4The last rays of the sun were fading from the sky when Kieran led Mark between two tall trees, wrapped with ivy, and into a sheltered, grassy clearing. They had left their horses with the rest of the Wild Hunt, not far away, and melted into the trees together. Gwyn had watched them slip away, a knowing look on his face, but nobody had stopped them.
Now Kieran stopped and Mark came to a halt beside him and looked around the clearing. It was small, covered with long, springy grass. A little stream fell over some rocks opposite where they stood and tumbled into a clear shallow pool before winding its' way through the grass and back beneath the trees. Flowers grew along its' banks and ivy trailed from the trees into the water. In the fading light everything had a shadowy and beautiful air.
"Wait here." Kieran pressed Mark's hand and then slipped silently away. Mark settled himself on the grass and watched as Kieran moved across the clearing, his eyes fixed on the ground, seemingly looking for something.
At the edge of the stream Kieran stopped. He crouched down amongst the long grass and bushes by the water and was lost from Mark's sight for a moment. When he straightened up again he seemed to be holding something. He picked his way back towards Mark, careful not to damage whatever he was carrying, and sank gracefully to the ground beside him. Now Mark could see that his fingers were stained a pale red and his cupped hands were full of wild strawberries. "For you," Kieran said, offering the fruit to Mark, "They are very sweet, you will enjoy them."
Mark took a strawberry, still damp from where Kieran must have washed it in the stream, and put it in his mouth. Kieran was right, the fruit was sweet and delicious and the juice soothed Mark's dry throat, after days of riding without food or water. He licked his fingers, delighted by the taste, and smiled at Kieran. "Thank you," he whispered and reached out to stroke Kieran's cheek. As he said it he was thanking Kieran for more than just the fruit, he was thanking him for every kind thing he had done, for always being there, for his love. When Kieran smiled back Mark hoped he understood.
Taking another strawberry Mark lent forwards and placed it against Kieran's lips. Kieran looked briefly startled and then pleased. He opened his mouth and allowed Mark to place the strawberry on his tongue.
When he had swallowed Kieran selected a strawberry with care from the pile he had collected. Experimentally he held it out to Mark, who lent forward and took a bite of it so the juice ran down Kieran's hand. Kieran smiled and licked it off his fingers. "Is this something Shadowhunters do?", he asked, choosing another strawberry and biting into it.
"I am not certain." Mark frowned. Perhaps he had seen people doing this before, he was struggling to remember. He tried to imagine his father feeding strawberries to his wife and failed. He shook his head. "I do not think so."
Kieran laughed and held another of the small, red fruit out to Mark. "Then they do not know what they are missing."
When all the strawberries were gone Mark lent against Kieran's side. The evening was peaceful and quiet and it felt good to be alone together after days of being surrounded by other riders. Mark let his mind wander as his body relaxed. Around them the branches swayed gently in the breeze and the air was filled with the soothing rustle of their leaves. Small birds wheeled and dived after insects above them and in the grass night flowers were beginning to bloom, filling the clearing with their sweet scent.
"What are you thinking of?", Kieran asked softly in Mark's ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending shivers down Mark's spine. In the dusk Kieran looked beautiful, all shadows and moonlight, with his pale skin and silver-black eyes. His hair fell in inky waves, blowing gently in the breeze. Mark reached up to stroke it, enjoying the familiar feel of it through his fingers. Kieran was still watching him expectantly, his head tipped quizzically to one side.
"Your hair has grown too long," Mark replied, startling a laugh out of Kieran, who had clearly been expecting him to say something very different. He wound a strand of hair around his finger and watched, fascinated, as it lightened as Kieran laughed.
Kieran reached up and caught Mark's wrist, bringing his hand down to his lips and kissing the palm, his eyes fixed on Mark's. "Perhaps you could cut it for me?"
Mark felt his pulse quicken as Kieran's lips brushed his skin. "Of course."
Moving around so that he was seated opposite Kieran, Mark eyed his hair critically. He was right about it getting too long. The blue strands hung down into Kieran's face, tangling with his long eyelashes. Gently Mark's cool hands brushed the hair back from Kieran's forehead, teasing out the tangles and carefully freeing the leaves and twigs that had caught there, until it was smooth and soft again.
Then Mark reached up to his throat and carefully lifted the chain with the elf-bolt from around his neck. It was heavy and familiar in his hand. As he unclasped the chain and slipped it off he remembered Kieran giving it to him. He had taken the delicate faerie-made chain from around his own neck and threaded the arrowhead onto it, before dropping it over Mark's head. Since then Mark had always carried the arrowhead with him, his most treasured possession.
With a smile Mark held the chain out to Kieran who took it, letting it trail between his fingers. It was still warm from where it had been resting against Mark's chest. Kieran closed his hand over it, clasping it tightly, a sudden overwhelming feeling of love and protectiveness surging up in his chest.
He lent forwards, his hands pressed against Mark's chest over his heart, and kissed him fiercely. It was a possessive kiss that tasted of the wild strawberries they had shared and Kieran felt Mark gasp against his lips in surprise. Then Mark reached up and wrapped his arms around Kieran, his hands stroking down Kieran's back, his heart hammering against Kieran's hands. Mark's eyes were very wide in the gloom and Kieran could see the love and yearning shining in them. Kieran let his hands slide up until they rested against Mark's face, his tongue stroking against Mark's lips and watched with delight as Mark's eyes fluttered closed. For a moment there was nothing but the two of them, wrapped together, kissing as if they were starving.
Then, too soon, Kieran pulled away with a gentle laugh, his hands still cupped around Mark's face. "There will be time for that later," he said, his voice filled with longing and desire.
Mark smiled and nodded. He was unsure whether he quite trusted his voice to speak without giving away how much he needed Kieran. Quickly he reached down to retrieve the elf-bolt from the grass beside him. He must have dropped it at some point, though he had no memory of doing so. He could still feel the warmth of Kieran's lips on his and his heart was still beating a little too fast. When he straightened up again Kieran was watching him with an amused half-smile as if he knew exactly what Mark was thinking.
Holding the arrowhead carefully, so as not to cut his fingers on the sharp edges, Mark used his other hand to lift Kieran's hair away from his face. Then he carefully began to trim the blue strands, pausing every now and again to make sure the length was even. As he worked Kieran watched him, the tilt of his head, the small frown of concentration, his hands moving swiftly and precisely in and out of Kieran's line of vision. He could see himself reflected in Mark's blue-gold eyes and behind him the shadowy trees.
After a while Mark got to his feet and moved around behind him, settling himself so he was kneeling, his chest almost touching Kieran's back. Kieran could feel his breath on the back of his neck as Mark leaned forward, his fingers gently combing through the tangled strands of his hair. Kieran shuddered. He wanted to lean back against Mark, let his head drop back onto his lover's shoulder. It had been too long since they had been able to be alone like this, away from the others. He sat stiffly and impatiently as Mark's thin fingers worked through his hair, straightening out the strands before cutting them.
The elf-bolt sliced through the last stand of pale blue hair and Mark dropped his hands back into his lap. "I have finished," he announced and lent forwards to kiss the back of Kieran's neck. His skin was warm and smooth under Mark's lips and his newly cut hair was soft against Mark's skin.
Kieran sighed and let himself relax, his spine curving back against Mark's chest. Automatically Mark's arm circled Kieran's waist, pressing them together. For a long time they remained sat like that watching the stars come out together. Around them the long grass swayed in a gentle breeze. It was like being alone in a dark ocean with just each other to hold onto.
Mark thought of his life with the Hunt before Kieran had come, the loneliness and the cold. In so many ways Kieran really was all he had to hold onto, his protector, his only friend, his love. Life without Kieran would be unbearable, too painful to even think of. Mark shivered, suddenly cold despite the mild weather.
Kieran felt the movement and turned quickly to look at Mark. "Does something trouble you?" He reached out and took Mark's hand, the one that still held the elf-bolt. Gently Kieran turned it over and uncurled Mark's fingers. Without realising it Mark had tightened his grip on the arrowhead and now two fine lines of blood trickled down his fingers.
"It is nothing." Mark shook his head as if to clear it. "I was thinking of my time with the Hunt before you came and how painful it was for me." He glanced up at Kieran, who took the elf-bolt with an unreadable expression and threaded it back onto the chain he still held. For a moment they were both silent, Kieran twisting the chain between his fingers, Mark watching the starlight sparkle off Kieran's eyes.
When Kieran spoke he sounded distant, his voice sad. "Before I knew you I was alone. You are the only person I have ever loved." He looked up at Mark and smiled. "Perhaps we saved each other." He held out the chain and Mark bent his head, his fair hair falling into his eyes, so that Kieran could slip it back around his neck.
As the familiar weight settled against his chest Mark felt comforted. He reached forward and caught Kieran's shirt, pulling Kieran against him. Their lips crashed together, harder than Mark had intended, and then his hands were tangled in Kieran's hair, stroking the warm skin at the back of his neck, and he could no longer remember what he had been about to say. All he could think of was Kieran's lips on his and his hand stroking his back beneath his shirt. "I love you," Mark whispered as Kieran's kissed down the side of his neck. He felt Kieran smile at that and pull away slightly.
"You know you have my heart," Kieran replied quietly, his breath ghosting across Mark's throat. Then he leaned in to kiss Mark again, letting his fingers brush lightly against Mark's collarbone in the way he knew Mark loved. Possessively he enjoyed the sight of Mark relaxing under his touch, his lips parting in a gasp that was lost in the sound of the wind in the grass around them. His fingers reached for the hem of Mark's shirt and in one smooth movement he tugged it off and threw it aside.
The cool breeze felt good against Mark's warm skin. It made him shiver deliciously, suddenly very aware of the nature around them, the open sky above. He felt a savage joy, the love of freedom and the wild. It was the feeling he had when he rode with Kieran, plunging over the edge of waterfalls and racing the wind across the sky. Pulling Kieran closer, he kissed him, biting at his lips until he tasted blood, willing him to know how he felt. And Kieran understood.
Impatiently he tore off his own shirt, allowing Mark's fingers to run up and down his side in a desperate, restless way. Mark's torn fingernails left scratches in Kieran's pale skin, a delicious sting that reminded Kieran of the battles he has shared with Mark, the blood and the pain they had endured together. As he kissed Mark, his tongue exploring the familiar taste of his mouth, he clutched Mark's hips so tightly he knew the skin would bruise. Under his hands Mark felt thin, his bones prominent, but Kieran was not gentle with him. Mark was strong, a warrior, they were evenly matched.
He slid his lips down Mark's neck and bit down where he could feel the pulse hammering. Mark groaned and Kieran watched as his lover's head fell back, his breath coming in raged gasps. Starlight shone in his wide eyes and the moon turned him all to silver, a pale ghost against dark trees, an ethereal vision, that might fade away like a wisp of smoke. To Kieran there was no sight more beautiful. Love flooded through him, so strong he felt as if his heart would break. Desperately he reached for Mark again, needing to hold him close, to be sure he was real.
Together they fell into the soft grass, Kieran lying on top of Mark, their bodies pressed together hard. Under Mark's back the ground was cool, but Kieran's skin burned where it touched him, setting every nerve on fire. And then Kieran was fiercely stroking his hair, murmuring words of love and he felt his whole body shudder, arching up to meet Kieran's.
Their lips slammed together, their hair mingling in a tangle of silver and black in the moonlight. Mark traced his fingers along the scars on Kieran's back, across his ribs, over the muscles of his stomach and then down his hip bones. Kieran stifled a groan against Mark's lips, never quite forgetting the need to be quiet even when they were alone.
And then they were kicking off the rest of their clothing and there was nothing but the feeling of each other's skin, every touch familiar, full of passion and love. Mark buried his face in Kieran's neck, whispering his name over and over, his fingers digging into Kieran's back, feeling his muscles move beneath his scarred skin. He forgot his memories of pain and blood, forgot the feeling of not belonging, let go of the pain he felt for his lost family. All of it was swallowed up by his love for Kieran.
When Mark came back to himself and opened his eyes Kieran was lying beside him, one arm still wrapped around his waist. His other hand was pillowed under his cheek and he was watching Mark through half-lidded silver-black eyes. "I said there would be time later," he said when he saw Mark looking at him. There was a hint of laughter in his voice that made Mark smile.
"You are beautiful, my Kieran," Mark said quietly, watching as the moonlight played over Kieran's face, the long grass casting dark shadows across it, his hair blowing in the wind. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers over the perfect cheekbones, but his body felt heavy and content and suddenly very tired.
As if he knew just what Mark was thinking Kieran stroked his fingers over Mark's cheek and brushed his tangled curls out of his eyes. "You are tired, you should sleep," he whispered, drawing Mark against him as he nodded.
The night air had cooled and the wind had picked up, making Mark shiver and press himself closer to Kieran's warm body. They had left their blanket behind with their steeds so Kieran draped his shirt over them and wrapped his arms around Mark, listening to his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. For a while Kieran lay watching the moon make its slow progress across the dark sky above them. Then he too fell asleep with Mark pressed to his heart.