Zachary Ezra Rawlins still doesn't quite enjoy reading books.

The books themselves he has no problem with; the rustle of pages turning, the soft scent of drying ink and parchment and printing press paper are a soft comfort. It's the time it takes to read them and digest the stories that doesn't agree with him.

Unless Dorian was reading the story to him.

"Once upon a time, Time fell in love with Fate."

He shivers and presses back into the touch, into the warmth of the breath just next to his ear. Leather and lemon and tobacco and sweat. Dorian. Home.

"The stars feared that their love would disrupt the going-ons of the Universe and summoned the Moon to hear her standing on the matter. The Moon in turn summoned the Parliament of Owls, who overruled her. And on a night when her light was absent from the sky, they tore Fate to shreds. Centuries have continued to pass, time flowing as it always had. Occasionally, Fate manages to pull itself together again and Time is always there waiting."

Dorian leads him back, step by step, and covers Zachary's eyes. His arm pins Zachary against him, back to chest. His ,voice dark as melting chocolate and sweet as the honey-filled Starless Sea that brought them together.

"The son of the fortune-teller stands before a door."

A curve of a smile colored the words, bring forth with it a picture of bricks painted to look like wood. Dorian's lips brush along the curve of his neck, a soft caress of the finest silks.

Zachary Ezra Rawlins closes his eyes under Dorian's hand.

"Fate had painted it for him, decorating it with a Sword, a Bee, and a Key. A door leading to an ocean made of honey-coated wishes and stories waiting to be told." A pause. Zachary counts every second and Dorian continues, shades of sadness and blue swirling in his voice.

"But he turns away from the door leading to the Heart.

"And so the son of the fortune-teller does not find his way to the Starless Sea, not yet.

"Years pass and the son of the fortune-teller finally finds his way down to the Starless Sea on a different path painted for him by Fate. Danger reaches out it's claws to try and stop him from reaching his goal. He walks hand in hand with Mirabel the Painter, although that name varies with each and every storyteller that tells the tale. The son of the fortune-teller finds his way back to the boy dressed in stars."

Zachary Ezra Rawlins feels what could be fingers, run down his arm but he can't be sure because being this close to Dorian always tends to addle his senses, like drinking a glass of perfectly balanced whiskey.

Dorian continues on, and Zachary clings to every word.

"But the boy isn't yet dressed in stars. That bit of the story lurks and lingers next to creased dust motes that drift through broken rays of sunlight, and are occasionally bat at by the cats until the time comes for it to be told.

Golden dust and fractured promises stuck together with honey and the buzzing of the bees. The stars are painted to match the shades of their love, vibrant shades of reds and orange that match the setting sun on a Heart in a Harbor, on a sea with no stars." A kiss presses featherlight against Zachary's jaw and fireworks fizzle behind his eyes.

"The Bees decide to pull the son of the fortune-teller and the boy dressed in stars out of the main story and into a side story. A story that is just as important, to find the man lost in time and the girl who is not quite a girl, but not quite a rabbit either.

They get lost, losing their way from one another and in an inn trapped somewhere between now and then, where the wind howls for the love it lost; the boy dressed in stars is given a heart and a sword, blessed by the moon herself.

In his mind's eye, Dorian's voice paints the story for him in every shade of them. Vibrant whites and yellows and blues.

"She had taken the night off to help guide the story where it needed to go and to see her husband in the inn lost between the pages of a book. The Bees tried to stop what she was doing, but who were they to get in the way of the moon?

So, the boy dressed in stars, and bearing a sword meant to slay the Owl King, heads into the night to find his lost love."

Dorian's voice drops, icing over and cold runs through Zachary when Dorian steps away, leaving him untethered. Floating in the darkness.

"And Fate is a cruel mistress."

He lets out a breath. Dizzy and completely attuned to the cadence of Dorian's voice. Intoxicated and addicted.

"The son of the fortune-teller lies in a pirate ship sailing the Starless Sea, listening to the Bees as they buzz, and dances one last time with Fate." The words light with a smile and fondness. "She still owed him a dance."

"The boy dressed on stars sits above him and gives him Fate's heart, hearing it beat sound. In the belly of a pirate ship sailing the Starless Sea, with a girl who is not quite a girl, but not quite a rabbit either, the son of the fortune-teller and the boy dressed in stars finally begin their story."

Silence.

Zachary feels his anxiety spike when Dorian doesn't go on, leaves him lingering on the edge of the cliff.

"The boy dressed in stars and the son of the fortune-teller stand in front of a door. Together, not apart."

There. He feels Dorian behind him again, his mouth leaves a tingling warmth against the knob of his neck and moves lower. Away.

"They stand in a moment with meaning. A moment that changes the moments that follow. The boy dressed in stars kneels down, hoping against Tim and Fate, and the wind that howls in search of its long lost love. He kneels down," a pause. An intake of breath. "And asks the son of the fortune-teller to marry him."

Zachary Ezra Rawlins eyes snap open and turns and locks his gaze with Dorian's.

Leather and lemon and tobacco and sweat.

His fingers close around Dorian's, voice a breathless and shared whisper.

"And the son of the fortune-teller says yes."