The first amber rays of the morning sun pierced the thin material of the tent, painting the interior in hues of soft gold and long, dancing shadows.
Outside, the meadow on the outskirts of Orario was still draped in the gossamer veil of dawn mist, the wildflowers nodding under the weight of the dew.
Inside, the air remained heavy with the lingering scent of musk, crushed grass, and the faint, scent of perfume.
Draco stirred first, his senses registering the shift from night to day.
Beside him, Bahamut tossed and turned groggily, her silver hair spilling across the blankets like a river of moonlight.
For a moment, Draco allowed himself to simply watch her.
The urge to pull her back into his arms, to lose himself once more in the warmth of her embrace, was a physical gravity pulling at his heart.
However, the world beyond their sanctuary was already waking up.
The distant tolling of a bell from the direction of Orario sounded, faint but unmistakable.
Orario was stirred by the rhythm of commerce and the clatter of steel.
"We should move," Draco whispered, his voice gravelly from sleep and the night's exertions.
Bahamut groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal pupils that glowed with a faint luminescence.
She didn't disagree, though she clung to his arm for a fleeting second longer than necessary.
Getting dressed was a quiet, domestic affair, though their movements were hurried.
They both knew the risks of being seen.
An adventurer and his patron goddess sneaking back into the gates at dawn after a night in the wilderness was the sort of scandal that would fuel the gossip mills of Orario's taverns and inns.
Stepping out of the tent, Draco felt the crisp morning air bite at his skin, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth they had left behind.
He didn't waste time.
With a focused breath, he channeled his spirit transformation wind magic.
A swirling sphere of localized air currents coalesced around them, lifting the tent, the discarded supplies, and the remnants of their date into a cohesive, weightless mass.
He could have used his wings, but flying under his own power with a load would have been cumbersome and risked tearing their fine clothes.
Bahamut stepped into the sphere beside him, her small frame leaning heavily into his side.
Her hands clutched his waist, seeking balance, and as they rose, their long, reptilian tails naturally sought each other out, intertwining in a subconscious gesture of intimacy.
With a sudden, sharp swoosh, the tall grass of the meadow was flattened in a perfect circle.
They rocketed upward, the wind magic dampening the force but leaving the exhilaration of the ascent.
Below them, the sprawling city of Orario rushed toward them.
From this height, the Tower of Babel looked like a needle stitching the earth to the sky.
In the blink of an eye, the familiar architecture of the Bahamut Familia manor appeared below.
It was a grand structure, built with materials that seemed to shimmer like dragon scales under the morning sun.
Draco guided the wind sphere through a steep descent, touching down in front of the main entrance behind the gates.
The landing was soft, but the hum of his magic as it dissipated drew the attention of a few eyes walking along the street.
Draco ignored their curious, wide-eyed stares.
He was currently operating on fumes.
Even for a man who could trade blows with the most terrifying monsters in the deep floors, a night of intimacy with a dragon goddess was a different kind of marathon.
Bahamut was petite, but her origin afforded her a stamina that was, quite frankly, terrifying. During the mid-hours of the night, she had become particularly physical, her strength reminding him that beneath her beautiful exterior lived the primal essence of a dragon.
He glanced down at her.
Bahamut was rubbing her groggy eyes with the back of her hand, looking remarkably like a kitten despite her status.
Yet, as she tried to step away from him, her legs buckled.
She swayed, her face flushing as she avoided his gaze.
Draco couldn't help it.
A proud, low chuckle escaped his chest.
The sound made Bahamut's ears twitch.
She remained silent, her gaze fixed stubbornly on a patch of clover near her feet.
Draco watched her, his heart swelling.
'She'll get used to it in time' he thought, though he knew better than to say it aloud.
The pride of a goddess was a fragile thing in the morning light.
He leaned in, a smug expression dancing on his features.
"Do you want me to carry you to bed now, or do you want to eat something first?"
Bahamut finally looked up, her silver eyes narrowing into a sharp frown.
Without a word, she lashed out with her tail, aiming a playful but firm swat at his buttocks. Draco, his reflexes still sharp despite the fatigue, danced back with a grin, dodging the strike.
The abrupt movement, however, was too much for Bahamut's trembling knees.
Her legs gave way completely this time.
Before she could hit the ground, Draco blurred.
He caught her in a single, fluid motion, sweeping her up into a princess carry.
"Let me....." Bahamut started, her voice a mix of indignation and exhaustion.
Draco didn't let her finish.
He leaned down and silenced her with a deep, lingering kiss.
It wasn't the fiery passion of the night before, but a slow, grounding connection that seemed to pull the very tension from her bones.
When they finally parted, Bahamut's head slumped against his shoulder, her resistance evaporated.
"Still mad at me?" Draco whispered into her ear.
"Hmmmf," she scoffed, though the way she tucked her red-flushed face into the crook of his neck told a different story.
They stayed like that for a moment, the world around them blurring.
The hunger that had been satiated minutes ago began to stir again as Draco's fingers unconsciously brushed against the skin beneath the hem of her clothing.
The air between them grew thick once more, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the wake of a fresh spark.
"Ahem."
The sound was like a bucket of ice water.
Draco and Bahamut both jumped, the sudden movement nearly causing Draco to drop her.
They turned their heads in unison toward the entrance of the manor.
Standing by the heavy doors was Aasterinian.
The blue-scaled dragon goddess was leaning against the stone frame, a knowing, mischievous smile playing across her lips.
Her eyes danced with amusement as she took in the sight of Orario's strongest adventurer holding their patron deity like a prize from a quest.
"Ah!" Draco and Bahamut gasped simultaneously.
The spell was broken.
Bahamut scrambled with a frantic energy Draco didn't know she had left.
She twisted out of his arms, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Without glancing back, her figure became a silver blur as she bolted past Aasterinian, her footsteps echoing loudly in the grand foyer before she scrambled up the stairs toward the third floor.
Draco stood there, arms still slightly raised as if holding an invisible weight.
He and Aasterinian shared a long, silent look.
The only sound was the distant slam of a bedroom door upstairs.
"Well," Aasterinian broke the silence, her voice smooth.
"That was certainly an interesting reaction."
Draco sighed, his shoulders dropping as he allowed his exhaustion to finally settle in.
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat in his own cheeks.
"I don't think she'll want to talk to anyone for a while."
"True," Aasterinian replied, stepping further away from the door.
"Even I would be a bit embarrassed if I were caught in such a compromising position by a friend."
Draco gave her a skeptical look, his tired brain trying to process her teasing.
"You? Embarrassed?"
Aasterinian's smile vanished, replaced by a deep, mock-offended frown.
"And what is that supposed to mean? While I am a goddess, I am also a lady, you know. I possess a certain... delicacy."
Draco realized his mistake a second too late.
He raised a hand in a peaceful gesture.
"Ah, sorry. That was disrespectful of me, Lady Asta."
She hummed, eyeing him up and down.
"However, that aside, you don't seem all that embarrassed yourself. You're remarkably composed for a man who was just caught 'attacking' his goddess in broad daylight."
Draco gave a tired, half-shrug.
"Trust me, Lady Asta, I am very much embarrassed. However, the one who caught us was just you... so..."
He didn't get to finish.
Aasterinian's hand moved faster than a striking viper.
A sharp, stinging blow landed squarely in his stomach.
"Gah!" Draco doubled over, the air rushing out of his lungs in a pained wheeze.
It wasn't a strike meant to injure, but it was perfectly placed to knock the wind out of him.
"What was that for?" he managed to choke out, clutching his midsection.
Aasterinian swept past him toward the gates, her tail flicking with a hint of sass.
"Figure that out yourself, unruly child."
Draco watched her go, a confused frown marring his face until she disappeared into the morning bustle of the streets.
He shook his head.
Women were truly the most mercurial beings in existence.
Summoning the last of his energy, he set about the mundane task of unpacking.
The tent was cleaned and folded, the leftover supplies stowed away, and the traces of their outing erased from the yard.
It was rhythmic work that allowed his mind to drift.
He thought of the five years he had spent away from this city, the long journey, and the isolation soon after.
Coming back had been a whirlwind.
Meeting the young sprout, Bell Cranel, had been an unexpected highlight….
And then there was the night just passed.
It felt like a dream, a huge milestone in his relationship with Bahamut.
Once everything was in its place, Draco trudged up to the third floor.
He paused outside Bahamut's door, knocking softly.
"My lady? Do you want some breakfast before you sleep?"
There was no answer.
He eased the door open a crack.
The curtains were drawn, and the room was bathed in a soft, dim light.
Bahamut was sprawled across the center of her massive bed, already deep in the throes of a dream-heavy sleep.
Her silver hair was a tangled halo around her head.
Draco stepped inside quietly.
He reached out, gently parting the strands of hair from her face, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.
She let out a tiny, contented sigh in her sleep, a sound that made the corners of his mouth twitch upward.
Leaving her to her rest, he retreated to his own room on the same floor.
He stripped off his clothes, took a bracingly cold shower to wash away the sweat and the scent of the meadow, and finally collapsed onto his bed.
As he stared up at the ornate carvings on the ceiling, the adrenaline of the return finally faded, replaced by a heavy, crushing lull.
His journey back to Orario was complete, but the future loomed large.
His familia members were still out on an expedition, and he knew that when they returned, his quiet days would be over.
"I can't wait to see them," he muttered, his voice trailing off.
Within minutes, the exhaustion claimed him, and Draco drifted into a dreamless sleep.