The morning light was softer than the day before, washed out and silvery against the frost on the window. Elias blinked into it, slow and bleary, the smell of clean sheets and the heavier scent of Victor still wrapped around him like a second blanket. His muscles ached in a low, pleasant way; every shift of his hips made a memory rise, heat blooming faintly under his skin.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, one arm thrown over his eyes. Gods, he was actually flushed at his own thoughts.
When he tried to move again, something heavier stopped him. Victor's arm was draped across his waist, big hand splayed over his stomach, thumb rubbing an absent circle against his skin. The alpha's breath was warm at his shoulder, slow and steady, but his crimson eyes were open and watching. There was no shame, no pretense of sleep.
"You're awake," Elias muttered, voice scratchy.
