Danmachi: Exception

The bathroom mirror had fogged again from his indecision. Cyrus wiped condensation from the glass, studying his reflection. Water droplets traced paths down his chest, following the defined lines of sculpted muscles.

The couch beckoned - a safe option. Simple. Clean.

Coward.

His own accusation stung more than any insult Bete could have hurled. Since when did he take the easy path? Since when did he run?

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped into the hallway. Their bedroom door stood partially open, spilling warm light across the wooden floor. Each step felt weighted with purpose, decision crystallizing with each forward motion.

He paused in the doorway, letting his eyes adjust. The sight made his breath catch.

Quet had fallen asleep waiting for him. She'd sprawled across their bed in that damned black lace, one arm flung above her head while the other curled around his pillow. Her hair spilled across the sheets like liquid gold, still damp from her earlier shower.

The alcohol had finally caught up with her, evident in the soft, even breaths that made her chest rise and fall in a hypnotic rhythm. Her usual divine presence had softened in sleep, making her appear almost mortal.

Almost.

Even unconscious, she radiated an otherworldly beauty that no human could match. The curve of her spine, the arch of her neck, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks - every detail spoke of divine perfection barely contained in physical form.

"Te amo." The words escaped him in a whisper, testing their weight on his tongue.

She stirred slightly at his voice but didn't wake. Instead, she curled tighter around his pillow, pressing her face into the fabric with a soft sound of contentment.

Something in his chest constricted painfully.

Moving carefully, he retrieved a spare blanket from their closet. The fabric settled over her with barely a whisper, though she immediately tried to kick it off. Some things never changed - she ran hot even in sleep.

He caught the blanket before it could slide completely off, tucking it around her waist instead. His fingers brushed bare skin in the process, drawing another soft sound from her lips.

"Mi sol..." she murmured, still deep in whatever dreams gods experienced.

His hand stilled on her hip. Even unconscious, she reached for him. Recognized him.

Claimed him.

The realization hit harder than any physical blow. From the moment she'd chosen him, marked him as hers, he'd been fighting this. Fighting her. Fighting himself.

Why?

The question echoed in his mind as he studied her sleeping form. Pride? Fear? Some misguided attempt at maintaining control?

She shifted again, this time rolling onto her back. The movement caused the blanket to slip lower, revealing more of that damned black lace. Her lips parted slightly, still swollen from earlier kisses.

Fuck it.

Decision made, he dropped the towel and slid into bed beside her. She immediately gravitated toward his warmth, pressing against his side with a contented sigh. One of her legs hooked over his, while her hand found his chest as if drawn by magnetic force.

"Mmm... volviste." Her words slurred slightly with sleep and lingering alcohol.

"Shh." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Go back to sleep."

Instead of obeying, she nuzzled closer, lips brushing his collarbone. "Pensé que te habías ido."

He didn't need a translation for the vulnerability in her tone. "I'm here."

"Promételo." Her fingers curled against his chest, nails scraping lightly. "Promise."

"I promise."

"Good." The word ghosted across his skin as Quet tilted her head up, emerald eyes half-lidded with sleep and desire. Her lips found his with unerring accuracy despite her drowsy state.

The kiss started soft - a mere brush of contact that sparked something primal in his chest. Her fingers traced idle patterns against his skin, each touch leaving trails of warmth in their wake. Even mostly asleep, she knew exactly how to draw him in.

Cyrus caught her lower lip between his teeth, drawing a pleased hum from her throat. The sound vibrated through him, stoking the embers of want that had been smoldering since he'd first seen her in that lace.

Her tongue darted out to trace the seam of his mouth, requesting entry rather than demanding it. Even now, she gave him the choice. As if she didn't already own every part of him.

He opened to her willingly, meeting her exploration with his own. She tasted of the sweet wine from earlier, mixed with something distinctly divine that he'd never found anywhere else. Something that called to the very core of his being.

The kiss deepened naturally, passion building like a slow-burning flame. Her hand slid up to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp hair at his nape. The gentle scrape of her nails sent shivers down his spine.

"Mi amor," she breathed against his lips between kisses. "Mi sol precioso."

The Spanish endearments spilled from her in an endless stream, becoming more slurred as exhaustion crept back in. Her movements grew languid, kisses turning soft and dreamy once more.

Cyrus gentled his touch in response, one hand stroking soothingly along her spine. She practically purred at the contact, pressing closer until no space remained between them.

Her leg hooked more firmly over his hip while her arm snaked around his waist, effectively pinning him in place. The message was clear - she had no intention of letting him leave again.

As if he would try.

"Duerme, mi diosa." He pressed a final kiss to her forehead. "Sleep."

She mumbled something unintelligible against his throat, already most of the way there. Her breathing evened out within moments, body going pliant against his.

Cyrus stayed awake a while longer, cataloging every point of contact between them. The soft press of her breasts against his chest. The possessive curl of her fingers at his waist. The way her legs tangled with his, keeping him anchored.

The warmth of her wrapped around him like a living blanket, seeping into muscles he hadn't realized were tense. Each breath carried her scent - sunshine and summer flowers with an underlying note of divine power that made his blood sing.

His eyes grew heavy as her steady heartbeat lulled him toward sleep. The last thing he registered was her soft murmur of contentment as he finally relaxed completely, surrendering to the peace she offered.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Cyrus slept without dreams of his past life. No memories of battles fought or lives lost. Just warmth, and safety, and the absolute certainty that he was exactly where he belonged.

=====

Morning sunlight painted golden stripes across their bed. Quet stirred, consciousness returning in lazy waves. Her body felt pleasantly heavy, limbs tangled with Cyrus's warmth. His steady heartbeat echoed beneath her palm where it rested on his chest.

She breathed in his scent - steel and smoke with an underlying spice that spoke of barely contained power. Her lips curved against his skin. Even in sleep, he radiated strength.

The memories of last night drifted back through the fading haze of wine. His hesitation in the doorway. The weight of his gaze as he studied her. The way he'd finally slid into bed beside her, as if crossing some invisible threshold.

Finally.

She'd meant to seduce him. Had planned it during her drinking session with Demeter, who'd encouraged her with knowing smiles and increasingly explicit suggestions. The lace had been her friend's idea.

"Men are simple creatures," Demeter had said, passing her another glass of wine. "Sometimes they need a little push in the right direction."

The push had worked. Almost too well.

Her teeth worried her lower lip as more memories surfaced. The way he'd pinned her wrists above her head. The dangerous edge in his voice when he'd demanded she repeat those three damning words.

If he hadn't stopped...

Something pressed insistently against her core, drawing her attention to their current position. She'd wrapped herself around him completely during the night - one leg hooked over his hip, arms locked around his torso. And his body had responded exactly as any healthy young man's would.

Heat pooled low in her stomach. She shifted slightly, testing, and had to bite back a moan at the friction. Even unconscious, he affected her like this. Made her burn.

His breathing remained deep and even. After their emotional breakthrough last night, she wouldn't wake him. Not yet. Instead, she studied his sleeping face, memorizing details she rarely got to observe while he was awake.

Long dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones, softening the sharp angles of his features. His usual guarded expression had smoothed away, leaving him looking younger. More vulnerable. Her chest ached at the sight.

"Mi sol precioso," she whispered, barely a breath against his skin.

The endearment caught in her throat as memories of Miguel surfaced. She'd loved him too, in a different way. As a mother loves a child. His death had nearly broken her.

But Cyrus...

Her arms tightened around him involuntarily. The mere thought of losing him sent panic clawing up her spine. If something happened to him...

She pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his scent to ground herself. No. She wouldn't let anything take him from her. She'd burn the world first.

His heartbeat remained steady under her palm, each thud a reminder that he was here. Safe. Hers.

But for how long?

The question nagged at her like a splinter beneath skin. He was mortal. Even if nothing happened to him, time would steal him eventually. And they couldn't...

Her hand drifted to her stomach, an ancient ache resurfacing. Gods couldn't bear children with mortals. It was one of the fundamental laws of their existence. She'd accepted that limitation ages ago.

But now, holding him like this, feeling his warmth seep into her bones...

Could I share him?

The thought appeared unbidden, shocking in its intensity. She was a goddess. Possessive by nature. The idea of sharing what was hers should have been unthinkable.

And yet...

She traced idle patterns on his chest, considering. A child would be impossible, but there were other ways to build family. Other women who might...

"Mmm." Cyrus shifted in his sleep, arm tightening around her waist.

The movement pressed him more firmly against her core, derailing her thoughts. Heat sparked through her veins, divine power rising to the surface in response. The air grew thick with it, tasting of summer storms.

His breathing changed subtly - shorter, less even. Close to waking then.

Good. They had plans today, after all. She'd arranged everything waiting for the perfect moment. And after last night's breakthrough...

"Buenos días, mi amor." She pressed a kiss to his throat, letting her lips linger on his pulse point.

His breath caught. "Quet..."

The sleep-rough quality of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She nipped lightly at his skin in response, drawing a low sound from his chest that vibrated through her.

"Sleep well?" Her question was muffled against his neck as she continued her exploration, marking a path up to his jaw.

His hand slid into her hair, grip tightening when she found a particularly sensitive spot. "You know I did."

"Mm. Good." She shifted deliberately against him, smiling at his sharp intake of breath. "Because we have plans today."