Emil didn’t think it was that hot, but he wouldn’t object to Adam getting out of the somber garment. He entered the clearing in slow, careful steps, wondering if any animals lived there as well. “Or it’s a magical place. If demons are real, why not this?” he whispered, beckoned closer by a flicker of bright yellow light farther on.
The trees and bushes grew so densely back there he wasn’t sure how they all managed to get enough sunlight during the day, but he pushed through a curtain of huge leaves and followed the stream of fireflies into a small space occupied by a thick carpet of ferns. The constant buzz ringing in his ears, along with birds of the night singing high above, created a hypnotic concoction.
“I think we might be the first to step in here in a very long time,” Adam mused, but the rustle of leaves under his feet became background noise when Emil spotted the source of the light he’d seen earlier.
A flower, reminiscent of an orchid, was the beacon he’d followed. Its petals made of flame that produced neither ash nor smoke, and they pulsed as soon as Emil took a step toward it in breathless admiration. This couldn’t be real.
“Do you see this, or am I drunk?” Emil asked, shivering when Adam’s fingers slotted between his.
“You are not drunk. Maybe it’s… St. Elmo’s fire, or something? An illusion,” Adam whispered, staring at the strange plant as if he expected it to send a fireball his way. He’d completely unbuttoned the cassock and now wore it like a trench coat over a white tank top, which revealed how fast he was breathing.
“Only one way to find out.”
Emil pushed the spiky handle of the torch into the ground between ferns and scooted down in front of the flower, unable to resist its pull despite his better judgment. Anticipating pain, he moved his fingers to the warm flames, but instead of burning him, they licked the digits, as if they were smoke.
A sense of peace filled Emil’s chest along with the intoxicating scent of the forest. He felt small, unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but tonight, he’d been chosen, and even if he woke up tomorrow to find out it had only been a dream, he wanted to hold on to this moment and cherish it forever.
“It doesn’t burn me. There’s no other way, Adam. It’s the fern flower.”
Adam gave a soft laugh, “Shut up. That’s not possible,” he said but wouldn’t stop watching the flames quivering around Emil’s fingers without causing harm. Their eyes met, and Emil felt a tentative touch on his forearm, but before the fog around Emil’s mind could have dispersed, something moved between the trees, and he stiffened, ready to fight off the animal with the torch.
His heart stalled when he looked back into the calm eyes of a bison.
“It’s massive…” Emil whispered, instinctively standing between Adam and the animal. “Don’t agitate him, and there’s no need to fear him,” he said but stiffened when the massive bulk of brown fur and muscle emerged from the bushes and strode toward them at a languid pace.
Emil’s feet grew into the ground when the bison appeared in its entirety, so tall it might not have fit under the ceiling in his home, but it appeared curious rather than aggressive, and sucked in air close to Emil’s chest, as if wanting to know who invaded its sanctuary. And when the beast bowed its head, Emil’s heart stopped.
The orchid wreath the crows had snatched hung from the bison’s horn.
Adam stepped forward before Emil could have stopped him and took the flower crown. With a nervous smile, he placed it on his own head.
Emil held his breath when the bison huffed, shaking its massive head, but instead of charging at them, it took a languid turn and walked off without haste, leaving the two of them in stunned silence.
Emil touched the wreath, and Adam’s brilliant gaze followed the movement of his hand. “You know this means I owe you a kiss? Do you want to keep it as a souvenir? It’s a stupid tradition anyway.”
Adam lost his smile, but he didn’t step away either and stared back at Emil as a stray group of fireflies found its mark in the orchids, setting the wreath alight with their faint glow.
“It’s not a stupid tradition,” he said, and every little hair on Emil’s nape rose when Adam gravitated closer, blue eyes on fire.
“If you want a kiss, you have to take it.”
Adam took a deep breath, but when his soft gaze focused on Emil’s lips, his touch became palpable even before it happened. Adam’s fingers were smooth against Emil’s neck and jawline, but they pulled him down nevertheless. A shiver resonated through Emil’s solar plexus when Adam licked at the seam of his mouth.
Emil was more than eager to let him in and opened his lips. He was only human and wouldn’t insist on preserving Adam’s virtue for him, so he slid his hands under Adam’s cassock, to the deliciously narrow hips. That kiss was innocent, an exploration of what things could be. Adam let out a soft sigh, leaning closer as he explored Emil’s lips with curiosity that had nothing in common with the aggressive sexuality he’d expressed when the demon had had its hold on him.
But as he stepped closer, pushing his chest against Emil’s, heat simmered between their bodies like lava about to burst into the open. Adam wasn’t holding back anymore and kissed Emil with the desperation of a man who’d been starving and got his first spoonful of butter, honey, and cream.
Emil’s head spun when he realized he could sense Adam’s heartbeat where their breast bones were so close together, and his own moved in sync so faithfully to Adam’s it felt as if both hearts were his.
Adam’s lack of experience showed in the way he curled his hands in the fabric instead of pulling off clothes, but his desire, pure and honest like that of a teenager who got to touch a lover for the first time, was a ray of sunshine dispersing the gloom of Emil’s world.
Emil moved his hands around Adam’s hips and squeezed his ass, shivering with the need to see it naked again, to bury his face in Adam’s neck, and taste his sweat. Adam was pure temptation. Emil’s very own serpent, which tightened its body around his victim’s neck and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. But instead of fearing the snake, Emil would have been happy to wear the reptile around his shoulders every day.
Adam pulled away, looking into Emil’s gaze like a doe about to bolt, but instead of pushing him away, he pulled off the cassock and nipped Emil’s chin, rosy-cheeked as if that little bite was the height of daring. “We can… use this,” he said, as if uncertain what he wanted to do about the long garment.
But Emil knew. He spread the fabric over the thick undergrowth in the middle of the clearing, right by the burning fern flower, and pulled Adam’s hips closer as soon as he was back up.
Adam let his forehead rest on Emil’s collarbone and the torchlight revealed all the goosebumps peppering the smooth skin of his shoulders. Emil needed to act, because Adam clearly wanted to offer him the reins.
He sat down on the cassock-blanket and urged Adam to do the same with a gentle pull. Adam fell into his arms, and Emil rolled them over, so they lay side by side, mouths joined in a kiss that, for all Emil cared, could’ve lasted forever.
With the fern flower burning close by, surrounded by the floating fireflies, and overlooked by the stars, they existed beyond time, and he wanted to believe that they would never have to leave the safety of their green cocoon.