Page 149 of Discordant Cultivation

A blasphemed angel does what he does.

From the skies, a cry of mourning doves…

I think I know what it means to be in love.”

The last line hung in the air between them, raw and unexpected and absolutely true.

Vale stopped playing abruptly, his face growing serious as he set the guitar aside. The sudden shift in demeanor sent Kieran’s heart racing, but not with fear—with anticipation.

Then Vale’s hands were cupping his face, his fingers gentle but firm as he held Kieran’s gaze.

“The last line,” Vale said, swallowing hard. “Say it again.”

“I d-don’t—I didn’t m-mean to—”

“Say it.” Vale’s grip tightened and Kieran felt tears building behind his eyes.

Not tears of fear or uncertainty. Tears because he finally had words for what had been building in his chest for months.

“I think I know what it m-means to be in l-love,” he whispered.

Vale’s response was immediate and overwhelming—his mouth crashing against Kieran’s with desperate intensity, like he’d been waiting weeks to hear those exact words. The kiss tasted like relief and possession and something that might have been the taste of Vale’s surrender.

Yes. This is exactly what I meant.

Vale’s hands still cupped his face as the kiss deepened into something hungry and desperate, their teeth clacking together. Kieran responded with equal intensity, his gauze-wrapped fingers tangling in Vale’s hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.

The laptop slid forgotten to the floor as they moved together, Vale’s weight settling over him, the solid heat of his body pinning Kieran to the mattress, thighs bracketing his hips, cocks straining against fabric and rubbing together with a teasing friction that made Kieran gasp as their hearts pounded in sync.

“Say it again,” Vale whispered against his mouth. “The whole line.”

Kieran’s voice was steadier this time, singing instead of speaking so he wouldn’t stutter: “I think I know what it means to be in love.”

With you. I’m so in love with you.

Vale’s response was another kiss, softer this time but no less intense, like he was trying to memorize the shape and taste of the words. His lips moved slowly, his tongue tracing the seam of Kieran’s mouth before delving back in. Kieran let himself exist in the moment where love didn’t need justification or analysis—it justwas.

Vale’s hands began to wander, and Kieran arched into the touch with a soft sound of encouragement—a needy whimperescaping his throat as callused fingers skimmed under his shirt. “T-touch me more.”

“Anything you want,” Vale murmured, his fingers trailing lower.

The softness shattered into urgency as Vale’s hands roamed lower, yanking at Kieran’s shirt with hurried tugs, fabric ripping slightly in his haste—the sharp sound cutting through the air as cool drafts hit his heated skin. “You’re so beautiful,” Vale said, tossing the shirt aside. “Every scar, every inch—mine.”

Kieran gasped into another kiss, his own fingers fumbling with Vale’s belt, the metal buckle clinking as it came undone, leather whispering against denim before he shoved the pants down, freeing Vale’s cock and taking it in his hand. “Please…” Kieran pleaded, stroking him firmly.

Clothes hit the floor in a frenzy—a shirt peeled off Vale’s sweat-damp back, pants kicked away in tangled heaps, underwear tugged down trembling thighs. Kieran arched against him, wrapping his legs around Vale’s waist, pulling him closer, until their cocks rubbed together, pre-cum smearing in warm trails across his stomach.

Vale didn’t hesitate, his mouth devouring Kieran’s neck, teeth grazing the skin with sharp nips that left stinging marks, sending shivers racing down Kieran’s spine. “Do you want me right now?” Vale groaned into his ear, his voice husky and demanding. “Do you need me inside you?”

Kieran blushed, his face heating as he nodded, the words catching in his throat—the raw vulnerability of it all making him hesitate, even as his body ached for it. “Y-yes... I want you,” he whispered, voice small and trembling, looking away in embarrassment.

“Not good enough,” Vale panted, pulling back to meet his gaze, a wicked glint in his eyes.

He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube and popped the cap open with a soft click—the cool, slick gel scenting the air faintly like vanilla as he coated his fingers generously. “Open up for me,” Vale commanded, his free hand spreading Kieran’s thighs wider, fingers circling his entrance teasingly before pressing one inside—the intrusion slow but insistent, stretching him with a slick burn that made Kieran whimper as he clenched around the digit.

“Mmm, V-V-Vale—” Kieran stuttered, biting his lip as Vale added a second finger.

Vale pinched his nipple, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pain-pleasure straight to his cock. “Tell me you love my fingers fucking you open.”