Chapter 7

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This is so fucking awkward, Elion mumbled to himself. He had woken to find his body tucked into Stavros's side. Their legs were slightly tangled and they were twisted in the blankets. After carefully extracting himself, he realized that at some point, Stavros had undressed. He realized this when the larger man rolled on to his side and Elion found his hip being stabbed with something that he wasn't sure if he should worship or be terrified of.

He swallowed hard and slid to the opposite edge of the bed and waited. He had no idea what time it was and his cell phone was in the living room. He wasn't even completely sure how he had ended up in the bedroom to begin with. After tapping his fingertips against the comforter and staring at the ceiling for an obscene amount of time he took to studying his bed mate. Stavros looked creepy when he slept, Elion decided quickly. A few times he was tempted to make sure the older man was even breathing.

He sighed, dragging a palm down his face. He knew he needed to wake him up. Despite not knowing the time, he knew they were probably late for work. Not that Stavros ever seemed to pay much attention to that fact, he just kind of came and went as he pleased.

With a hesitant hand, he reached over and gently shook Stavros. The older man's eyes shot open and a large hand gripped Elion's wrist painfully tight. He quickly reclaimed his focus and released his partner, not missing the way Elion's breath hitched and the fear that flashed through him.

Stavros didn't say a word as he threw back the blankets and got out of bed. Elion felt his skin heat up with the strongest blush he'd ever experienced. He desperately tried to avert his eyes away from the masterpiece standing beside the bed in all of his naked glory. He may or may not have whimpered into the blanket that he pulled to his chin.

"Do you plan on getting up?" Stavros grumbled, a brow arched and his shame non existent.

"Why are you naked?" He croaked, his eyes staying downcast and he swung his legs off the side of the large bed.

Stavros gave him a blank look before looking down and then back up with an almost adorable confusion. "An elf ashamed of nudity? How fucking innocent are you, brat?" He mumbled, though it seemed like an actual question.

Elion huffed, shoving his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Just because we're not ashamed of what the spirits gave us doesn't mean we're okay with strangers shoving their bodies in our face. And quit calling me that!"

He started towards the bathroom only to find himself hitting the edge of their bond with a harsh yank. Stavros huffed and headed towards his closet, ignoring the glare from the younger man. Yea, their day wasn't going to be any different than normal.

"Couldyou not?" Stavros growled. Elion stopped tapping his pen against his desk and looked up with a smug smirk.

"Is there anything that doesn't annoy you?" He sighed.

"Yea, peace and quiet. Get up, I need to talk to Mikhail."

Elion remained at his desk. He folded his fingers behind his head and leaned back casually.

"Are you deaf?" Stavros asked harshly.

"I'm not sure. Did I not hear you say please, or did you just neglect to speak civilly as usual?" Elion hummed, tapping his foot tiredly.

Stavros looked absolutely murderous. His fists clenched at his sides and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Get up or I'll get you up."

Elion's father had always taught him to pick his battles wisely. In his home realm he started warrior training at seven years old, like most of the children that were selected for that path. They were taught patience, skill and how to keep their wits in the face of an enemy. They were taught when to fight and when to retreat with dignity. They were taught that some enemies were not to be fought alone, and that didn't make them weak, it made them smart.

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