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“This is unfair.”
Morax looked up from his book at Azhdaha’s complaint, marking his place with a finger. “What’s unfair, my heart?” He drew the thick coat he was wearing closer around himself, snuggling into the warm furs to ward off the Snezhnayan chill.
The look his husband was giving him was equal parts exasperated and fond. “You know what. What am I meant to wear, now that you have stolen my coat?”
“You can channel Pyro,” Morax said dismissively, drawing his knees to his chest to better fit himself underneath the massive garment. It was not a difficult feat—when he stood, what was a knee-length coat on Azhdaha brushed Morax’s ankles. He’d had to fold back the sleeves thrice just to expose his hands enough to turn the pages of his book. “You can keep yourself warm.” He gave Azhdaha a look, arching an eyebrow. “You would have me freeze, then? You are aware of how badly I deal with the chill. Do you not care for me?”
“You—” Azhdaha cut himself off, clearly trying to fight back a smile. “Horrible. You are absolutely horrible, my sun. Of course I care for you. Clearly I have been spoiling you far too much, if you are pulling things like this.” He reached over to tap Morax’s legs, and Morax obligingly moved them to make room for him as he sat down next to him.
It wasn’t long before Morax had curled up against his side, scoffing at the idea that he of all people could be spoiled. “You cannot spoil me. I am a dragon, a warrior god, a protector—”
“Who has his own perfectly serviceable coat, and refuses to use it, instead resorting to thievery for absolutely no reason at all.”
“I think my reasons are perfectly good ones,” Morax returned primly, opening his book. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the familiar scents of Azhdaha’s signature osmanthus and honey perfume. “It is warm, comfortable, and services me far better than my own coat. Why would I not wear it, when it is available to me and you have left it behind?”
“Morax, I took it off to bathe.”
“There was no sign nor note forbidding me from taking it for myself. There has been no breach of any of our agreements.”
Azhdaha sighed, experimentally tugging on the coat’s lapel. Amusement colored his expression as Morax tugged back, refusing to give up a single inch of fabric. “ Beloved. You cannot wear this forever. You cannot go meet with Rime dressed in my coat. It does not suit you, your frame is far too small, and you are practically swimming in the fabric. What would the people say, when the Geo Archon met with the Cryo Archon in such an ill-fitting garment?”
“They would say nothing, for they are not entitled to the contents of a meeting between Archons,” Morax returned, narrowing his eyes. “Rime would understand, if I came to our meeting wrapped in the coat of my lover. Is she or is she not the god of love? A belt at the waist would prevent the garment from being so shapeless, if its lack of flattery concerns you. I could make it flatter me, Azhdaha, if I wished it to.”
The older dragon just stared at him for a few moments, before dragging a palm down his face. “...Morax, that is so far off the point I don’t even know where to begin with you.”
“Don’t begin at all,” he suggested. “Indulge me instead, as you always do.”
“And you wonder why I say I’ve spoiled you,” Azhdaha muttered good-naturedly, instead wrapping an arm around Morax’s waist to pull him closer. Morax went easily, closing his eyes as he rested his head against Azhdaha’s shoulder. “When you admit that I always indulge you.”
“Hush.” He cracked an eye open, a small, smug smile curling his lips. “You are aware that my alleged theft of your coat is partly for your sake as well, correct?”
Azhdaha blinked at him, brow furrowed. “...what?”
“Come, now. Does this not please you?”
“Does what not please me? This audacity of yours?”
Morax’s smile only widened. “The sight of me wrapped in your coat. Do I not look comfortable? Do I not look like I am yours, in this garment?” He laughed softly as he felt Azhdaha freeze against him. “This clearly does not fit me,” he said, tugging at the lapel. “If anyone were to see it, they’d know it to be yours. They would know that I belong to you, and only you. We are covetous creatures by nature, my heart. Deny it all you like, but I know that part of you enjoys this, the sight of myself openly flaunting your claim over me. There are many emotions that I do not understand, but this? This I know intimately, as I feel it every time I see you adorned with my sigil.” Morax reached up to tap the square-shaped brooch Azhdaha had pinned to the neck of his woolen shirt. “You wear it so well, and anyone who lays eyes on you knows exactly who you belong to. It pleases me, and the part of myself ruled by my instincts revels in the knowledge that you love me enough to continue to allow me to call you mine. I only wished to return the favor.”
One look at Azhdaha’s flushed face, his flustered expression, and Morax knew he had won. But…
…there was no harm in a little something extra, was there?
He turned his attention back to the coat’s thick fur lining, deliberately nuzzling his cheek against it. A pleased rumble escaped his throat as Azhdaha’s sweet, earthy scent flooded his nose. It was always so comforting, so familiar, and he had long associated it with safety and home. “Your coat smells like you, my heart. I wonder if some of it has rubbed off on me, after I’ve been wearing it for so long. Will I carry your scent on my body, once I remove it?” Morax sighed, toying with the top button for a moment before undoing it. The slight increase in chill made him shiver, but he pressed on, moving to the next. “But if you insist I take it off…”
Before he could remove the next button, Azhdaha’s large, warm hand had covered his. He couldn’t help but laugh a little internally—his poor partner was absolutely red.
“Keep it on,” Azhdaha rushed out, looking everywhere but his face. “It—” He snuck a glance at him, eyes trailing from the buttons along the front of the coat up the column of Morax’s neck to the fur collar nearly swallowing him up and made a horribly flustered sound, hiding his face. “It’s fine. I do not mind, if you like it so much.”
Morax laughed, tugging his husband’s hand away from his face. “Look at me, Azhdaha. I want your eyes on me, my heart, and nowhere else. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do something like this?” He shook his head fondly, lips twisting into a little grin. “I do not wear your sigil often, as I cannot openly display the claim you hold over me as much as I’d like due to my position as Archon. I wanted to give you a taste of the joy you bring me every time you walk outside with my sigil pinned to your lapel. Did you know, the clothes you wear at home are impossible to work with? My shoulders fit within their neckline, Azhdaha, and your garments slip right off. Belts do not help. I have tried far too many times when you were not home, with little success. But this? This is something I could work with, and so I took the opportunity.” He pressed a kiss to Azhdaha’s fingers, before letting go and looping his arms around Azhdaha’s neck to tug him lower. “So tell me, beloved. Does this please you?”
It seemed to take Azhdaha a few moments to find his words, so Morax waited, the grin never leaving his lips.
“Yes,” Azhdaha admitted at last, closing the rest of the distance to press their foreheads together. “It does. I would love nothing more than to hold you close and take in every inch of this gift you’ve given me, my sun.” He sighed, and Morax could feel his breath ghost over his lips. “I would engrave it in my memories forever, until erosion claims me and I crumble to nothing but dust.” Azhdaha’s hands settled at Morax’s waist, squeezing gently. “If, of course, you allow me to.”
“Ridiculous creature,” Morax murmured fondly, brushing a kiss against Azhdaha’s jaw. “I told you I wanted your eyes on me. Keep them there, or I will be very cross with you.”
That just made him laugh. “Alright,” he said, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can do that.”
“Good. We have all the time in the world, my heart. Don’t rush.”