I want to keep doing it forever

Ren didn't dream.Not of gods, or chains, or even the monstrous throne he might've once claimed.

When he finally slept, it was deep and dark, every thought lulled by Lyra's breath against his throat. Her leg was still thrown possessively over his hip, her hand curled on his chest as if daring anything — god, system, fate itself — to tear them apart.

He woke slowly. Warm. Heavy. The quiet tick of lanterns burning low was the only sound, until Lyra stirred with a tiny murmur.

Then her body shifted. Her thigh brushed along his length, already half hard just from the nearness of her.

He groaned, low and embarrassed at how quickly need returned.

"Mm," Lyra mumbled against his skin, her voice husky with sleep. "Already again?"

"Apparently," he muttered. "And you're not helping."

Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile against his collarbone. Then she deliberately rolled her hips, letting her soft heat press exactly where he was hardest. His breath caught — and hers did too, as if surprised by her own boldness.

"Then maybe I am helping," she whispered.

Her teasing only lasted a heartbeat. He pulled her fully on top of him, hands splaying over her thighs, then sliding up to grip her waist. She let out a startled laugh that dissolved into a soft sigh when he guided her down, the slick brush of her center over him making them both shudder.

They didn't go further than that — not yet. Just slow, lazy rocking. Her hair curtained around their faces, her lips tracing gentle paths along his jaw.

"You're different like this," she murmured. "Soft. Almost… shy."

"I'm terrified," he admitted, voice cracking on the confession. "Because it's you. And every time I touch you, I realize how badly I want to keep doing it forever."

Her breath stuttered. Then she kissed him — slow, aching, her hips moving with subtle promise.

"Then don't stop wanting it," she whispered. "I want to be ruined by your need every day. Not because you own me. Because you love me so much it scares us both."

His hand slipped up, cupping her cheek. "You're a dangerous woman, Lyra. You'll break me long before the gods ever do."

"Good," she breathed. "Because I'd rather shatter you with my love than watch them chain you again."

They lingered like that, trading soft kisses, hands wandering with lazy familiarity. Her fingers traced old scars on his chest, pausing at each as if to press tiny blessings into the wounds. When she shifted, their bodies brushed just right, drawing quiet sighs from both of them.

Eventually Lyra tucked her head under his chin, tracing idle shapes on his stomach. "Tell me something you've never told anyone."

He huffed a soft laugh, tightening his hold around her. "That list is long."

"Good. I want them all. Every ugly, frightened, hopeless piece of you."

His throat bobbed. Then he exhaled. "When I was a boy, maybe nine, I snuck into the old temple in my father's city. I tried to steal a pendant from the altar. Thought maybe if I wore something blessed, I'd stop feeling… wrong."

Lyra lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes. "And?"

"It burned me. The moment I touched it. Left a mark on my hand for weeks. I told everyone I fell in the kitchen hearth. But I knew it was the gods. Even back then they hated me."

Her eyes glistened. "Not the gods. Just the fate they wanted for you."

He kissed her, hard. Then softer, like an apology. "Your turn."

She hesitated, lashes dropping. "I used to envy mortals," she confessed in a tiny voice. "The way they loved. The way they hurt. Even the way they died. It all seemed so… bright. I thought being divine meant I was above all that. Now I think maybe I was just hollow."

"You're not hollow anymore," he whispered fiercely. "I promise I'll fill you so full of this messy, terrifying mortal life you'll forget you were ever anything else."

Her shaky laugh turned into another kiss — one that might've led them right back into tangled limbs and muffled moans if not for the sudden cold that swept through the room.

The warmth of their nest vanished.Lyra stiffened on top of him, her eyes darting to the doorway.

Saphira stood there. Regal, unblinking, her violet robes drifting like spectral flame. Her gaze slid over them — Ren naked beneath Lyra, Lyra flushed and breathless on his lap. One elegant brow arched.

"Well," she drawled, "this is charmingly mortal of you both."

Lyra made a strangled noise somewhere between outrage and embarrassment. She scrambled off Ren, dragging a sheet around herself, but not before giving him a scandalized smack on the shoulder that only made Saphira's smile tilt colder.

Ren sat up, glaring. "A little privacy would be respectful."

"Respect is earned," Saphira said coolly. "And time is short. I allowed your… indulgences. Even encouraged them, because I suspected you'd fight better for something you feared to lose. But now you must dress. Now."

Something in her tone made Ren's stomach tighten. "What happened?"

Saphira's smile vanished. Her eyes glittered with something like anger. Or maybe fear.

"Amara's mirror was not just for you," she said softly. "Your defiance of that dark version has upset the balance more than expected. There are gods now calling for your immediate obliteration — saying you've become a threat to the very bindings of fate."

Lyra paled. "They would dare—"

"They are gods," Saphira snapped. "They dare anything. And they've sent an envoy. He waits in the throne hall below. With enough power to tear this palace apart."

Ren stood, unbothered by his nakedness, though his muscles tensed like a drawn bow. "Who?"

"Aeris' brother," Saphira said grimly. "Caelis. God of Judged Souls. He claims your trials are void, that your system is a corruption that must be purged."

Lyra's hand found Ren's without thinking. Her fingers were icy. He squeezed back, once, hard.

Saphira's gaze softened by a hair. "Dress. Come quickly. Your life — and perhaps this entire fragile chain of divine wagers — balances on what happens next."

They were still breathing too quickly, still flushed from tender, filthy confessions just moments ago. But as Ren pulled on dark robes and Lyra wrapped herself in silver, their eyes found each other.

And they shared a single truth:No matter how soft the dawn, the world would never leave them in peace for long.