CHAPTER 78: CHAPTER 78: VICTOR’S CARE

By the time evening filtered in through the curtains, dim and gold-tinged, Elias had lost track of how many times Victor had pulled him back beneath him, again, and then again. He lay sprawled on the tangled bed now, flushed skin tacky with sweat, lips parted around shallow breaths, Victor’s shirt that he dressed in at some point, now long discarded and replaced only by a thin sheen of heat.

His thighs ached, his hips were sore from the rhythm Victor had refused to break until Elias was hoarse and trembling, his throat dry from gasping and pleading and half-formed curses that dissolved between kisses. His entire body throbbed with something in between pain and pleasure, the echo of having been claimed and held and pushed past his own limits until all that remained was sensation.

He felt leaking, slick pooled beneath him, and the slow, pulsing stretch that came from being filled for hours. Victor hadn’t just taken him, he had left his presence in every nerve. Every breath Elias took was steeped in pheromones and red ether, thick and cloying, still lingering in the corners of the room like smoke.

Elias shifted an inch and groaned low under his breath from sheer overuse. He buried his face into the edge of a pillow, eyelids fluttering shut.

"This is not sustainable," he muttered, voice dry and wrecked, as if his bones were made of ash. "You’re not even human."

Victor, somewhere behind him, just out of reach, gave a low, satisfied sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a purr. The air shimmered faintly. When Elias blinked his eyes open again, adjusting to the dark, he realized Victor was glowing.

Not metaphorically.

His skin, kissed by light, shimmered with a faint, divine iridescence, as though every time he came inside Elias, something old and dangerous stirred awake under the surface. His red eyes, no longer dulled by restraint, gleamed like low embers in a dying hearth.

"You’re glowing," Elias said flatly.

Victor, seated beside him with one arm propped behind his head and the other loosely draped across Elias’s lower back, smirked. "You noticed."

"Hard not to," Elias rasped. "My legs are shaking. I think you broke me."

Victor leaned down, nose brushing just behind Elias’s ear as his hand slid over the small of his back, reverent. "You will heal in no time."

Elias huffed, too drained to muster anything more than mild sarcasm. "That sounds like something a war god tells his favorite weapon."

Victor chuckled, the sound low and rough, still wrecked from earlier. "Then it’s fitting. You are my favorite."

His palm flattened between Elias’s shoulder blades, heat and power radiating from it. Elias could feel it hum through his skin like a chord being plucked, like every bruise and ache was being cataloged by something not entirely mortal.

"Don’t," Elias muttered, eyes barely open. "Don’t you dare start one more time. Shouldn’t you check who was knocking on the door?"

Victor’s hand didn’t move, just settled there, possessive, glowing faintly red where skin met skin. He exhaled, and Elias felt the sound more than heard it, a low, amused rumble that stirred along the shell of his ear.

"Whoever knocked," Victor said, voice velvet-dry, "has either left, died of shame, or realized I was... occupied."

Elias groaned. "They could’ve been important."

Victor hummed. "You are important."

The heat from his palm deepened, a low pulse of power threading back into Elias’s muscles like silk drawn through bone. Not quite healing, but something gentler, soothing the strain, dulling the soreness just enough to keep Elias pliant in his arms.

"Victor," Elias warned, though it came out more of a rasp. "If I feel even one spark of divine energy aimed at anything south of my spine, I’m crawling out the window."

Victor laughed, the sound unrepentant and pleased. "You can’t even stand."

Elias reached behind him to smack weakly at Victor’s thigh. "That’s not the point."

Victor caught the hand easily, lacing their fingers together before guiding it back to rest on Elias’s chest. "Then sleep. I already locked the door. Whoever was knocking can come back when I’m decent."

"And when will that be?" Elias asked, suspicious.

Victor grinned against his shoulder. "Give me a week."

—

Victor moved slowly, as if any sudden shift might shatter the fragile state Elias had sunk into. He pressed one last kiss to the curve of Elias’s shoulder, then carefully gathered him up, arms slipping beneath his knees and back. Elias stirred faintly but didn’t protest, too wrung out to form words, his head lolled against Victor’s chest, hair damp with sweat, breath soft and uneven.

The bathroom was already warm; Victor had willed it so before lifting him. The lights glowed low, casting the marble in a hushed amber that made the whole room feel like it had been carved from candlelight. He set Elias down gently on the edge of the tub, supporting him with one hand as he ran water with the other. The steam rose gradually, perfumed with something faintly herbal and calming.

Elias blinked at him, bleary-eyed. "You don’t have to..."

"Hush." Victor’s voice was gentler than a command but firm in its certainty. "Let me."

He helped Elias into the water and eased in behind him, cradling him against his chest as the heat wrapped around them both. He poured warm water over Elias’s shoulders, watching it trace each line of bone and tension. With a cloth, he began to clean him with gentle care.

Elias’s breath deepened. By the time Victor pressed a final kiss to the crown of his head and helped him from the bath, the omega was barely conscious, pliant and warm in his arms.

Victor dried him with a soft towel, dressed him in a clean linen shirt, and laid him down in the newly changed bed linens, covering him with a heavy throw. Elias mumbled something incoherent, then turned his face into the pillow, already halfway to sleep.

Only then did Victor dress.

He chose simplicity, black slacks, a thin cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The night air had cooled slightly. He opened the window just enough to let it in, then crossed the room and sank into the armchair near it, facing the door.

The red glow in his eyes dimmed to something thoughtful.

A long moment passed in silence.

Then he spoke, voice low but cutting through the quiet like drawn steel.

"You can come in now, Ashwin."