Love Without Reason

Quentin

“Today is not about you. No one cares about what you look like. Not your bloodshot eyes, or the damned spot that won’t lay down on the back of your head no matter what you do. Today is about Tobias, and Elochian. Be the man they need you to be, and leave everything else behind.”

My reflection isn’t convinced.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair because fuck it, it won’t stay where’s it supposed to be anyway. I stare down at the black points of my boots, repeatedly trying to assure myself everything is going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen, I’ll be spending my day in two of the most secure places in Levena. I’ll be with Arlo during the ascension, then I’ll be with Elochian.

I’ll be with Elochian.

I shut the bathroom light off, leaving before I can get one last glimpse of myself in the mirror. My phone rings and I immediately answer it. “I’m coming.”

“Do you need help?” Lindsey genuinely asks, and it’s her lack of teasing that motivates me. I’m not the only one nervous about today.

“No, I’m coming.” I storm into my bedroom, forcing myself to slow down once I cross the threshold. I squeeze my phone between my cheek and shoulder, exhaling heavily into the speaker, and slip my jacket on.

“Okay. Good.”

“How many times did Kitt curse the driver?” I ask, turning off the lights in the kitchen and living room.

A laugh spills out of her, riding on the afterthought of a sigh. “I gave serious thought to feeding her mimosas before we left. It’s crazy out there, I’ve never seen the streets so packed.”

I pick up my keys, then stop and stare at them for a moment. I run my thumb over the beaded owl keychain Felix gifted me early, and the crystal caged in guitar string, from Silas. Quietly, I ask, “The footroads too?”

“Fucking Typhine, it’s like pushing a herd of cows.”

I smile, and step out into the hall. “I forget that you were a farm girl.”

“Q, you can take the girl off the farm, but you can never take the farm out of the girl,” she says, full of sass. I chuckle, locking my apartment. I listen to her as she talks about Kitt’s impatience, and rants about Arlo’s anxious quiet. I wonder where she’s hiding, because I don’t hear either of them complaining about her in the background.

We’re all riding together, Arlo and the boys, Lindsey and Kitt, Gowan and Iris. Then there’s Finnegan and myself, the dateless. At least for me it will be temporary, just until the ball. Caspian is already at the Palace with Tobias, Elochian too. The limousine is Elochian’s doing, a favor that the control freaks aren’t doing well with.

When I grasp the doorknob at the end of the hall, I look over my shoulder at the two doors opposite each other. My apartment, and the other one which has been nothing but a temporary haven. For Thatch, for Arlo and the boys. For Michael. At the head of the hall between the doors is the hearth which hasn’t been lit in some time, and I miss curling up on those old couches with Arlo and the boys.

Doubt takes hold of me, if only for a second. Long enough to wonder, will I ever open my apartment door again?

I square up with what’s ahead of me, and turn the knob. I open the door, revealing Lindsey on the other side, down just a couple of steps from the top. She innocently smiles up at me, ending our phone call with the click of a wicked sharp nail, the ends tinged in gold and black glitter.

“You look good, birthday boy. Now give me a hug already.”

I open my arms to my best friend, and hold her with all I’ve got.

It’s going to be okay.

It’s eerily like attending church, but entirely different.

On both sides of a narrow dirt road, in ten rows of pews, each row a hundred benches deep, thousands of people wait for the ascension to begin. The entire affair takes place in the main courtyard of Haniel Palace, which isn’t a courtyard so much as a mini-world. We wait in a field of wildflowers, and at the fringes are giant azalea bushes the size of maple trees, their flowerheads larger than mine and in every color of the rainbow. The distinct citrus of freesia carries on a soft breeze, the artificial wind borders on cool.

The outside world is barely separated from us, the fatal cold kept at bay by marble, stone and glass. Glass covers the entire ceiling, a special kind that transforms according to what the atrium needs. Today, the expansive courtyard calls for an unobstructed view of the heartbreakingly blue sky, bright and near unnatural for mid-March, so the glass is crystal clear, near indiscernible except for the metal framework supporting the panes.

On hexagonal slabs of gravity defying stone, angels and demons perch on the edges and watch the spectacle from above. The hexagons encircle the altar on the ground which the rest of us face as well, the lofts extend outwards and upwards in concentric circles. Harmonious string music drifts all around us, small bands of angels are stationed throughout the wildflowers and on a few of the lofty stones above us. They all play the same songs, in perfect time with each other despite the distance.

I’ve been to concerts, solar surfing championships, lectures. But nothing I’ve ever attended has been like this, never with this many people.

Sitting in a front row with my friends on either side of me, I can almost forget about the thousands of people that River could be. I hold Lindsey’s hand, and Arlo sits on my other side. He sits completely still, but his gaze wanders constantly. I ask, “Have you ever been to anything like this?”

He glances over at me. “No.”

“Your award ceremony was pretty serious,” Kitt says, holding Lindsey’s other hand.

Arlo turns his attention ahead once more. “That was different.”

Kitt shrugs, but says nothing.

I remember it. Through thousands of miles and a television screen, the power of that moment sunk into my bones. Defender of Levena, head bowed and cupped hands outstretched to receive tokens of gratitude and medals for bravery. He was so quiet, humble and modest. I think that was the first moment my feelings sparked for him. I mistook it as romantic affection, when in reality it was recognition. Kinship. Here was someone I could follow, someone who was truly good in this dark world.

Our world dims as the transformative panes of glass darken, and soon we’re left with an ethereal nightscape, complete with pinpricks of golden stars. The music reaches a crescendo before crashing into silence, and the murmur of the crowd receives a quick death. Arlo takes my other hand, holding on tight to me. I return the pressure, my attention fixed on a beam of daylight. It emanates from a circle of unchanged panes, beating down upon the stone altar we’ve all gathered before.

For a tenuous moment, there is nothing. Nothing but a crowd all paused on the same bated breath, nothing but a shaft of light in the darkness.

And then they separate from the surrounding abyss, becoming one with the light. Elochian and Tobias meet at the highest point, wingtips nearly touching the glass ceiling as they face off. They reach for the other, but just before their fingertips touch, their wings stop beating. My heart pounds in frantic anticipation for what’s to come.

Elochian gracefully falls backwards, as does Tobias. They plummet nearly two hundred feet towards the ground, head first. Between one blink of the eye and the next they pull out of the dive, skimming the air above our heads with great speed. A powerful gust of wind follows their maneuver, drying out my eyes. I gently pull out of Lindsey’s grip, scrubbing at my eyes with the heel of my palm. My hand comes away wet, and I don’t know if it’s from the air shot into my eyes or the beauty of the moment. Maybe both.

Elochian and Tobias do laps around the atrium, ascending each time they do. Tobias’ rose pink feathers practically glow in the dark, luminous and exquisite. The eyes hidden in his wingspan blink against the dark, the irises a creepy pale blue. Elochian’s wings look the same as they always do, a lovely mosaic of green, purple, blue and black. The gold is there too, but I’m the only one that can—

“Arlo,” I whisper.

“Hm?”

“Can you see the gold in Elochian’s wings?”

He watches Elochian and Tobias touch down in front of the altar, hands clasped. Then, he looks over at me. He studies me for a moment, then smiles for the first time this morning. “What do you think?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know?”

I shake my head. “No. I—I—I haven’t been sure. But I think I’m going to tell him tonight.”

Arlo dips his head. “Good.”

I open my mouth, but Tobias begins to speak, so I save my question for later.

Voice booming and sure, he says, “In the beginning, there was Ulena, Typhine, Ogmes, and Hizoh. They were the sun, the moons, flora, and fauna. They were day and night, dawn and dusk. They were everything, in a world of nothing. And so they created the first era of humanity, and the caretakers who would look after them. Each caretaker was allowed one creation, one contribution to fill a hole in the universe.”

Strained but no less confident, Elochian says, “There was a need for love and companionship, for kindness and purpose beyond oneself. The Goddess of Love said, ‘I shall make a being that will outlive all the rest, a being that will guide others, and provide love and aid where none can be found.’”

Tobias adds, “But there was also a need for logic and reason, for fair judgment and accountability. The Goddess of Logic said, ‘I too shall make a being that will outlive all the rest, a being that will guide others, and provide safety and shelter where none can be found.’”

“And so, they conspired to entwine their beings, for surely you cannot have love without reason, judgment without kindness, or a desire to serve without the knowledge to do so. Together, they created the celestials, but something was missing. The celestials were fractured, divided and unruly. And so, they granted a fraction of their godly power to families of their choosing, creating the Archdemons and Archangels.” Elochian’s last words seem to take all the air out of the room, a reminder that the beings before us something other, something more.

Increasing in passion, Tobias says, “But in exchange for this, the Arches were bound to their counterpart, their people, their God. Malakim and Shedim were created for humanity, and for each other. Today, I accept my place at my bashert’s side, at your side. Today, I become your Archangel. What say you?”

And by Gods, the sound that follows is deafening, life changing and full of promise. There is not a single objection, only praise. Only ‘yes.’

Tobias turns to Elochian, extending his hand. The atrium falls silent once again when Elochian carefully cradles Tobias’ hand in one of his. Tobias’ palm is upturned, a soft and vital offering. Air catches in my throat and Arlo squeezes my hand. Last night comes rushing back to me, and I find it hard to breathe.

“But why do you have to bite him?”

Elochian’s french fry pauses midway to his mouth, and I do my best not to search for evidence of elongated fangs. I certainly don’t need another muffin incident. The pizza at Arlo’s was good, but we got hungry a few hours later, well into the time we should be sleeping. Especially given tomorrow’s agenda, but neither of us seem too ready for bed.

Elochian says, “It has always been this way. We are to be bound in blood, it is why we have … well, it’s one of the reasons why celestials have fangs.”

“Right. Okay, I get that, but what about a knife or something less intim—wait, are you saying Tobias has fangs too? I thought it was just a demon mating thing.”

Elochian laughs abruptly, one his rare ones that crop up when I’ve especially pleased or surprised him. My cheeks warm with pride, and then with something more when he reaches across my coffee table and takes my hand. Staring at our joined fingers, he says, “Yes, he does, but they’re different from mine. I have to bite him because I was here first, and in doing so I’m accepting what he is offering. I know it seems odd, but this is what it means to be a demon, Dot. We are old, and bizarre, slow to evolve. I’m doing my best to change things, but …”

His eyes lift to mine, full of trepidation and something else, something veiled, but just barely. “Are you sure that you want to do this? I’m not easy. I’m boring, and tired, always so tired. Given my way, I would do only this with you, all the time. Eat good food, play with your hair while you read, sleep until noon, watch old movies and that furrow between your brow when you’re trying to work out a scene. My family is manipulative, and so especially demon.” He spits out the last word like it’s poison.

I release his hand and shuffle on my knees around the table, then settle into his lap. I rest my legs on either side of him, and cup his face in my hands, tilting his head back. His fingers come to rest on my hips, fanning out over my pajamas. He blinks up at me, long and slow. The words are there, right there on the tip of my tongue.

But it’s taken so long to get to this point, where we comfortably touch each other without hesitation, without it having to mean anything other than comfort. If I tell him how I feel, will it ruin everything? Will he think I need more because of it?

I dance away from the whole truth, choosing to reveal another side of it. “I am proud to be with you, Elochian ben Adrastus. I choose you, and everything that you entail. Please, believe me when I say that you are it for me. You are mine.”

Elochian’s breath catches, eyes brimming with wet relief. He lifts his chin a smidge, a silent plea. I oblige him, softly bringing my lips to his. He surprises me by opening his mouth, deepening the kiss. A whisper of a moan escapes me, and his fingers tighten on my sides. My arousal becomes a known entity between us, semi-hard as it presses against Elochian’s stomach.

It’s happened before, during times we’ve laid and cuddled together in bed. The first few times were embarrassing, but Elochian wasn’t bothered by it, if not a little panicked because he felt guilty. But we talked, agreeing to let the silent elephant in the room just be, as long as it didn’t bother me. ‘It’s a natural reaction,’ he had said. Then I laughed, because it sounded so cocky, and he laughed a little too.

But now, Elochian doesn’t ignore it. Without breaking from the kiss, he pulls me forward by the hips, then rocks me back, grinding against me. It’s so subtle and small that if it was anyone else I would call it an unconscious action, but everything is intentional with Elochian. I pull out of the kiss, resting my forehead against his. “Lochian,” I gasp. “What’re you doing?”

He breathes against my lips, fast and labored. “I—I don’t know. I just—I have to—”

“No, it’s okay, I—”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. I—I want to make you feel good, Quentin. I want to do this.” He leans in, kissing me gentler than before. “Please.”

“Okay,” I whisper against his lips. “If you really want to.”

“I do.”

“Okay. Just—you lead, okay?”

He nods, wings shivering. “Okay.”

For a second, nothing happens. We hold each other, lips a breath apart. Nervousness threatens to split the moment in two, and I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. Then Elochian’s right hand rises, skimming over ribs and nipple until reaching my throat. When he kisses me again, it’s more sure, like before. His fingers spread out, settling underneath my jaw. The pressure is unyielding, but soft.

We continue to kiss, opening ourselves to the other once again. He invites my tongue into his mouth, and the joy I feel at nearly slicing myself open on the tip of a budding fang is astronomically stupid. He groans at the friction between tooth and tongue, and pulls me forward by the hip. This time I’m expecting the motion, and I work with him. Despite the clothes between us, the sensation of my cock thrusting against his stomach is overwhelming, bordering on forbidden.

“Lochian,” I moan into his mouth.

“Yes?” He sighs breathily in response, fingers tightening everywhere. He guides me ahead for another thrust, and another, kissing the words out of me.

“Ah—I’m too sensitive, I’ll—oh fuck. I’ll come like this.”

His hand moves from my throat to the back of my neck, pulling me into him. My forehead meets his collar bone, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He whispers into my ear, “That means I’m doing good, yes?”

“Y—ah!” I cry out in response to his hips rising to meet my own. He’s not hard, and I do my best not to let the thought linger. That’s what natural for him, it has nothing to do with me. “Oh, Elochian, fuck. Yes, you’re doing good. So fucking good.”

“You swear so much like this,” He murmurs, like I’m something to be studied. That should not turn me on as much as it does. His hand leaves my hip, skating over the fabric of my pajamas, towards the tent in them. He asks, “Can I touch you here?”

I don’t know what makes me say it, or where the sudden bunch of nerves comes from. I whisper, “Yes, but … over my clothes?”

He nods, and a few seconds pass before his hand closes the distance. He doesn’t grab me like I thought he would, simply rubs his open palm over my length, exploring me as much as my pajamas will allow. When his hand settles against the underside of my shaft, trapped between me and his stomach, his lip twists.

“Dot, are you … is this a piercing?”

“Oh,” I gasp as his finger slides over the place where the metal bar resides beneath my skin, exploring the balls securing it on either side. “Yes.”

 I thrust forward and rub against his hand, moaning at the sensation. Elochian whimpers in response. I pause, until he whispers, “You sound so beautiful Quentin, it hurts.”

Well, fuck. If I wasn’t in love with him before, I certainly am now.

Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long to finish. We continue our push and pull for perhaps another minute or two, Elochian moaning softly into the crook of my neck and shoulder while I whine pathetically against the same place on him. Then I tense up, body coiling like a spring until Elochian grants me release. Fingers twisted into his shirt, a groan escapes me as pleasure is wrung from my body in powerful spurts.

He holds me through it all, breathing heavily against the bare skin of my throat, his lips and teeth a promise and threat all at once. After a few moments he starts to stand up, still holding me in his arms, and I squawk out a protest. “Lochian! What’re you doing?”

“Carrying you to the bathroom.”

“I—oh fine,” I say, doing my best to hide my face. He sets me down on the counter in the bathroom, then turns on the light. He takes a washcloth out of the drawer, and the action makes me smile. He knows where everything is. He turns the warm water on, then offers me the washcloth.

Hesitantly, he says, “I’ll go find some new pajamas for you.”

“Okay.”

He leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I sigh, looking down at my lap. “What a mess you’ve made, Quentin Matsdotter.”

I hop down onto the floor and unzip my pajamas, kicking them off, then carefully peel off my boxers. I delicately roll them into a ball and toss them into the same corner as my pajamas, then clean myself up. When I dip the washcloth into the warm water, I find myself smiling. He’s always so thoughtful.

By the time Elochian knocks on the door, I’ve dried off and wrapped a towel around my hips. “I have clothes. Do you want me to—um, should I put my hand through?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Go on, I’m decent.”

The door creaks open, and Elochian stands on the other side with a bundle of neatly folded clothes in his hands. He certainly didn’t find them that way. I carefully take the pile from him, noticing how the fabric trembles in his hand. “Thanks. I’ll be just a sec, if you don’t mind waiting.”

He wrings his hands. “I—I don’t mind.”

I shut the door, leaving it open a crack to allow sound to easily pass through. I drop my towel and pull on my boxers, waiting for him to break the silence between us. It comes after I’ve tied my joggers in place, when I’m slipping a white shirt over my head. He says, “Quentin, I’m sorry.”

I open the door, not entirely free from my shirt’s clutches yet. “What?”

He covers his mouth, but not quick enough to hide the transformation of nervousness to amusement. I finally conquer my shirt and pull the cropped hem down, then reach for Elochian. His hands lower from his wobbly smile, and he takes what I offer. I pull him closer to me and his wings shake, sounding like a rattle. I bump his forehead with mine.

“Lochian, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

His lips push thin, and his eyes escape mine, darting off to the side. “This shouldn’t be so hard.”

I smile. “Pun intended?”

He smacks my chest. “Oh, fuck off. I’m trying to be serious right now!”

I chuckle. “That’s the problem.” I kiss him and he sighs, releasing his worries into me. “Lochian, I’m not disappointed, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not—I’m not egotistical enough to think that I’ve got a magic dick that changes everything. You told me before what it would be like, and I accept that. Are you … are you upset?”

“That I didn’t come with you? A little. Yes.”

“Oh. I thought …” I trail off, unsure what I thought. That he was okay with not getting hard? He never really said if it bothered him, only that he couldn’t.

After a moment, he says, “I thought too.”

“We don’t have to do it again, sunshine.”

Elochian looks up at me through his lashes, the fine black hairs partially illuminated by the fluorescent lights of my bathroom. “Quentin.”

“Yes?” I squeak, and the archdemon smiles.

He stares up at me for a moment, his hair mussed and clothes wrinkled, lip quirked. “I adore you, you know.”

I laugh nervously. “Adore me? Is that so?”

He nods, then pulls me towards the bedroom. “Come, I’ll tuck you in.”

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” I ask, already dreading him leaving.

“Of course.”

He keeps his promise. I fall into a world of dreams and nightmares, and he kisses me on the cheek, whispering, “Happy Birthday, my love,” against my skin.

Murmuring from the crowd brings me back to the present. Elochian reaches back, pulling a decorative pin from one of the many plaits secured at the nape of his neck. He holds it in his fingers like a pen, and lowers it to Tobias’ palm.

“What’s he doing?” Arlo asks.

I sit up, leaning over Arlo’s way a little bit to get a better view. When I do, my blood freezes.

“Oh no.”

Elochian’s hand jerks quickly, and Tobias winces in response. Then Elochian gives the pin to Tobias, who gently stabs Elochian’s hand in turn. When blood drips from both their palms, they join hands, melding the blood between them. At first, nothing happens, and I wonder if I’ve fucked this whole thing up by getting into Elochian’s head.

They raise their joined hands high in the air between them, or as much as Elochian’s arm will allow. Together, with voices empowered by the land, their people, and each other, they say, “We are the Archcelestials of Levena, and we are One.”

Pink and gold sparks erupt from their hands, shooting high into the air and exploding like tiny fireworks. They pop off one after another, each one followed by a whistling fizz sound. The celestials around us scream and shout their approval, taking to the sky or stomping their feet against the earth. Cohesive motion surrounds us, the world is a frenzy of joy and acceptance.

And through it all, Elochian only has eyes for me.