Alistair felt a haze of darkness cloud his mind when he thought about it. It took a moment for him to recognise the emotion he was feeling. He was jealous of Him for being able to see Tristan.
No one deserved to see Tristan but him.
Moreover, it drove him crazy to imagine that he could have seen and had Tristan a long time ago, but He hid him away in a place no one could reach. The thought was driving him crazy, and it made his blood boil with something dark.
He had no right to hide away, Tristan, his sunshine. It made him want to storm heaven and confront Him. But he also wanted to hold Tristan so tightly and bind him to his body.
When he felt like he was losing control, a soft touch landed on his neck. The touch was warm and alive. For some reason, it smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, reminding him of the pastries he ordered on occasion.
The touch snapped him out of the dark void.
He looked at the concerned doe eyes staring at him. It soothed his heart even as his mind told him that something was very wrong with him. He had not lost control since he lost the anger he felt after falling out of heaven.
"What was I saying?" He asked as if he had forgotten their conversation.
Tristan pouted. "You were going to tell me why you do bad things."
The expression should have looked completely ridiculous, and it would have on any other man. However, on Tristan's face, it was simply perfect to a ridiculous degree. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack again.
Alistair suppressed the strange reaction.
"I like doing bad things," He replied with what he hoped was a casual and teasing tone.
It did not matter because Tristan did not understand the nuances of flirtation.
Tristan blinked because he was confused again. "Why?"
"No reason."
Alistair thought it was the end of it, but Tristan kept staring at him as if he did not believe a word out of his mouth. He sighed with exasperation, even though he would never get tired of Tristan.
They had just met, but he was certain that eternity would not be long enough.
"Do you remember what I told you? I am quite famous in heaven and on earth," Alistair left the fridge area and approached Tristan again as if stalking him, even though Tristan was still perched on the countertop.
Tristan watched with unblinking eyes despite not understanding.
Alistair did not give him a warning.
He simply unfurled his wings, which were midnight black as if they were capable of sucking in light itself. These wings were a testament to him being the one who was once the Morning Star and became the First Fallen.
All the fallen angels had their wings darkened by losing the pure shining light, but the colours would vary from one to the other. Tristan was the first angel Alistair had seen who still had their original wings on Earth.
But there was a pleasure in him because of the juxtaposition of their colours. It made Alistair feel like Tristan was his. Like he was the only one who could colour the brightest wings with his darkest ones…
"Morning Star?" Tristan gasped as he looked at him.
"I think I am not suitable for that name anymore, don't you think?" He teased again. "I could give you my name."
Tristan did not respond. Alistair knew he did not understand the joke about giving him his name. He just looked at Alistair with a round mouth. His plump lips looked delicious despite the expression.
Alistair was amused by the cute reaction.
He thought that Tristan would be scared since he knew of him.
However, Tristan's eyes twinkled with excitement as if he were meeting a celebrity. He scooted on the counter, closer to the edge, and touched the dark wings with his fingers. He ran the fingertips across the exposed inner feathers.
Alistair shuddered under the light caress and concealed his wings quickly before the angel with the wide, curious eyes continued his dangerous exploration. He feared he might not survive and might give in to his impulses if it continued.
Unfortunately, his choice to hide his wings after Tristan touched them was not taken well. The angel's face looked crestfallen, and he looked at Alistair with wet eyes like he was seconds from crying again.
Alistair cursed in his heart.
He did not know who was crazier: Tristan, who seemed ready to cry at the drop of a hat, or him, who liked seeing those tears, wishing he could lick them. He was not a gambling man, but he would choose himself.
There was no reason to like someone's tears and crying face that much. It made him feel more twisted than he ever thought he was because Tristan was so pure. Making him cry seemed like sacrilege.
The conflicting thoughts made him irritated, and the expression he made must have scared Tristan. The smaller angel started to try to get off the high counter with the same crestfallen expression and wet eyes.
Alistair growled deep in his chest as he placed his hands on his thighs to prevent him from moving. Tristan looked at him with that innocence, but it was tinged with defiance as he glared back and tried to get out of the hold.
"You shed tears too easily," Alistair said as he looked at that beautiful face.
"What is wrong with that?" Tristan lifted his head with a huff.
His small face with the smattering of freckles that was atypical of angels did not make him look angry. It seemed he could not have an unpleasant expression, even when he was trying to be contrary and problematic.
"I have never met an angel who cries as much as you do," Alistair replied. "It is quite strange. If I did not see your wings and felt your divine light, I would think you were human, especially with the way you wear your heart on your sleeve."