Celestial Emperor of Shadow

Warmth Against His Back

Victor lay against the mattress, letting his muscles finally loosen. The room felt calm for the first time in hours—quiet enough that he could hear the faint hum of the chandelier overhead, soft enough that he could feel every slow rise and fall of his breath.

He rested on his side, eyes half-open, mind still drifting over the tangled mess of decisions waiting for him. Convincing his mother. Preparing for the competition. The other world. The hidden legacy.

He exhaled, long and steady.

His body began to sink deeper into the bed—

—then he felt it.

A gentle weight pressed against his back.

Warm. Soft.

So delicate it almost felt like a dream brushing against his skin.

His breath caught.

For a heartbeat he didn't move.

He let the sensation settle, melt into him.

Then—slowly—he turned.

The moment he shifted, something even softer grazed the side of his neck. A light, warm exhale. Then fingers trailing up his shoulder, sliding across his skin with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew every inch of him.

A melodic voice whispered against him, low, warm, and unmistakably teasing:

"My love… what are you thinking about?"

Victor didn't even need to look.

He already knew.

The silver hair brushing his nape gave it away.

The warmth.

The way her voice sank straight into his chest like it belonged there.

He turned fully, and Violet's face came into view—close, relaxed, her expression dipped into that soft mixture of curiosity and affection she only showed when the world was quiet and he was the only one she cared to see.

He breathed out a faint laugh.

"I should've known it was you."

"You always should," she murmured, smiling as she slid a hand to his chest. "Now answer me. What kept you thinking so deeply that you didn't even notice me climb onto the bed?"

"Nothing serious," he lied gently. "Just thinking about the martial competition."

Violet gave a tiny, knowing nod.

"Mm. I thought so."

Her fingers made slow circles against his chest, small movements that sent a warm prickling through him. She knew he was hiding the heavier thoughts, but she didn't push—not yet.

Then she exhaled softly and leaned in until her forehead almost touched his.

"But," she whispered, "we can talk about that in the morning."

She shifted closer, pressing along his side.

"For now… we talk about us."

A small smile tugged at Victor's lips.

"Hm? Us?"

Violet giggled—quiet, playful, the kind of sound she only made when she was entirely at ease with him.

"Yes, us," she insisted. "You've been thinking too much. Overworking your pretty head. So I'm reclaiming you."

Before he could comment, Victor slipped an arm around her waist—smooth and instinctive—and pulled her forward, easing her onto his lap.

Her breath hitched.

A soft, startled laugh escaped her as she ended up straddling him.

"Victor—"

Her voice cracked into a flustered smile. "You could warn me."

"I like the surprise better," he murmured.

Her hands landed on his shoulders for balance, fingers curling slightly as the closeness settled between them. The warmth of her thighs against his sides sent a faint spark crawling up his spine.

"Bold," she teased.

"Always," he replied.

She leaned in closer, letting her body relax fully into him. The moment her weight settled on his lap, something in Victor stirred—steady heat, quiet and unmistakable.

"You're staring," Violet whispered.

"You're beautiful," he answered without hesitation.

Her cheeks warmed. She lowered her gaze for a moment, but the shy curve at her lips carried more affection than embarrassment.

"You can't just say things like that so casually."

"I can," he said softly, guiding one hand along her back, "because they're true."

Violet let out a breath that trembled just a little—she hated how easily he could make her melt, but she loved it just as much.

"Then I'll say something too," she murmured, leaning in until her lips brushed the corner of his jaw.

"I missed you today."

Her voice dipped, warm and quiet.

"I always do."

Victor's hand slid up her spine, feeling every slow inhale she took.

"And you think I don't?" he murmured back.

Her eyes lifted to his.

Something gentle flickered inside them.

Then—

She cupped his face with both hands. Her thumbs brushed across his skin, slow, careful, intimate in that soft Violet way she rarely showed anyone.

"Victor…"

Her voice thinned with emotion.

"You're my peace."

The words hit him harder than he expected.

Like something clicking into place inside his chest.

He didn't answer right away.

He didn't need to.

Instead—he kissed her.

Slowly at first.

Warm, lingering pressure.

The faint brush of her lips settling into his.

Violet returned it instantly, almost too eagerly, as if she had been waiting for it all night. Her breath fluttered against his mouth, and her hands slipped from his cheeks to the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper.

Her lips parted.

The kiss deepened.

Soft at first, then warmer, hungrier.

Violet shifted on his lap, thighs tightening instinctively around him, her body pressing more fully into his.

A quiet sound escaped her—half-breath, half-whisper—and she didn't hide it.

She didn't want to.

Victor's hands slid lower along her back, guiding her closer, holding her as if she might disappear if he let go.

She broke the kiss only for a moment, her forehead resting against his, breaths trembling in the small space between them.

"Victor…"

Her voice was sweet and breathless.

"Don't stop."

He didn't.

Their mouths met again—deeper, slower, more deliberate. Every kiss felt like a conversation. Every touch carried a message neither of them said aloud.

Her fingers tangled in his hair.

His hands traced along her waist, lifting her slightly, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

The room faded.

The thoughts faded.

The world outside faded.

Only her warmth stayed.

Only his hands moved.

Only their breaths tangled in the quiet.

Violet's body leaned into him fully now—trusting, wanting, hers pressing into his as if trying to fuse with his heartbeat.