phouka | Winter

Winter

The Phouka was lonely. He flew about the city in his Raven-self, observing mortals to try to find something that would catch his attention. The prince was quiet and rarely came out of his room, leaving the Phouka to bring him shiny trinkets. He didn't even have Keat's companionship.

This was, in his opinion, ridiculous.

He went to the hotel, Man-shaped, and he found Finlay's room. Riding the lift he knew he wanted only to see Winter. He did not care for the troubles between the prince and his love. He did not care. He cared only for Winter and he missed the pixie's light and company. So he found himself at the door and he knocked, hoping it would be Winter who answered.

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"It doesn't bother you though?" Winter asked, moving closer and pressing up against Phouka lightly. "That my scent is new, my body changed? You don't find it... Unappealing?"

"I do not," he replied softly. The Phouka let his hands find Winter's waist and then he leaned down, this time to breathe in the scent of him.

"You smell rich," he decided. "Like spices and sweets and..." He breathed in again. "And sex."

Sex in a why that he'd never smelled before. Or, rather, not on Winter's skin.

Sex. Did he smell of sex? Winter wasn't sure, but he did like the way the Phouka spoke the word.

Usually Winter was cautious and uneasy when sex was spoke of. But not now, not in this form. Instead he pressed himself up closer against the Phouka as he reached up and dragged his thumb over his lover's bottom lip.

"I'm glad you aren't upset. Will said you would leave me once you saw me."

Not Fae Willy, not Willy Silver or brother Will. Just Will.

The Phouka chased his thumb and kissed it, then smiled.

"I would not leave you," he said softly. "I love you, little pixie. You are in my heart and you are my dearest friend. Why would the prince say such an awful thing?"

"His soul is rotting," Winter replied plainly. "He is misery, and he wishes misery on us. ...Or perhaps he envies my ability to change, while he remains a stubborn prince."

"He is very ill," he whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure the prince wasn't hovering over his shoulder. "He sleeps with Finlay's clothes. Watches his films and shows. He does not eat nor drink. He is fading."

"Our brother has done something rotten, Phouka," Winter said plainly. "I don't know what, but- Finlay is not well. He is always- He was always, the one who took care of me. I know he scolded and shouted, but now he does nothing. He drinks, and he fucks, and he sobs. I don't like it."

He wanted to tell Phouka about the other video as well, but anger at Will was something they could share without acting on. ...Sunny was right, attacking mortals was something else entirely, and he wasn't sure he could hold the Phouka back if he became enraged.

"I know he did," the Phouka replied. He took another look around. "He granted a wish for Hex, giving him Fin for the day and night in return for the mortal's servitude. He told me. He fears he has lost Fin forever. I do not know what I can do."

Winter looked shocked, genuinely and utterly shocked. He had known it was something bad, but this was nothing he would have guessed.

"He traded him? Made a bargain of..."

The pixie shuddered, and the room felt colder for it.

"I will claw his eyes out, and feed them to Keats."

"I fear he would let you," the creature replied, his voice softer. "I fear for them both, Winter."

He moved closer still, his arms around the pixie. It was cold and he shivered, but thought nothing of it. Winter was, after all, like his name at times.

Winter returned the embrace, angry, but slowly relaxing into Phouka's hold.

"I just want everything to be how it was. All of us together. Fighting and happy," he confessed, his voice little more than a whisper.

"I want that, too. I miss our family. I miss it messy and loud and I miss our peaceful times. I miss us all together against the world. This all feels very wrong. I do not know why the prince would be so horrible. Despicable. Finlay is right to leave him- though neither of them are happy, I think," he said, his hold relaxing a little as he felt the weight of Winter against him.

"Maybe it's time we leave them both," Winter said softly. "Maybe we should get our own flat."

"I think I would like that," he replied. Then he whined softly and bent his head low to bury his nose in Winter's curls. "...Perhaps we could go home. You could make me a potion and we could be small in your pixie village until the end of our days?"

"Oh, Phouka," Winter said softly, feeling for the other creature. "I couldn't. Not now. Even if we cut ties, we are still part of Fin and Will's war. They would come for us, my village would be in danger."

"I am sorry. I did not think of that," he said then, and slowly pulled away so he could look Winter in the eyes.

"I do not want to be part of their war," the Phouka decided. "No one has come since Fin left. Have they? No one has come for the prince or for me."

"No one yet," Winter replied honestly, stroking Phouka's cheek. "That doesn't mean it's over though, Phouka."

The Phouka's eyes were deep and dark and infinitely sad.

"Can it be over just for today?" he asked. "Can we climb into bed and pull the covers up and pretend it is all as it was?"

"No, Phouka," Winter said softly. "But we can still go to bed. We can be close. We can face reality together, Phouka. It'll be less frightening that way."

"You are grown," he said quietly. He did not know what that meant or what significance it might have. The creature only knew that there had been far too much change, and all too fast.

Cupping the other creature's face in his hands, he leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Yes," he whispered between kisses. "Grown. At least nearly, I think. There might be more to come I suppose. It don't know. ...That's exciting. Not knowing."

"Yes," he agreed, chasing Winter's kisses. With his eyes closed he could indulge in the peace of such a simple act. He need not worry or fear, he needed only to kiss Winter and breathe him in and pull him closer with strong hands on the curve of his waist.

"You should take me to bed," Winter whispered. "Carry me to bed, and let's be beasts. Raw and bare beneath the covers. Let us be wicked and sinful creatures, Phouka."

The Phouka growled softly and smiled, then lifted Winter off the floor. He kissed him again as he walked to the bedroom. He always appreciated when Winter was willing to do more than touch or simply be close.

"I like you grown," he said as he set the pixie down at the edge of the bed. Then he began to undress himself, never taking his eyes off of Winter.

"Good, I like being grown," Winter assured him, leaning back and admiring the Phouka as he stripped.

"You're beautiful, Phouka," he said softly. "I could look at you forever. ...Maybe I will."

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