(spicy short story/DC+Mercúrio) Three Weeks; A Heartbeat

Heeello, everyone!

I'm so sorry for the delay to post this one—but it was one of the hardest short stories I've ever written. Still, with 5.4k words, I had a lot of fun with it.

Fun fact: Mercúrio is actually the first character I ever created for a book, back when I was 14 (!!!). They've lived several different lives and existed in many iterations of my universes, but the one in the LtGBtK series is definitely my favorite version of him.

That also means that they're so solidified in my mind, that it was difficult to imagine a scenario where they managed to develop any kind of interest in DC other than platonic. My solution to that was to think long and hard about what exactly Mercúrio is searching for, how they usually operate, how DC challenges them...

And by doing that, I found the truth that I've known existed all along: DC and Mercúrio's route would be my absolute favorite in the game... but I don't think I could write a slowburn THIS slow. 🤣🤣🤣

Sooo, what you'll see in this here short story is the "Apogee" (wink wink), the clímax of all that—the moment that starts everything for real.

Since it's a (not so) quick peek into the future, I did my absolute best not to give any spoilers, but if you're as perceptive as I know you all are, I'm sure you'll see some teasing sneak peeks of what's coming in the very first chapters of Ward the Dragon, Love the King. ;)))

I hope you'll enjoy the read!

Still this week I'll post the poll for our October short story, plus a nice devlog with my plans for the month. See you all soon!

Big hugs,

Ligia

Three Weeks; A Heartbeat

9:XX, somewhere in the Mapiguari Forest, near the Amonite-Aventurianese border.

IN A POSSIBLE FUTURE, XX YEARS AFTER THE ENDING OF THE GAME.

You peek over your shoulder at the faint, foliage-cut light in the distance and resent how cold these woods are during the night. The rest of the group will protect the documents and tend to the campfire while you're gone, so you finally—for the first time in the past five hours—relax enough to allow your face to crumple in pain.

There were several reasons why you couldn't do this before. One, it's the first mission of some of your people, so you can't allow a blow to their morale. Two, there are still three weeks of travel ahead, and any delay could easily turn that into a month.

Three, Lord Mercúrio is back. Finally. And, well. You don't want them to see you like this. Weakened. Hurt.

Because of a mistake, of all things.

You don't want them to think you're the same person you were when he left.

The thought makes your stomach sink. You've worked hard to be seen as an equal, to be thought of as an ally. To be considered a peer.

But you became so much more than that.

The changes were slow at first, then intense and all-consuming. Not like a flood at the beginning of spring, but like the avalanche that starts with a single snowflake. And when the time arrived to share their secrets and confess their fears, Mercúrio chose your bed to visit and your shoulder to ask for.

Nothing physical happened then, but it could have, and that thought has been consuming your mind and heart ever since. The moments you shared, the adventures you had, the victories you fought for, together… and then that almost kiss at the end of it all, when they caressed your chin, lips to your ear, and breathed out a goodbye.

"We'll see each other again."

Which is exactly why this whole situation is so confusing. After saying and doing all that, Mercúrio spent four months away. They sent you three letters, two gifts through Lady Melike, but in all that time, you didn’t see him once.

Mercúrio was right, though—your reunion did happen, even if their reaction to your presence couldn't have been any colder. A polite greeting, a soulless smile, and something in their eyes that you could almost classify as “regret.” You sigh and push the thought to the back of your mind.

What could you expect, though, given who they really are? You know how hard it is; how your entire life, to them, is nothing but a heartbeat.

You see the last of your knights slipping into their tents to sleep (Mercúrio disappeared as soon as you started to set up camp), so you know the time will have to be now. With a grunt and a grimace, you stand and walk to the edge of the water, some good distance away from your camp. Calves all but entirely submerged in the thermal lake’s hot water, you sit at the edge of the pier and let out a pained breath.

It’s time to tend to the wound you've been hiding the whole afternoon.

There aren’t many people in this Kingdom who could outskill you in a fight, but that old friend of yours, capricious as she is, half-dead or not, is steadily becoming one of them.

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and furrow your eyebrows. Unclasp your belts, take off your armor, untie the strings in your pants, slip your ripped shirt off. The cold breeze spreads goosebumps on your skin, and you shiver.

Before looking at the wound, you touch it with both hands, following the ugly bruises that connect the left side of your chest to the upper side of your thigh. The deeper purple marks show the place where the chain links hit you, but there are very small lacerations and redness from those damned little spikes in the metal. Two, maybe two and a half centimeters to the left, and the hit would've been dangerous. As it is, though, it's more uncomfortable than anything else—a result of accepting to fight without your armor. Her goading, the dullness of the trip, and a certain Master Arcanos made you think that that was a good idea at the time.

Well, it wasn’t.

One of your fingers touches a still sore area, and the pain is enough to make you bite down on your lower lip, locking a grunt in your throat. At least it doesn’t feel like it’s broken.

"Goddess." With a sigh, you breathe in and out until the pain goes away. This would be much easier if you could actually look at the whole thing, but the purpling wound wraps beyond your side and burns in a blind spot at your back. "Cursed rat," you whisper.

You sigh and look to the south, toward the direction D. and the others are waiting, thousands of kilometers away. The sigh that follows comes from remembering that you promised them you'd be careful.

You weren't.

"Shit, the siblings will…." You trail off. Instead of missing home, you must focus on your mission. With a determined nod, you find the wooden box at your side and separate the poultices you'll use. The faster you and your Lord reach Aventurina, the faster you can go back. "And once I'm back," you whisper and cup a handful of lake water to clean your wounds, "I'll sleep in a comfortable bed, take a warm bath, and f—"

"Find that you need better armor, or maybe a more skilled training partner," someone supplies.

The voice makes your shoulders jump, and you spin around so quickly, your hand bats half of the vials into the water.

"Shit!" You can only watch as the vials sink, lost in the inky darkness of the lake. "What in the ashes, Mercúrio! Why do you keep doing that? We’ve known each other for more than 30 years now; you can’t still think that’s funny."

Despite your glare, Lord Mercúrio chuckles and approaches. “Oh, but I do,” they say.

And as much as you try to stop it, your expression softens, and something in your chest tightens.

He stands taller, prouder, sharper than ever before, not a shadow of the vulnerability that only you saw that night, years ago. You've been traveling together for a week now, and the change still gives you shivers. You spent, what? Four months without seeing them? And yet, even if they don't look a day older, something changed in them.

Something that ripples within you, reaching that thread of connection you rediscovered not so long ago.

He sits beside you, and their sigh is followed by a low hum that makes the goosebumps on your arms multiply.

"I knew you were hiding something," Lord Mercúrio whispers—but you notice that they keep their gaze respectfully away from your half-naked body; their Adam's apple bobs up and down when they swallow.

No matter—if they're not looking at you, it means you can finally study them. And it's power, you realize. Lord Mercúrio is thrumming with a different type of power. Not something arcane, not something mystical, but strong all the same.

"You can cover yourself any time now," Lord Mercúrio says with a teasing smile.

Cheeks heating up, you tug at your discarded shirt, but the slash in the linen leaves you struggling with its strings. Mercúrio chuckles.

"Your tolerance to pain is truly incredible; that looks terrible." Mercúrio unfastens their cape. He tosses it over your shoulders and tugs you closer so they can fasten it. It's still warm, and that warmth spreads over your back, threatening to climb up your neck and reach your cheeks. You turn away. Lord Mercúrio continues, "But should you really be this careless? You're still needed, you know that." He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment.

"I can't help it. Now that the kingdom is safe and we're not in mortal danger anymore, I need something to fill that void," you mumble. They laugh.

Once you’re properly covered, Lord Mercúrio leans down to take off his boots; their jacket, vest, and shirt soon follow.

You tug the cape closer. "What are you doing?"

They lift an eyebrow and gesture at the lake, then at the remaining half of your vials. "Saving you, of course."

Now that the cape is tight around you, they study you as well, chest rising in a deep breath that has both of you in a weird type of suspension—like a time-slowing spell or a long fall into a river.

You frown and open your mouth to answer, but before you can, Lord Mercúrio jumps into the water.

And when their shadow disappears, you huff and lean back.

The reflection of the moon on the water has barely moved when they emerge and swim forward, three glass vials clinking between their fingers. When the sound of the water quietens, it's replaced by Mercúrio's low chuckle, which in turn becomes a laugh.

"What's so funny?" you ask, more than a little bitterness in your voice.

"Ah." They take a deep breath and approach with a final arm stroke. "You, of course. What else?"

You frown—just a little—and lean forward, your mouth filled with anger and ready for an argument, but you stop mid-movement and hiss. The pain reminds you of what you're doing here in the first place.

"Shit." And in a lower voice, "You must find tragedies really funny, huh."

Lord Mercúrio chuckles again. You look down to check your wound, and a hand, then an arm, crosses your sight. You look up to find your Lord's arms resting on your thighs. It’s so close and so sudden, your heart skips a beat. The warm water and the cold breeze make their skin feel a lot hotter against yours.

"Here." Elbow on one of your knees, they offer you the vials. Your fingers brush his as you take them, and the knot in your stomach grows tighter.

You study each other. You, with your new scars, harder heart, sharper eyes. He, with that widening smile, the same warm gaze, and a new necklace glimmering under the moonlight.

Lord Mercúrio's expression doesn't change as he moves away, gaze still on you. They swim to your left and rest their arms on the rough old wood of the pier. Watching. You uncork the first vial, still wet, and try to reach the top of your wound, somewhere at your back. The cape, the pain, and the location of the wound make your task almost impossible.

The water complains when Lord Mercúrio hoists themself out of the lake to sit at your side (you would too). Without a word, they take the vial, lift your arm, and push you gently to your right. You grimace, biting on your lower lip to stop another hiss.

"I’ll have to lift the cape; will you allow me?" Mercúrio says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking. Considering. It's a simple request, but there are many ways to fulfill it—and one of them, more than the others, might help you understand part of this new, odd dynamic between the two of you.

So, with a hard swallow, you lock eyes with Mercúrio. And with a roll of your shoulders, you let the cape slide down your skin, revealing everything they tried to cover earlier.

You've seen many sides of Mercúrio over the years, and during your last mission together, you learned part of what makes them the person they are. Loyal to a fault, with a sense of responsibility that eclipses your own, a sense of humor that can make a sailor blush, and an unhealthy obsession with little tests. They push to see how far one can go, how much it would cost for someone to give their secrets away, and how long would it take for you to forget someone.

Is he still the same, you wonder. Is this a test? Did you pass?

And thus the cape, a patient, silent offer of naked truth. You didn’t forget them. You still want to give this a try.

Besides, seeing his heavy eyelids and parted mouth—teeth gently running over their lower lip—feels good too. You like the effect you have on them.

But then they avert their eyes and blink as if trying to break a spell.

And there. It happened again.

That's what he's been doing over the past years. Stopping himself whenever they show any type of reaction to you; distancing themself whenever you try to reach him. You can see you have an effect on him; you can see that they still think of you. Why are they hesitating?

You ball your hands, thumbs touching your naked thighs. Your voice sounds more hurt than you expected when you say, "Shouldn't you be helping me?" You point at the ugly bruises on your side, but maybe there’s something underneath them that needs healing.

Truth is? These feelings have been nothing but an inconvenience to you for almost a decade, and every time you meet, that only gets clearer.

It was fun to play with the dynamic between you. Mercúrio was always this mysterious, fox-like Master Arcano, surrounded by the allure of power, secrets, and plans that stretch over decades. He was your rock, Mathias’s rock—and the air in the lungs of an entire Kingdom. He was part of a fantasy you can’t deny, a graceful, hungry, intelligent person who could hold the entire world in the very palm of their hand.

And to imagine them on their knees for you (and the opposite) is—was….

A shiver gives you pause, and you close your eyes, half frustrated, half thirsty. For a moment there, you even thought you might share something beyond physical attraction, but now, it’s… hard to tell. They glance at you and take a deep breath. His fingers meet the golden pendant in his necklace, and they nod with a cold, fake smile that makes your blood boil.

“That works too,” Mercúrio says, reaching for the first vial. “Now stay still.”

That's it.

Cheeks flushed, you stand and try to step away. The movement isn’t sudden or harsh or all that angry, but it is a little hurt. But there's pain, and your feet tangle on the cape. Your knees buckle, your eyes widen, and Mercúrio reaches a hand to steady you, but not fast enough. His arm wraps around your chest, his other hand grips your arm, and both of your bodies tilt dangerously to the side.

You two hit the water with a sharp gasp, a big splash, and a tangle of limbs.

It's warmer in the lake than out in the breeze, but it gets even warmer when the dark waters of Lake Apogee light up. Mercúrio's magic tightens around you, hoists you up, and as it spreads, its tendrils reach for your wound.

Eyes widening, you kick toward the surface, swimming until you can breathe again. Mercúrio soon follows, eyebrows furrowed. You didn't notice before, but from up close, with the moonlight hitting them in full, you find pinkish scars on their chest, a result of the mercenary attack in Opala during Mathias’s Blooming.

"Stop it," you say, water running down your cheeks. With every movement of your legs and arms, pain ripples down your entire body. "That's why I kept this wound a secret, Mercúrio. Stop using your magic on me—I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time."

Not completely true, of course.

They blink, but it’s hard to ignore the flash of hurt on their expression. Mercúrio smiles; you can almost feel the coldness behind it. The feeling of their magic eases off, and what remains is only enough to take the strain off your wounded side.

“Or what?” they challenge. “It’s not like you can run away from me like you used to. Not with a wound like this.”

It’s a light comment, maybe intended as a joke, but it touches a part of you that injects venom in your next words.

“I’m mature enough that I don’t need to run anymore. I’ll leave that to you, since you’re so good at it.”

The hurt again, this time more intense, but they’re quick to school their expression. There’s a beat of silence between you,  the warm water covered by a thin layer of fog.

Mercúrio sighs; they don’t try to smile this time. “I didn’t run away from you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

You expected a cutting answer, not this. Mercúrio swims toward the pier, and you follow.

“I was implying that, yes. I don’t know how else I can make sense of what happened, My Lord.”

They chuckle. Why is it that they always seem so thoroughly entertained by anything you do?

“I was hoping you could see those four months as a little self-discovery trip.” They say it like it’s nothing. Like it was a weekend on Ercília Shore. Maybe it was, for someone as old as they are.

You scoff while they grip the edge of the pier and turn to look at you.

“Do you want to add anything else?” they say.

“Four months might not be anything for you, Mercúrio, but it is to me.” You swim past them and get ready to hoist yourself up. “It makes me think that you could be gone for four years if the Seat hadn’t asked for your help specifically.”

“You.” Their voice cracks. He clears his throat. “You’re saying you missed me.” Not a question; a statement, said in a low voice and in a state of almost-bewilderment that is too clear to ignore.

Of course you did. “Please. As if I’d feed your ego even more.”

They laugh at that, surprised, delighted, a glint of mischief in their eyes. You flex your muscles and try to climb up to the pier, but the bruised muscles in your abdomen aren’t strong enough for that, not in their current state, and you plunge into the water again.

“Shit.” You look around, sputtering water. There must be an easier way to get out of this lake. Maybe you can swim to the shore or—

“I was scared.”

That gives you pause. You start to turn around, but before you can, there’s a warm presence at your back. A shiver climbs up your spine as the warmth moves closer.

“What.”

“Let me touch you,” they whisper.

Another shiver. “Lord Mercúrio.”

They reach around you to place a hand on one of the wooden columns. “I want to heal you. Dragon Commander, please.”

You turn around slowly to find them closer than you expected. Serious, their gaze is heavy when it meets yours. You consider mentioning the sudden formality with your title, but the words get stuck in your throat when Mercúrio leans in.

“Will you let me?”

It’s a repeat of what happened before, you realize, shortly after you met D. Except that this time, Mercúrio knows exactly what can happen to you. Maybe that’s what they want.

You blink a few times and clear your throat. “I brought my kit. There’s no need.”

They smile. “I’m a better healer than any mediocre healing poultice. Don’t tell Mathias I said that; he’ll be crushed.”

You shake your head, and the smile disappears from your lips. “No magic. Just help me up, please.”

Mercúrio sighs, gives you space, and makes a gesture at the wooden column behind you. An invisible force punches a series of dents into the wood, and you slowly, painfully, climb it like a ladder. Mercúrio follows after you, eyes lost in the distance. They take their cape, drop it around your shoulders once more, and for a moment, you think they’ll walk away.

He doesn’t. He sits at your side.

“A little help?” you whisper.

You offer them the vial, which they take with a sigh and pivot to face you.

Tonight is a crescent moon, but something in this lake seems to shine, pouring a silvery light on Mercúrio’s brown skin; it catches in the hair on his chest, in the tight curls of his wet hair, and in the soft curl of his full lips.

“You know how to apply it?”

They answer by uncorking the vial and arching an eyebrow. With a smile, you let one of the sides of the cape fall down your shoulder—it’s now too cold for anything more than that—and lift an arm to give them better access to your wound. He slides forward and pours the contents of the first vial over your skin; the small cuts burn, and you hiss.

First step finished; it’s time for the second, a thick poultice Mercúrio is already spreading on their palms.

“Will you tell me what you did these past four months? Or did you just spend the entire time sulking in a—” you gasp when the coldness of the healing poultice touches your skin.

Mercúrio spreads it, his warm skin heating it up. The feeling of their hands on you makes your eyelids weigh over your eyes. If he notices the goosebumps on your arms, they don’t say anything.

“I spent a couple of weeks in Hematita,” they start with a low voice, only slightly hoarse. “Then traveled back to the Topazian coast by ship. Met one or two sages on the way, traded spells, found a potential new disciple, learned the Paulinan Waltz.”

“The Waltz, huh.”

“I hear there’s a wedding approaching. Might as well dance when I can.”

You try not to think of it. “Yeah.”

Your arm is starting to grow tired, but before you can think of what to do with it, Mercúrio gently brings a leg up and rests your arm on his knee. They get more of the poultice, and after a heartbeat, their hands are on you again.

“Was that all you did?”

“I also bought this.”

When your eyes meet, they glance downward.

“The necklace?”

“Mhm. Do you like it?”

You look at it. A delicate, small, but exquisite thing that shows incredible craftsmanship and feels oddly familiar. The perfectly round amber in the middle is polished, surrounded by delicate, thread-like gold filaments that shape the leaves around it.

“A physalis? That’s…” you breathe out an impressed breath, eyes widened, eyebrows halfway to your hairline. “That’s incredible.”

He nods and locks eyes with you. Their next words come with an added weight. “Took me a long time to find the right one.”

You can’t stop a laugh. “You spent four months choosing a necklace, Mercúrio?”

“I spent four months wondering if I should gift it, yes.” His answer comes without hesitation, voice low and soft.

Your smile relaxes into an expression of confusion that makes Mercúrio wink. You furrow your eyebrows to ask, “And did it help you with your fear? Either the necklace or the indecision?” He doesn’t answer, his eyes searching yours, so you add, “You seemed surprised that I missed you. Then you said you were scared. Now you’re telling me your trip was almost a quest to find a pretty piece of jewelry—and that you don’t really know what to do with it.”

Mercúrio opens and closes their mouth, and his hands still. He looks out into the lake, licks their lips, and clicks their tongue. And finally,

"It helped me make my decision, yes.” He reaches your hipbones, and one of his thumbs slips underneath your undergarment. You try to hide your sharp breath intake, but Mercúrio seems distracted enough to ignore it. They continue, “I needed a moment to think.” His hands go back to spreading the poultice. To touching you. “I needed to process. To understand." They sigh. "My relationship with this magic. My feelings towards it. And.” They take a deep breath and lean closer. “My… desire.”

You blink and turn to study their eyes. He’s backed away, posture straight and confident, a small smirk in the corner of their lips. You try to answer, but don’t find any words. It takes you a moment to realize why.

They’re not running away.

“Should I continue?” they whisper.

Lord Mercúrio is beside you, and you feel that, depending on your next answer, they might stay the whole night. You swallow. The silence between you is filled by distant birdsong. The moon kiskadee is rare in Amonita, but is said to bring good omens, unlike its morning counterpart.

So you pivot around, take your feet out of the water, and place them beside Mercúrio. “Go ahead.”

Their smirk intensifies. Mercúrio lifts your knees and pushes the edges of your undergarment up, hands spread on your thighs. “Do you want to know what my decision was?”

“Y-yes.”

Their hands are on you; the poultice is now as warm as the Arcano’s palms. “I like to be entertained.”

“That was your decision?”

They laugh. “No; pay attention.”

“Yes, Master,” you whisper.

The corner of their eyes wrinkles with a wide, satisfied smile. They lick their lips to continue, “I’ve been alive for a long time, and a person such as I must have something to keep their mind healthy.” Their smile disappears. “But it’s the same for people who live less than I do. We all need good stories or simple fun to help us through life.”

“That is true.”

“But—to me—entertainment is short-lived, and it’s meaningless when it’s not based on feeling. It is limited in its complexity and lacking in its possibilities.” They sigh. “And I feared… well, I didn’t want to assume of course. I tried to give you space, and I thought that through it, I'd be able to tell.”

You frown. “To tell what?”

They clean their hands on the water, clear their throat, and reach for the necklace. “I bought this for its meaning. You know the meaning of the physalis, I believe?” When you shake your head, Mercúrio continues, “I chose it as a symbol for someone’s reign, a long time ago. It’s a symbol of faith, devotion, and a desire to protect.” They lick their lips and offer you the necklace. “But now I want it to be a symbol of my affection for you. That is my decision.”

“I….” You blink, looking from the necklace to the Arcanos.

“Because you missed me,” he whispers. “Because I mean something for you. You see, there’s one type of entertainment that only interests me when there’s a deeper bond behind it, and I needed those four months to wonder if that’s what you—what I felt, or… and when I came back, I didn’t know, hum. So I… do you understand?”

“No.” You shake your head, lips widening into a grin. “Goddess. Wait, it can’t be.” It hits you all at once, and you gasp, barely holding back your laughter. “You thought I just wanted to have sex with you!”

Mercúrio looks to the side, the color in his cheeks growing just a bit darker. “Well. It’s a way to put it. In which case, I don’t think I would have wanted it. It’s how I’m built; I can’t help it—I need the meaning behind it. Thus, the necklace.”

“So you traveled the continent for four months in search of a necklace instead of talking to me?” You can’t help now, you’re giggling. “And then you came back and did this elaborate speech—what for? To ask if I like you?”

“I—”

“And here I thought I was just… a small node in the tree trunk.”

First, they look at you in utter confusion. Then, they let out a sigh and pinch the bridge of their nose. “I thought so too, but I was greatly mistaken.” Their voice is low when they add, “I wouldn’t want to spend another day away.”

You chuckle, heart warming up. “Look at you. You’re really awful at this, aren’t you, Master?”

“My expertise is to save kingdoms and protect mythical figures, I would say.” A frustrated huff. “I’m just—used to doing things alone.”

There’s still disbelief in your smile. “Why, I hope we can change that.” Your smile grows a little hotter, and as you lock eyes with them, you move your knees apart, placing one of your feet on Mercúrio’s other side. “Now we can do things together. Entertain each other, perhaps.” You call them closer with a gesture, a single finger curling toward you. They obey, placing their hands on the floor around your hips. When they’re close enough, you whisper, “As long as you stop scaring me.”

They take a shaky breath in and smile. Powerful, intelligent, charming, and still—nothing but a shy person, kneeling between your legs. You shake your head, lips pulled wide in a grin.

If someone told you this is the turn your night would take, you wouldn’t believe them. And yet, here you are.

They press their knees on your inner thighs and lean forward, making your heart race. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not asking anything,” they whisper. “And I won’t hope to be your only company.” Mercúrio lifts the necklace, and when you nod, still smiling, he clasps it around your neck. “All I want is meaningful entertainment with someone I’m very fond of. With someone who’s also very fond of me.”

“That’s what I am, I hope.”

They touch the necklace, then the soft skin under your chin. “It most certainly is, yes.”

You chuckle. “Then I hope you know what you’re doing. I want to make up for those four months you spent away.”

Mercúrio chuckles. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve had only a few partners, but a whole lot of experience.” And in a softer voice, expression growing soft, they add, “I want companionship. And I want you.” Their lips touch your ear. “Fuck these ointments. Let me heal you.”

You swallow, words lost in the knot tightening between your legs.

And then you nod.

Mercúrio’s smile is partially hidden by how close they are. They place their hands on your hips and tug in a silent invitation. You obey, grabbing their neck, sliding against their thighs, and hoisting yourself up onto their lap, arms wrapped around their shoulders. A fresh wave of arcane seeps into you; it’s warm, growing hotter across your skin. It touches every corner and crevice of your body in a way no other spell ever has.

Their fingers tighten under the curve of your legs, holding you tighter when you begin to melt against them.

"There. Don’t you feel better now?"

You do. The pain fades slowly, and as it goes away, Mercúrio’s hands tighten around you. You open your mouth to answer, but your head tilts backward. It’s intoxicating, making your chest heave. A warm wetness forms on your skin, tugging at your conscience and offering nothing but ecstasy.

"The Arcane feels different when I’m the one controlling it. That’s what you told me, wasn’t it?" Mercúrio kisses your jaw, lips sliding down your neck.

“Yes,” You whisper, jaw slacking, throat constricting around the sounds you try to stop. But it’s too much, and this time—unlike that one, years ago—they are free to touch you, to explore you, to search the hidden places that make you sigh and whimper under their hands. "Mercúrio," you whisper.

Finally, their lips meet yours, and their fingers curl just underneath your belly button. His short nails brush an alluring trail downward and into the only piece of fabric still covering your modesty.

Tendrils of healing magic find the rest of your wounds, licking, burning the pain away with a pressure that feels just right. A new wave of arcane feels you, more intense this time, parting your lips. You moan, and he slides even closer, your chest against his, the side of their face glued to yours.

"Again. Moan my name again."

"Mercúrio…"

One of their hands supports your neck, while the other finds the perfect spot between your legs. They lay you on the pier, their hardness just as clear as the wood from the floor beneath you.

And as you kiss and moan and explore one another, as their heartbeat sounds strong and loud against yours, you thank your Majesty, your Goddess, and the universe for this very moment.

Because yeah, these weeks—this life—will pass like a heartbeat… but Mercúrio’s heart and your heart will need and welcome every single one of them.