Peter's houseMature

I came to in Peter's arms in a richly furnished living room. There was a large black leather sofa, a pair of think navy-coloured curtains (which reminded me of Romulus's eyes), various colourful rugs in one of which my feet was sinking, a wooden mantlepiece on which stood glass orbs os pretty colours beneath a long, gold-framed mirror, a bookcase that amazingly covered the entire wall to the right of the mantlepiece (and this was a fairly long room) and a massive tree on the mantlepiece's left. The tree really caught my attention. Its trunk was deepest violet, its leaves (the shape of crescent moons and five-pointed stars) were midnight blue and the fruit (perfect orbs with smooth surfaces) smelt something like oranges but with a hint of spice in the aroma and were bubblegum pink.

"Wow," I murmured, straightening up.

Just then, Romulus came in.

"Hey Tilly," he greeted in tones I would have described as warm, had it not been for the fact that he had a heart as cold as ice and dark as shadows.

Irrationally, my heartbeat accelerated.

"H-hi," I stammered.

The light drew attention to his coal-black hair, ivory-pale skin and dark, navy eyes. His features seemed sharper and unearthly in the almost harshly bright light. I felt more scared of him yet strangely drawn in by him: this coldness in a warm, comfortable room - he was like ... a dark spot in the sun.

"Was Peter any good at being bad?" he inquired, seeming to ignore the stammer.

"Yeah," I replied quickly.

'Oh, you little liar,' said his voice in my mind. His mental chuckle made me shiver but I longed for it to last longer.

I felt myself blush. Thankfully Peter wasn't facing me and therefore saw nothing.

"I'm going to my room," Peter announced.

"Would Tilly like to stay here?" Romulus asked.

"No," Peter said firmly. "And if you follow us, I'll send you a mental blast of pain so strong that you'll black out."

"I was just asking," Romulus said in mock offence but smiled, as if amused by Peter's threat.

I followed Peter out of the living room. Opposite, there was a modern-looking kitchen and down the hallway, to the left, was a closed white door which looked like it could lead to a bathroom. Other than that, the hallway (with its dark brown laminated floorboards) was bare, save a ladder in the the centre leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. We appeared to be in a bungalow.

To my surprise, we turned right and headed outside. Peter led me around the front of the house, which I saw was made of light green stone. He surprised me further by asking me to close my eyes. He gently led me forwards. After a few minutes, we turned slightly to the left and stopped.

"Open your eyes," Peter said. I could imagine the smile playing on his face.

I opened my eyes and gasped. Behind the bungalow were three caves rising out of the sparse chocolate-brown grass.

"This is where we sleep," Peter said. "The night air is just so warm around these parts and it's kind of comforting to be surrounded by all the stars, and to feel you can almost touch the moon is just incredible."

"I bet," I breathed, awestruck by the natural beauty of these picturesque rock formations which were tall enough to house giraffes and provided plenty of space for any furniture you wanted to have in them.

Peter led me closer and I could see that thick rugs were used for mattresses, straw baskets were used for laundry, and other than that there was only a wooden desk and chair, and, in two of the caves, small bookcases. The simplicity seemed to appeal to some deep, serene part of me and I found myself falling in love with the idea of having a room like this.

Peter tugged me into the smallest one, obviously elated by the prospect of me coming in, and kissed me as he pulled me down onto the mattress.

He broke away and pulled the scroll we'd started reading earlier out of thin air (startling me). He smiled at me and handed me the parchment. I unrolled it. My eyes wandered to where they'd left off and I began to read again.

The End

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