Chapter Eighteen

I yawned, stretching, worn out but incredibly happy. I was still wearing Jiron's shirt – it was loose enough on my smaller form that he'd been able to do what he wanted to me without needing to remove it – and amber eyes tracked me hungrily as I rolled over.

Hungry…but also sleepy, for they were half-lidded as he lazed on the bed and watched me. Perhaps in time I'd tease him about his advanced years , pretending to tug at non-existent grey hairs and poke dubiously at the toned stomach that didn't hold an ounce of fat, but for now, his voiced doubts still echoed around my head. He'd thought himself too old for me? Too big? I was going to spend years proving that he was perfect in every way.

I yawned again. "I suppose I should go to work," I said reluctantly, trailing my bare foot up his thick, powerful calf and savouring the ticklishness of his leg hair beneath my toes.

But Jiron just snorted. "You, sweet boy, have an extremely loose relationship with time."

I cocked my head in question and one of his thick thighs slipped between my legs, forcing them apart.

"It's nearly sunset, Wyatt," he murmured, catching my chin and turning it towards the window where sure enough, hazy pinks and oranges graced the sky beyond the glass. "You would be several hours late for your shift… if I had not sent a message to the palace this morning excusing you from it."

By the Blessed Five, had we really spent a whole day in bed together? That was incredible. Could we try for a week?

I grinned and patted him on the head in reward for his deliciously optimistic forward-thinking. He'd known he was going to get laid.

My giant growled in playful warning and pulled back to snap his teeth at my outstretched fingers. I taunted him by waving them in front of his face, daring to get closer and closer, and only acknowledging my mistake the moment his own hand shot out and locked around my wrist. Jiron was fast, and clearly not inclined to give me the mercy I begged for when his lips closed over my fingers and he sucked and nipped at them with attentive diligence that had me squirming with the implication it promised.

So maybe I hadn't been begging very hard.

And then I realised something. "But you were meant to be working today, too, daddy."

Jiron nodded, drawing his mouth off my hand. A string of saliva stretched between his lips and my fingers, and I stared at it, entranced, as it snapped and fell. "I was."

"But you…you just…" Words were failing me. "You never take days off."

"Maybe that was my mistake."

When I continued to stare at him, Jiron offered a rueful smile.

"I want...no, I need to be the best I can be for my king before I can serve him properly once more," he said quietly, his expression sobering. "Ren needs to be able to completely trust me to have his back. I need to be able to trust myself."

"Well, I trust you," I muttered. "But it doesn't seem like you to-"

"I'm not giving up, little one," said Jiron, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. I leaned into it, my eyes fluttering closed. "One day I will again stand proudly by His Majesty's side, and Elías better watch himself if he wishes to retain the position of Comandante."

I grinned at that. My daddy, head of Quareh's military? Hell fucking yes, Elías better watch himself. Now that Jiron had voiced the ambition, I'd do anything it took to see him achieve it. I wasn't above a little creative sabotage if that's what it took, and I knew exactly which plant's leaves would leave a rather distracting rash on a person's...

"But I've tried pushing through and ignoring what happened to me," Jiron added softly. "I've tried locking that shit down and pretending nothing's wrong and working myself to the bone in the hope I'll be too exhausted to remember to be scared. None of it has worked, not until…being with you today. It was the first thing to ever leech any power from the memories, and I have you to thank for that, little one."

I leaned into him and Jiron hummed happily.

"So you're trying something different?" I asked in a whisper, barely daring to believe what he was saying. That he was permitting himself to have something for him, able to be a person and not just the king's guard. "Where you feed me more fruit and fuck me and we never, ever leave this bed?"

Jiron laughed. It rumbled through both of us.

"I was going to say that I'm allowing myself a break every now and then. That instead of forcing whatever's fucked up in my head to heal, I'm going to give it what it actually needs to do that."

"And that is..." I prompted.

I knew what the real answer was, the boring answer.

Rest, space, time. Acceptance.

Jiron sat up and lifted me onto his lap without effort, turning me so we faced each other. Gentle hands roved down to my hips.

"Feeding you fruit," he teased.

He leaned in and kissed me. Our lips brushed, soft and slow and sweet.

"Fucking you."

I smirked and stole a second kiss.

"And never leaving this bed, little one."

"Ever, daddy." I snuggled into his arms. Forget a week: I was determined to keep us in here for at least a month while I learned everything about him. "You forgot the never ever ."

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THE END