Chapter 97: Strange Morning

Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Strange Morning

Sebastian could barely open his eyes.

Morning clung to him, leaving his thoughts half-dissolved in sleep while pale sunlight pressed through the curtains and spread in golden lines across the bed. The sheets were twisted low around his legs, the air carried the clean scent of expensive linen and the faint lingering trace of Nero’s pheromones, and somewhere nearby a wardrobe door stood ajar, letting in a sliver of brighter light from the adjoining dressing room.

That should have been the first sign that something was different.

The second was Nero.

He was straddling Sebastian’s hips with complete confidence, his knees braced on either side of him, his weight settling through the mattress while long fingers worked their way beneath the hem of Sebastian’s sleep shirt as if the garment existed purely to inconvenience him.

"Come on, my moon," Nero murmured, his voice rough with sleep and desire in a way Sebastian had never heard outside imagination, and yet it carried the easy familiarity of someone who had spoken like that a hundred times before. "You’ve been awake for nearly thirty seconds. I refuse to believe that qualifies as suffering."

Sebastian made a noise that was supposed to be a protest and turned his face into the pillow.

Nero’s hands slid higher over his skin.

Warm palms. Long fingers. Possessive without hesitation.

The shirt was pushed up past Sebastian’s ribs, cool morning air brushing over his stomach before Nero bent and pressed his mouth there, one lazy kiss just above his navel, followed by another slightly higher.

Sebastian’s entire body tightened.

That part, apparently, understood morning much better than the rest of him.

"Nero," he said, though the name came out thick and unsteady, his hand finding white-blond hair by instinct as he forced his eyes open at last.

Then he froze.

Nero lifted his head, violet eyes meeting his with a faintly puzzled amusement, and for one bewildering second Sebastian forgot every other thought because Nero’s hair was short.

Not just shorter.

Short.

Soft pale strands fell around his face and brushed the tops of his ears, styled with the same elegant carelessness Christopher wore when he was not bothering with court formality. It made Nero look younger and sharper at once, his cheekbones more pronounced, his throat more exposed, and somehow the entire effect was so beautiful that Sebastian’s hand remained buried in it on pure disbelief alone.

Nero’s brows rose.

"What?"

Sebastian pushed himself halfway upright, which only made Nero settle his weight more firmly over his hips.

"Your hair."

Nero tilted his head.

"My hair."

"Yes, your hair." Sebastian caught both sides of his face and stared at him as though more looking might restore the missing length. "Where is the rest of it?"

Real confusion entered Nero’s expression.

"The rest of what?"

"Your long hair."

Understanding reached him a second later, followed by a low, warm laugh that traveled through Sebastian’s body like a physical thing.

"Oh, that."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

"That is not a normal response."

Nero bent closer until the loose ends of his short hair brushed Sebastian’s forehead.

"You asked me to keep it this way."

"When?"

"When I cut it at fifteen and decided that setting half my training room on fire was apparently a reasonable use of an enigma’s pheromones." His mouth curved. "You informed me that the shorter style made me look less unbearable and that if I ever grew it out again, you would consider it a personal offense."

Sebastian stared at him.

A strange sensation moved through him, not fear exactly, but disorientation sharpened by the impossible ease of the moment.

The room around them felt lived in.

On the chair near the windows lay one of Sebastian’s jackets thrown over the back beside Nero’s dark coat, and a pair of boots stood beneath it, one larger than the other. A book rested open on the bedside table beside a half-empty glass of water, and a silver watch Sebastian recognized as his own had been left carelessly on top of a folded handkerchief bearing the Altera crest.

Lovers.

The thought landed with quiet certainty.

Not new lovers.

Not tentative lovers.

This was the room of two people who had shared mornings for years.

Nero seemed to read some part of the realization in his face because his expression softened.

"My moon," he said, quieter now, one hand moving up to cup Sebastian’s jaw. "Are you still waking up?"

Sebastian looked at him.

At the short blond hair.

At the unguarded affection in his face.

At the ease with which he remained draped over Sebastian’s body as though possession had long ago become ordinary.

And then, because some traitorous part of him clearly accepted the entire absurdity, he asked, "How long?"

Nero’s thumb brushed slowly over his cheekbone.

"How long what?"

"How long have you looked like this?"

The laughter returned, gentler now, and Nero lowered himself until their chests nearly touched.

"Since I was fifteen." His purple eyes searched Sebastian’s face with growing amusement. "Why? Have you lost your memories?"

Before Sebastian could answer, Nero bent and kissed the sensitive place beneath his ear, then dragged his tongue slowly over the same spot.

Sebastian shivered.

"What—" His thoughts scattered badly enough that he needed another second to catch them. "When did we become like this?"

He tried to push Nero back enough to look at him properly, but the enigma only caught his wrist, pressed it into the pillow beside Sebastian’s head, and returned to his neck with the casual confidence of someone who had done this countless times before.

Then Nero’s mouth settled over one particular spot.

Sebastian froze.

A sharp pulse of sensation went through him when Nero sucked gently against the skin, followed by the faint scrape of teeth over something that felt strangely sensitive.

Something already there.

Sebastian’s free hand flew to Nero’s shoulder.

"Nero."

The prince hummed against his neck.

Sebastian twisted enough to see himself in the mirrored wardrobe across the room.

There was a mark beneath his ear.

A permanent bond mark sat against his skin, darker at the center where Nero’s teeth had once broken it, surrounded by the faint silvered pattern that only appeared after years of repeated pheromonal exchange.

Sebastian stopped breathing.

Nero finally lifted his head.

"What?"

Sebastian touched the mark with trembling fingers.

Nero watched him, his earlier amusement slowly fading.

"How long?"

A crease appeared between his pale brows.

"How long what?"

"Us."

That seemed to genuinely confuse him.

Sebastian swallowed.

"Nero. How long have we been together?"

For several seconds, Nero simply stared.

Then his expression changed into something Sebastian could not immediately understand—concern softened by affection, as though Sebastian had asked what year it was after waking from an illness.

"Four years."

Sebastian’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Nero released his wrist and sat back slightly, though he remained astride Sebastian’s hips.

"You came to me when I was twenty-one," he said slowly. "You remember that."

Sebastian could only look at him.

Twenty-one.

Nero had waited.

Sebastian started to understand that this was another timeline he and Nero had.

Nero’s hand slid along his face, thumb brushing carefully beneath Sebastian’s eye.

"You’re frightening me now."

The words were quiet enough to hurt.

Sebastian caught his wrist.

"I’m fine."

Nero’s gaze sharpened immediately.

Sebastian almost laughed because apparently some things survived every possible version of them.

He corrected himself.

"I don’t know."

That was enough.

Nero leaned down again, but this time there was no teasing in the movement. He pressed his forehead against Sebastian’s and released a slow wave of pheromones around them, smoke and burning wood settling into the sheets with the familiarity of home.

Sebastian closed his eyes.

His body recognized it.

Worse, some part of his mind did too.

Four years of mornings like this seemed to exist just beyond reach, close enough that he could almost touch them if he stopped thinking too hard.

Nero kissed his mark once, gently.

"You’re with me," he murmured.

Sebastian opened his eyes.

The room was beginning to blur.