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Inky blackness fills the space beyond your eyes when they slide open. You're drifting to awareness from an empty sleep, no Sight or dreams. None of the liminal pine or smatterings of familiar static. The weight of your body grounds you in a way you don't feel often, those rare moments when comfort and rest intertwine to give your vessel a sense of calm. The night air is light and cool when it brushes your skin and you blink. So lost you were in the haze of slumber that you miss a beat before noticing the foreign landscape of the room. Lamplight dusts you in a barely-there glow as you sit up in the bed. A duvet that certainly isn't yours pools around your hips and you huff to blow stray loops of hair from your eyes. The gentle chill of the room eagerly wraps around your now unguarded waist. You suppress a shiver.
The faint draw of light to your eye reveals tiny stars stamped onto the ceiling in careful distance, glittery and pale in the night. Memories piece together as your gaze crawls down to squint at dozens of trinkets that decorate little shelves and nooks– unadjusted eyes only able to pick up vague-ish silhouettes. Hazy, but growing clear, you know who's room you must be in. The 'how' is what you fail to remember. The glint of something sharp against the wall draws your eye–
You would be screaming at the sudden grip curling around your hip if it weren't for the hand that carefully seals itself over your parted lips. Simmering spiked cider and smoke invade your senses. Your chest thumps from the fright, eyes wide as you search in the dark for their owner– only to realize the light you basked in wasn't at all from a lamp.
“Guess who?” A baritone rumble fills the quiet.
The hand over your mouth wraps around your head easily, pointed claws gently tangling in your hair in a soft press to your scalp. Catching your breath you meet the eye of your captor, eyes tracing the arm snaked around your waist up to optics that dilate when you catch in their golden radiance. Laying lithe like a tiger beside you is Sombra, a mischievous proud look on his face as he regards you. You swallow grenadine sweetness.
The eclipse’s hand on you shifts, the taste of sugary dessert wine and fruit concentrate on your tongue trailing with it. The press of his thumb to your lower lip makes your shaky breath catch in a stutter. The flat pad of his sangria digit teases the soft skin, giving it a smooth roll. Blood rushes in beneath his press before its movement follows the rest of his hand to cup your cheek. You taste rich cigar earthy and sweet; the pounding of music you can't hear falls in time with your heart. "Good morning, Querido," he gives your hip a squeeze, "Awake so soon? I would have thought with how exhausted minha coisinha was that you would be out until the sun passed its rise." He sings to you in deep saccharine.
You steel yourself with a deep breath, heat pressed into your skin like an iron to cloth, "Have you been, uh, watching me sleep this whole time?"
Beside you on the bed the mercenary laughs something warm, amused but not teasing. You taste his endearment in a swish of spiked tea, "Well of course, Gatinho. What kind of caretaker would I be if I left you all alone, passed out like that?" The arm that ensnares you slips back around and up to take hold of your other cheek, thumbs tracing the bags under your eyes mindfully. "Surely you must know by now that little workshop isn't a suitable place to sleep."
Ignoring the tightness building in your chest, you watch Sombra shift on the bed like a large feline– so confident in its ability to strike that it simply lazes in the sun, stalking prey with lazed interest. Optics glimmer with cat-like anticipation. “Ah,” you stumbled through your words with a scintilla of doubt, “I’ve slept in worse spots, I would’ve been fine there. Wouldn’t be the first time at least–” you pause, persistent warmth creeping up your neck, “Not that I’m ungrateful! Thank you, really.”
A shiver shakes a hitch in your shoulders when tactile claws graze along your neck in careful strokes. The edges of his smile stretch to a smirk. Low blue light feathers along the plating of his face from secondary rays that fan out in pointed pink tips. The glow rims him in a mystical light in the dark, eyelights and smile casting you in a pale warm hue.
The synth’s smile softens. “Did you know? Eu te amo.” He mumbles, voice low and smooth like the trace of scotch and fire that sink straight to your gut. The words roll through you like a puff of smoke. A chord in your heart plays a single beat that reverberates through your core. Your eyes flicker between his, a wave of confusion crashes into startled recognition. Lips part to form words, but the synth hushes you with a digit against your lips– teasing the flesh there once again. He takes you in, eyes unbearably soft despite their predatory sharpness. You feel the methodical tapping of hooked fingers in your hair. A soft click accompanies the tilt of his faceplate, a gravely hum entirely too human escaping from his chassis. He's practically eating you with his eyes, savoring the way you stare up at him– the warmth of your life in his palms where he cradles and caresses you.
"When I say I love you, it means all of me loves you, Estrelinha," he croons, lifting your chin between claws that gradient, "Let me show you~."
He guides you toward him, palms that swallow you up tugging you gently forward. You follow, easily falling into his hands– your arms brace against the inky cotton jersey sheets in fists to hold your weight as you’re pulled into his orbit. You have to twist in order to meet him, drawn closer and closer until your face is left a hair apart from his. “Meu amor.” the synth praises, pressing into you like a flower into the ice mold. The kiss is tender and blooms on your lips like hot cider and melted chocolate– setting alight your chest like sparks from a wire, like popping candy licked off the rim of a tall glass and sparklers in the summer. You sigh, sinking into the warmth of his demonstrations. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping between your parted lips. Greedily, he eats up the pitiful sound that escapes you. Time melts away as you’re lost to the motion of the mercenary.
When he pulls away you have to fight down the needy drawl bubbling in your throat, chest heaving. Sombra holds you in the moment, tracing your features with a wandering gaze. Watching the rise and fall of the shirt that sticks to your skin, your breath as it leaves you; the flutter of your lidded eyes and the unmarked expanse above your collarbone. Eyelights brighten and he wraps around you. One arm creeps to re-work itself around your waist, the other slips along the flat of your stomach– claws leaving ghostly impressions through the fabric of your tank– hooking gently around the small of your hip. Easily, he moves you.
He lays you down flush against him, cradling you with one arm beneath your neck while the other finds constellations to trace in your skin. The mercenary hovers over you, delivering another kiss as you settle. You're cast in an aura of blue and gold beneath him. Teeth flash in a hungry smile as he twists his torso to gently cover yours. Precise talons come to brush a single strand of hair from your eyes, faceplate coming to close the space between.
“Let me take care of you, Estrelinha.”