THE REALM WITHOUT A NAME

Part 26 🕯️: Closer Than Breath

"No," he murmured. "I'm matching your fire."

Then-his lips grazed mine.
Just a trace. Enough to ruin me
and hold me together in the same breath.

I made a sound-soft, involuntary-and he answered it by deepening the contact, but still slow.
Like even this moment was a kind of worship. And when we finally pulled apart, I saw it in his eyes.

He wanted more...But he'd wait.
For me. For the next time.
For the moment I said- "Don't stop."

My forehead still rested against his.
Neither of us moved. His hand stayed at the nape of my neck, the other now resting on my waist.
He held me as if I were the most breakable thing he never wanted to see broken.

"That wasn't a mistake, was it?" I whispered.

"I don't make mistakes," he said, low. "Only decisions."

"And that was a decision?"

"No," he said. "That was something beyond me."

I shifted slightly, my knees pressing against his hips now. His eyes closed.
Tightly.

"Are you in pain?" I asked.

"No. Just..."His breath stuttered."You."
He tilted his head back against the throne, exposing the line of his throat.
And gods...the way his chest rose-he was shaking.
Not like fear...Like restraint.

"If you don't want more, Lu..." he said, strained,"say it now."

I leaned forward, pressing my lips under his jaw.
A kiss so light I barely felt it myself.
But he did. He groaned. Like I'd touched something sacred.

"I don't know what I want," I whispered.

"Then I'll stop."

"No."

"Lu..."

"Just hold me."

He did.
His arms wrapped around me tightly now-protective, hungry, infinite.
And I sank into his warmth, resting my head over his heart.
If it beat-it was for me.

And in that stillness, in that throne of shadows, wrapped in a warmth that shouldn't exist-I whispered what scared me most:

"You feel like home."

His hand stilled on my back.
Then slowly- "So do you."

I nuzzled into the curve of his neck, my arms wrapping around him like I'd always meant to rest there.
His scent wasn't like anything from my world. Not cologne, not warmth, not metal.

Just... him.
A blend of dusk and flame, of pages long burned and memories never spoken aloud.

I felt it-the faintest rhythm
beneath his skin.
A pulse, Slow, Deep.
Like something ancient had finally woken for me.
His arms didn't loosen. If anything, they pulled me closer, until I could barely breathe.

And yet-I didn't want to.
Not without him.

"You're still awake," he whispered against my temple.

"Barely..."

"Then sleep."

"Only if you don't let go."

"I wouldn't dare."

I drifted, Bit by bit. Like falling into water that was somehow warm,
and endless, and waiting for me alone.
And before I lost myself completely-I felt it.

Him. Standing.
Lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, one hand beneath my knees,
The other steady at my back, my cheek still pressed to his neck.
Still feeling that pulse.