuses, such as They’re very busy and It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. Apparently Greerish had a favorite nephew: a baby when they last met. It had smiled at him once. No one else in the family smiled at him.

The monster called him an idiot. Greerish laughed and returned to his books. That was how they found the old man dead. With a pleasant smile and a book in his lap.

Fine. The monster didn’t care about Greerish anyway. It had only just begun to tolerate him. With his death, 39 Excelsior Place would be free of pests and the monster could hide away from the rest of the world until it eventually died. That was what happened to monsters. He’d read the old books Greerish kept so neat in the bookcase. They all ended the same. The monster was killed, burned, staked. The handsome prince got the princess. Or, in the monster’s personal interests, prince. Not that it mattered.

What the monster did not know was that there was a Will. A thing that had been executed by the local priest out of pity for old man Greerish. There was only one stipulation.

Everything I own, including 39 Excelsior Place, will be so inherited by my nephew, Adam Parrish.

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"No," he said, "which is probably a good thing."

It wasn't like he hadn't thought of dreaming up his parents. Only, he knew, it wouldn't be the same. And then he risked accidentally pulling them out of his dreams and making them real. He knows it probably isn't what Adam means, but all the same, the answer applies.

Ronan folded the note and put it to the side. Beginning to flip through books, he was mostly quiet, scanning scribbles and mad ravings. Ideas. Trade agreements. Plans. His father had apparently done business with a lot of people, trading away the things he dreamed as rare items found abroad. Which was why he'd made quite a lot of money and had been able to purchase the great expanse of property that he did.

"I always figured he did something like this," Ronan mumbled with a fine line running between his brows. "Probably what got him in trouble. People get greedy, and he wouldn't share where he picked up his rare items."

Shaking his head, Ronan moved onto another thing. "Are you fucking kidding me?" It was his baby book. The first page was his mother, golden and utterly beautiful, cradling the wad of baby in thick blankets in her arms. He looked like a human baby in that picture. Probably because he managed to imitate the first thing he saw: Niall Lynch. His mother looked kind and delighted. It was obvious that she had fair hair even in the old black and white photo.

"She probably made this book. He wouldn't have."

Adam grinned with delight, hugging his arms around Ronan's waist as he watched. "Aww. Look, you were grumpy and adorable even as a child," he teased. "Your mother is lovely. She looks like she loves you very much."

Adam hugged tighter, protective of his vulnerable, damaged boyfriend, who felt so strongly and tried so stubbornly to hide it. Adam wanted to keep him safe and help him heal. His Ronan, who was everything he'd ever wanted and more.

He kept his arms around Ronan's waist, careful not to touch anything. It wasn't his to touch, and he'd seen enough of Ronan to understand that magic was dangerous.

Ronan snorted, "I guess. She was made that way."

He flipped a few of the pages in the book until it opened itself to a page of a strikingly handsome man, one Ronan nearly shared all his features with. They could have been the same man if the one on the photo wasn't older (thirties, perhaps), had slightly narrower eyes, and an impish grin that spoke of mischief rather than barbed wire. If there was anything Ronan had more in common with his mother, it was the bright shade of his eyes. Niall's were blue, but in the black and white photo, looked more gray than silver, like Aurora's.

"And there he is." It hurt, to see Niall looking so alive, and Ronan was silent. Had he not had Adam's arms around his waist he may have jerked away from the trunk in his thick emotions. It was hard to pretend like it didn't still hurt as much as the day it happened. Pure stubbornness kept him from shedding tears; he didn't want Adam to see him so weak.

"Stupid, huh? I should be over this by now."

"Not stupid," Adam said, resting his head on Ronan's shoulder and keeping his arms tight around Ronan's waist. He wasn't going to let go. He wanted Ronan to understand that he wasn't alone. Not anymore. "I don't think people ever really get over something like that."

Adam studied the picture, fascinated by it. Ronan's father. "He looks like you. Very handsome."

Ronan tilted his head so that he could rest his cheek against the top of Adam's. It was comforting, having someone with him. Having Adam with him. Sure, he loved Adam's hands, his smile, his voice. Most of all, however, he was falling hard for Adam's heart. How honest he was, how stupidly stubborn, how steady. A stone in the ocean of Ronan's anger and sadness.

"Maybe," he agreed, voice tired and subdued. Maybe he never would get over it.

At the mention of Niall's good looks, Ronan laughed. "Yeah? Guess he had to be good looking to get away with the shit he pulled." Ronan closed the baby book and put it aside. "I'll bring those upstairs later." He wanted to look through them some more, in a more comfortable position. Not crouched in the basement.

There were a few more books of finances and notes Ronan flipped through. People he did business with. How much of the property was actually theirs.Then, at the bottom, he found a journal. Etched onto the cover was a black bird. Ronan pressed his lips together.

Forcing himself to flip open the cover, Ronan studied the words on the first page.

Greywaren, records, progress and notes.

Ronan Lynch.

He's smart. Changed from his original shape to a human baby based on instinct alone. Has difficulty keeping shape for long. Terribly fond of Aurora, and she's smitten with him as well. She's in good shape after the birth. I didn't expect that he'd be—

Ronan closed the cover and took a breath.

"I'll read this later, I think."

Adam flushed at what he saw, feeling like an intruder in Ronan's memories and life. It was somewhat a relief when Ronan shut the book, though Adam couldn't help but wonder if he'd shut it to protect it from Adam's eyes. "Okay," he said, letting go and sitting up since they'd gone through most of the chest, and he wasn't sure how Ronan wanted to proceed from here.

Adam wanted desperately to feel included, and felt honored and grateful that he had been already, but he felt that he didn't belong here. The magic and the memories of being loved didn't belong to him. They were Ronan's, and far out of his reach.

For a moment, Adam felt terribly lonely.

"Do you want to take it upstairs?" he suggested. To your room, where I'm not allowed?

It was his own eyes he was protecting. Afraid to read any more, to really begin to know himself. Or, know himself through his father's eyes.

"Okay." Going upstairs sounded like a good idea, but he wasn't thinking of going to his room. Just... away from the dank shadows. He grabbed the baby book, the journal, and one of the fiance books to read later. Along with the original note on top of it all. The rest he put back into the trunk for safekeeping, closing it with a soft thump.

Turning, he pressed a kiss to Adam's forehead.

"Thank you." It was, perhaps, the only time he'd ever thanked anybody. Shrugging the books under his arm he turned to head back upstairs, feeling strangely light and weighted at the same time. He'd opened the trunk. He saw what his father left. For him. There were things he would learn and maybe, just maybe, he would finally begin to understand himself.

Adam smiled at the kiss and the thanks, following Ronan back upstairs. He felt shadowed by the trunk and the wonder of it all. The knowledge that Ronan had been deeply loved by wonderful people made him dread that Ronan would realize that Adam wasn't worth loving. If Ronan belonged to a world that was full of magic, how could Adam ever hope to belong to any part of it?

Staying quiet, he followed Ronan, heart in his throat with insecurity and fear.

Once upstairs, Ronan made a beeline for the kitchen, resting the books down on the counter. Chainsaw was looking mischievous and poking her beak around one of the cabinets. When Ronan slammed one of the books down on the counter she jumped and flapped her wings, and Ronan laughed, giving her a toothy grin.

Glancing over at Adam, he cocked his head, "Something wrong?" He seemed... quiet. Not that he expected he'd have much to say about Ronan's past and demons. Ronan didn't expect him to care, or comment. Yet it seemed like he was troubled.

Maybe he was having second thoughts? Finally realizing that Ronan wasn't human, and that he could never be with a monster? The thought made Ronan grip the book in his hands tighter.

Adam stepped close, wanting to make sure Ronan didn't doubt himself, and wanting the warmth and comfort of his boyfriend's arms. "Everything about you is magic," he murmured, though his instincts wanted him to lock the words behind his teeth and shut off all hope for the things he couldn't have. He slipped his arm around Ronan's waist, tucking his head in the crook of Ronan's neck. "I feel like I don't belong in your world."

When Adam's arms slid around his waist, Ronan dropped the book and responded, wrapping his arms around Adam's shoulders on instinct.

Ah. Closing his eyes, Ronan buried his nose in Adam's hair.

"No one does." His voice was flat, tinged only with rue. "Magic isn't all it's cracked up to be. It fucking sucks most of the time. Especially... especially when you're alone." He sighed. "I don't belong in your world, either. But fuck that. Here, we can have our own world, can't we? Just the two of us."

How desperately he wanted that to be real. Only...

"... But I guess we can't have that until I show you what a monster I really am, huh."

"We can," Adam insisted, nestling into Ronan's warmth. "It doesn't have to be now. Whenever you're ready, Ronan. It's you I want, not just the pretty face. I want to see all of you, but you don't have to feel pressured."

He kissed the side of Ronan's throat softly, wanting to stay here in his arms forever. Everything else could wait.

Gently, he shook his head.

"I promised. I don't go back on my word."

Waiting longer was also dangerous. It would be more painful to be rejected later, he had thought, though he was beginning to think it might kill him either way. And he couldn't live with dishonesty between them. Ronan would always have his secrets, but it wasn't fair to Adam to keep something so important a secret.

Leaning back, he ran one hand down Adam's arm, so that he could thread their fingers together.

"Let's go upstairs."

Adam nodded, nervous but loyal. He gave Ronan's hand a squeeze, heading upstairs with him. He assumed that they'd be heading to his bedroom again, not expecting Ronan to offer any more of his secrets than the ones he'd promised.

He felt achingly inadequate, but Ronan was right--it was clear that Ronan didn't belong in the world Adam had known. It was just possible that they could belong together. Here. In their home.

Grip tight on Ronan's hand, Adam followed after him, still quiet with nerves.

Ronan was equally nervous, though he tried very hard not to show it. Expression flat, wordlessly, he lead the way upstairs. Adam wanted to see him. It was terrifying. The only ones who had truly seen him had been his parents, and they were long dead. Showing his true form was like showing his heart, bare, ripe for the crushing.

At first he had thought he was going to take Adam to his room. Yet despite his plans he found himself leading his boyfriend up the stairs to the attic room, where he kept his most private things. A matter of both habit and comfort. If he was going to bare himself, there was only one place he wouldn't be totally on edge doing so. Every other place felt too open.

The door to the attic room opened without so much as a sound. Without looking back, he lead Adam inside, and closed the door behind him. This would be too troublesome with Chainsaw around.

The attic was as wide as the entire house and crammed with things. Odd things. Impossible things. Broken things and fixed things. In the corner of the room there was bedding, more like a thick nest made out of blankets than an actual bed, covered in pillows and some discarded clothing. Parts of the floor were stained brown—old blood—yet otherwise clean. It had soaked into the wood and left its mark that way.

And there were things draped across the lamp, chairs, books left tossed in the other corners of the room. Above his nest of blankets were purple rosary beads, pinned carefully into the wall.

He didn't apologize for the mess. Merely thumped into the room and kicked aside a few things that would be in Adam's way—and then stripped, leaving him completely naked in front of Adam. There was no point in wearing pants when he was going to shift; he'd just ruin them. Even if he was keenly aware that he was naked in front of his boyfriend.

The room was very Ronan. Careless, messy, and achingly lonely, full of raw, sharp-edged secrets. Adam stayed near the stairs, feeling like an intruder. He wasn't sure where to stand, and there wasn't really anywhere for him to sit.

And then Ronan started stripping.

Adam watched, lips parted with awe and embarrassment. He'd seen naked men before. He'd never been invited to watch like this. He'd told the girls earlier that this sight was for his eyes only, but he didn't really believe it.

Swallowing hard with lust, Adam tried not to stare, but he was having a hard time looking anywhere other than the dark trail of hair leading down from Ronan's navel. It didn't feel like there was anywhere safe to look, not when every muscle in Ronan's body made him want.

Words were inadequate. Adam stayed quiet. This moment was sacred. Ronan was trusting him with a gift that he'd given to no one else.

Ronan's eyes flicked up to Adam's face once his pants had been shed, trying to judge if Adam liked what he saw. Even if he had promised to show Adam his true shape, even sharing his naked body in this way was very, very intimate. He considered this form almost as true as his natural one; he spent so much time in it, and it was the one he felt most comfortable.

Stepping closer to his bed and the window beside it, he closed the blinds, leaving the room dim. There was enough light to see, yet it wasn't so oppressive. It made Ronan feel better.

Then, standing beside the bed, he held a hand out to Adam, palm up.

"Come here?"

He wanted Adam's touch as reassurance. And, more than that, he... wanted to touch Adam.

Adam went, unable to resist him. The moment felt incredibly intimate, more than anything he'd ever felt before, and Adam wanted to be close to him, to be touched.

He took Ronan's hand, winding their fingers together and stepping close. He laid one hand on Ronan's bare chest, fingers brushing idly over the warm skin. "You're breathtaking," Adam said, embarrassed by his own words and emotions. He bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to Ronan's collarbone.

Ronan's cheeks and throat colored a shade of pink, but he didn't shy away from Adam's touch. In his chest his heart was stopping and starting in his chest, over and over, an engine roaring to life. He wanted Adam. Jesus, God, he wanted him.

Fingers ghosting along the other boy's shoulder and up, Ronan settled on cupping his fingers along Adam's jawline to lift his chin. Tilting his head in turn, Ronan pressed his lips against Adam's. Opening his mouth, he kissed with all the heat that was boiling under his skin. All the want and desire he had pent up because he was no longer afraid of breaking his shape. It was what Adam was here to see.

Rolling his tongue and moving his lips, he melted into the kiss as he held Adam close. Once the kiss was close to breaking he rolled into the next, meeting their mouths again.

Adam moaned as Ronan kissed him, because he hadn't expected it to be like this. It made perfect sense, and it helped to melt away the nerves between them, because if Ronan was going to show him, it meant Ronan could stop holding back each time they kissed.

Pressing close, Adam wiggled out of his shirt, breaking the kiss for only a moment so he could get it off. It was better that way, skin on skin, not so blatantly obvious that Adam was fully dressed and Ronan was nude. He slid his free hand around Ronan's neck, holding him close as they kissed. He held nothing back, wanting to give all of himself, wanting to be claimed and possessed, and to claim and possess in turn. "Ronan," he murmured between kisses, drunk on pleasure and greedy for him.

Ronan's breath hitched when Adam pulled off his shirt. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful. Skin touching skin, bodies pressed together—Ronan was dizzy on it all. Fuck, Adam was sexy. His hand went from Adam's jaw to wrapping around his body so that they were flush against one another.

Like every time before, the more aroused he got, the more his form began to break. This time, he wasn't desperately trying to hold it together, either. Nails became sharper as he gently curled his fingers against Adam's back, not wanting to pinch him. His cock throbbed between them. The soft, short feathers began to ripple up his forearms and longer, glossier feathers smoothed out against his throat and hairline. Eyelashes lengthening slightly and curling against his cheeks, face framing with short feathers bleeding into long, velvety ones.

In his chest, his heart was racing. His nerves were intense despite trying so very hard to ignore them. Moaning into Adam's mouth, he clutched desperately to the other boy as he changed. Dropping the form Adam liked so well.

His wings melted free from the back ink of his tattoo, folding around the both of them like an angel's. A fallen angel, for no angel in heaven had wings of black ink. His size was roughly the same, and his face retained most of his human features, but it was clear that he wasn't human from everything else. Breaking the kiss, he stepped back, sliding away from Adam to let him see. His face lacked any expression at all as he waited for rejection.

In his opinion, he was horrendous. Not the lithe, handsome beauty of a human. Darker, feathered, with angled features and bright, bright blue eyes. What did it matter if his feathers were smooth and glossy? Maybe if he wasn't the only one of his kind he'd be considered beautiful—but to a human? He was a nightmare.

Adam didn't let go, stepping forward when Ronan stepped back.

He'd felt the feathers along his skin, the claws against his back, but neither was a surprise this time. Arm still hooked around Ronan's neck, Adam met his eyes, lips parting and eyes widening as he saw the wings.

His breath caught, leaning in to give Ronan another kiss to reassure him before he really let himself inspect, hands starting to roam over Ronan's chest and shoulders, studying the places where feathers bared into skin and where the smooth black feathers layered over his arms. "You're magic," Adam said, because he didn't think Ronan was ready to hear the first thought through his head. You're beautiful.

"Is this the full transformation?" Adam asked, carefully reaching over Ronan's shoulder to trace a fingertip along the crest of his wing.

It felt like his heart might explode, it was racing so fast. His nerves were like static electricity, shooting through his whole body as Adam's hands roamed parts of his body. When he finally spoke, Ronan bowed his head, looking at the floor. Magic. Yeah, he was magic, and he so desperately wanted to not be.

"I—haah..!"

He shivered when Adam traced along his wing, gasping, because he was still very turned on and his wings were quite sensitive. Blushing furiously, he glanced away again, staring at the wall with a fierceness that could melt paint.

"Fuck. Sorry. I'm... sensitive. There." God, he was embarrassed. Adam had barely even touched, holy fuck.

"It's... yeah. This." Ronan bit his lip as he flexed his talons.

Awed, Adam watched his face with a smile, staying close to him even though he was careful not to touch more. "You're not a monster, Greywaren," he murmured, resting his head on Ronan's shoulder and hugging close to him. "You can relax now."

Bumping his nose against the underside of Ronan's jaw, he smiled. "Or don't relax. I can think of a few things I'm feeling pretty eager to do with my boyfriend that don't involve relaxing."

Ronan stiffened when Adam hugged close, still feeling nervous, anxious about the whole ordeal. You're not a monster, Greywaren. The words echoed, to Ronan, and for a good moment he was speechless. Was Adam blind? Did he not see that Ronan was basically a giant fucking bird? With sharp claws? Covered in feathers? Disgusting?

He made a soft noise. He wasn't sure if he felt relief or disbelief.

"You want to—?" Cheeks still burning red, he bowed his head again, gingerly wrapping his arms around Adam. "You don't have to force yourself."

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