Work Text:
1.
The room was dimly lit, the only source of warmth coming from the figure beside Leona. Malleus always ran warmer than most—his natural heat seeping through the layers of their clothing, comforting in a way Leona would never admit. The cold stone walls made the night air bite sharper, but nestled against Malleus, Leona barely felt it.
Leona was half-asleep, sprawled lazily against Malleus' chest as the fae absentmindedly combed his fingers through his hair. The steady rise and fall of Malleus’ breathing, the rhythmic motions of his hand, and the natural heat radiating from him—it all lulled Leona into that fragile space between wakefulness and slumber.
And then, Malleus’ fingers strayed.
The cool brush of his fingertips skimmed the base of Leona’s ears, and an involuntary shiver crawled down Leona’s spine. His ears twitched, betraying him, and for one horrifying second, a deep rumbling nearly escaped his throat. He clenched his jaw just in time, forcing the sound back down where it belonged.
Malleus paused, clearly noticing. His voice, smooth and low, rumbled against Leona’s ear. “You shivered.”
Leona tensed, his body betraying him again. “Tch. It’s cold in here.”
Without thinking, he burrowed closer, pressing himself against the solid warmth of Malleus' chest. It was instinct more than anything—the way his body sought out heat when he felt chilled. But as soon as he realized what he had done, he scowled, ears flicking back in irritation.
Malleus chuckled, amused. “Oh? I don’t recall you ever complaining about the cold before.” His arms tightened around Leona just slightly, as if indulging him. “Or perhaps you simply enjoy my warmth?”
Leona’s tail twitched against the sheets. He could feel Malleus’ smirk without even looking. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, horn-head,” he grumbled, though he didn’t pull away.
Malleus hummed thoughtfully, resuming his gentle motions through Leona’s hair. “Your kind prefers warmth, don’t they?” His claws grazed lightly against the fur at the base of Leona’s ears again—deliberate this time. A test.
Leona’s breath hitched.
“Quit it,” he snapped, jerking his head away, but the damage was already done.
Malleus’ gaze darkened with understanding, his smirk shifting into something softer. He didn’t tease, didn’t press—just ran his fingers through Leona’s hair again, this time avoiding the sensitive spots.
“You’re quite honest when you’re half-asleep,” Malleus mused, voice low and fond.
Leona scowled, but he didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, soaking in the warmth, grumbling under his breath.
“Shut up.”
2.
The night was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the enchanted lanterns flickering overhead. Leona was stretched out on his bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion. He had no reason to entertain Malleus tonight—no energy for their usual back-and-forth—but the fae had shown up anyway, making himself comfortable beside him like he belonged there.
Leona should have told him to scram. Instead, he let him stay.
Malleus had a habit of touching things absentmindedly—his hands always seeking, tracing, learning. At first, he had simply rested his palm against Leona’s back, fingers idly smoothing over the fabric of his shirt. It was warm, comforting in a way Leona didn’t want to dwell on.
Then Malleus' hand drifted lower.
Leona barely noticed at first—too focused on sinking into the warmth pressing against his side. But then cool fingertips brushed against his tail, and his entire body tensed.
His tail flicked, an automatic reaction, but Malleus was faster. His fingers curled around the tufted tip, holding it loosely between his fingers.
Leona inhaled sharply.
Malleus hummed, tilting his head. “Oh? You reacted just now.”
Leona forced himself to relax, willing his tail to stay still. “You’re imagining things,” he muttered, voice rougher than usual.
Malleus didn’t let go. Instead, he twirled the tip of Leona’s tail between his fingers, testing the weight of it, the softness. He wasn’t pulling or being rough, just exploring—his touch feather-light, almost teasing.
Leona’s ears flattened against his head, his tail giving an involuntary twitch. His heartbeat picked up, and to his absolute horror, he could feel the telltale vibration threatening to rise in his chest.
He was not about to purr.
Malleus, of course, noticed the shift immediately. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something smoother, more deliberate. “Are lions particularly sensitive here?”
Leona scowled, snatching his tail back with more force than necessary. “Hands off, horn-head.”
Malleus chuckled, unbothered. “Ah, so they are sensitive.” He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting against Leona’s ear. “What would happen if I—”
Leona didn’t let him finish. He turned onto his side, facing away from Malleus, his tail curling protectively around his waist. “Touch it again, and you’ll lose that hand.”
Malleus didn’t touch it again. But the amused glint in his eyes—and the smug little hum vibrating in his chest—told Leona that this wasn’t over.
3.
Leona was bone-tired. Between the exhausting drills at Spelldrive practice, the never-ending demands of his dorm, and Ruggie’s constant nagging, all he wanted was to collapse into bed and sleep for a week. He wasn’t expecting company—especially not Malleus—but the fae had appeared in his doorway as if summoned, taking one look at him and deciding to stay.
Leona had half a mind to kick him out, but before he could, Malleus touched him.
The fae’s hands settled firmly on his shoulders, pressing into the tight knots of muscle without hesitation. Leona stiffened on instinct, his pride screaming at him to shove him off, but—damn it—Malleus' hands were good at this.
Warmth seeped into his aching muscles, his body unwinding against his will. He let out a slow breath, tilting his head forward as Malleus’ thumbs kneaded into the tension along his shoulder blades.
“You’re unusually quiet,” Malleus mused, voice smooth as ever. “Perhaps I should do this more often.”
Leona scowled but didn’t pull away. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”
Malleus hummed, dragging his fingers down the length of Leona’s back with calculated ease. “You should have asked for this sooner. I don’t mind indulging you.”
Leona scoffed. “Indulging me? What, you think I need this?”
Malleus leaned in slightly, his breath warm against the back of Leona’s neck. “Your body seems to think so.”
Leona hated how smug he sounded. He was about to fire back with something sharp when Malleus' fingers dug in just below his shoulder blades, and his brain short-circuited. His tail twitched violently behind him, and to his absolute horror, he barely swallowed down a sound that was way too close to a pleased growl.
Malleus paused.
Leona knew. He knew.
The silence stretched between them, thick and unbearable, before Malleus exhaled a soft, amused chuckle. “Ah. So that’s what it takes.”
Leona’s ears flattened instantly. “Shut the hell up.”
Malleus’ hands remained steady, his claws grazing lightly against the sensitive muscles at the base of Leona’s neck. “You’re trembling,” he noted, far too entertained. “Did I find a weak spot?”
Leona snapped his head up, scowling over his shoulder. “You didn’t find anything.”
Malleus smirked. “Mmm. If you say so.”
And then, as if to prove a point, he pressed his thumbs into the same spot again—slow, deliberate.
Leona sucked in a breath through his teeth, gripping the sheets beneath him. Bastard.
“I could do this all night,” Malleus murmured, voice dropping into something dangerously smooth. “You seem to enjoy it.”
Leona had enough. He twisted away from Malleus’ grasp, swatting his hands off before turning onto his side, facing away from him. “Yeah, well, you got cold hands. Kinda ruins it.”
The silence that followed was lethal.
“…Cold?” Malleus repeated, as if he had misheard.
Leona immediately regretted saying it.
The dragon fae was always warm. Heat radiated from him constantly, as if his body carried a flickering inner flame. Leona knew that. But now he was trapped in his own lie.
Malleus leaned in, and Leona could feel the smug grin stretching across his face.
“Leona,” Malleus said, far too delighted. “You and I both know that’s not true.”
Leona gritted his teeth. “Yeah? Well, I don’t like your hands on me anyway.”
Malleus laughed.
It was soft and infuriatingly fond, the kind of laugh that said, I know you’re lying, but I’ll let you pretend otherwise.
“…If you say so,” Malleus murmured, sitting back. But the way he was looking at Leona—knowing, pleased, entertained—made it clear that Leona had just handed him way too much leverage.
Leona buried his face into the pillow and cursed under his breath.
4.
Leona never put much thought into his hair beyond keeping it out of his face. It was thick, wild, and prone to tangling if he didn’t at least try to maintain it. But ever since Malleus had made a habit of touching it, Leona had become annoyingly aware of just how much he liked it.
The dragon fae had a way of playing with his hair that was too good—fingertips combing through the strands with slow, reverent strokes, as if memorizing the texture. Malleus never rushed, never tugged, just ran his claws along Leona’s scalp with an almost lulling rhythm. It was dangerously relaxing, and Leona hated how quickly his body betrayed him.
Tonight was no different.
They were stretched out in Leona’s room, the only source of light coming from the dimly glowing lantern near the bed. The silence between them was comfortable, save for the quiet sound of Malleus’ fingers threading through his hair.
Then, the fae’s claws caught onto something—a small, tight braid near the base of Leona’s skull.
Malleus hummed, tilting his head. “This is woven with purpose.” His voice was soft, curious. “Did you braid it yourself?”
Leona cracked an eye open, barely turning his head. The sleepy noise he let out was a muffled confirmation. “Mmhm.”
Malleus ran his fingers over the braid, studying the pattern. “There’s meaning behind it, isn’t there?”
Leona grunted, not really in the mood to explain. But Malleus wasn’t letting go.
The fae’s fingers traced over the woven strands again, his touch lingering. “…It suits you.”
Leona raised a brow, side-eyeing him. “What? A braid?”
Malleus chuckled, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “No. The tradition behind it. Whatever it signifies, I can tell it’s important to you.” His fingers drifted back to the loose strands, twirling them absently. “And I like the texture.”
Leona huffed, sinking deeper into the bed. “You’re real touchy, y’know that?”
Malleus made a soft noise of agreement. “I enjoy it. Your hair is… fascinating.” He lowered his head slightly, inhaling the scent that clung to the strands—rich, warm, a bit spicy but sweet at the same time. Something unmistakably Leona.
He exhaled, his breath grazing the shell of Leona’s ear. “You smell good.”
Leona’s ears flicked sharply, his tail giving an involuntary twitch. “The hell are you sniffin’ me for?”
Malleus chuckled, entirely unbothered. “I’m simply appreciating what’s in front of me.” His claws dragged lightly against Leona’s scalp, slow and deliberate.
Leona almost let out a sound. It rumbled in his throat before he caught himself, cutting it off halfway into an exhale that sounded far too much like a contented growl.
Malleus paused.
A smirk crept onto his face as he peered down at him. “That wasn’t quite a purr,” he mused, “but it was close.”
Leona immediately swatted his hand away. “Shut up.”
Malleus chuckled again, but this time, there was something warm in his gaze—something fond.
Leona turned onto his side, away from him, muttering curses under his breath. But Malleus knew.
And now, he was never going to let it go.
5.
Leona didn’t know when it started.
Maybe it was the first time they crashed in the same bed after a long day, too tired to bother fighting about personal space. Or maybe it was when Malleus realized Leona wouldn’t actually stop him. Either way, it had become a pattern—one that neither of them talked about.
Malleus always gravitated toward him in his sleep.
It started with just the weight of an arm draped over Leona’s waist. Then it was the way Malleus would shift closer, his warmth radiating through the blankets, his breath slow and steady against the back of Leona’s neck. And now? Now Malleus had him pulled flush against his chest, his arms wrapped fully around him, like some dragon hoarding treasure.
Leona had plenty of chances to shove him off. He should have.
But he didn’t.
Because—damn it—Malleus was warm.
Not just body heat, but something deeper. The kind of warmth that settled in his bones, that smoothed out all the rough edges of his exhaustion. It was steadying, soothing—and Leona hated how much he wanted it.
He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax. Malleus didn’t stir, completely lost in whatever dreams fae had. His hold on Leona was loose, but present, like he had instinctively pulled him closer without even waking up.
Leona could hear the steady rhythm of Malleus’ heartbeat—deep and unhurried, as if nothing in the world could shake him.
His fingers twitched when he felt movement—a slow, lazy shift against his scalp.
Malleus’ lips brushed the space between his ears, lingering for a moment before pressing a slow, absentminded kiss against the fur there.
Leona froze.
Heat crawled up his neck, and for one terrible second, his body betrayed him. The warmth, the steady heartbeat, the way Malleus’ fingers traced idle patterns against his spine—it was too much. The deep, contented feeling surged up in his chest, dangerously close to spilling over—
No.
He gritted his teeth, swallowing down the purr before it could happen.
His tail curled instinctively, pressing against Malleus’ leg, but he didn’t dare move. Did Malleus do that on purpose? Was he testing him again? Trying to get a reaction?
Then he heard it—Malleus’ breathing, slow and even.
He was asleep.
The realization hit like a brick to the face. The bastard wasn’t teasing him. Wasn’t plotting. He was just holding him, completely unaware of what he was doing.
Leona exhaled, scowling at nothing.
“Dumb lizard,” he muttered under his breath.
But he didn’t move away. Instead, his body sank further into the warmth, tail curling tighter as Malleus’ hand shifted slightly, resting against the small of his back.
If he ended up purring one day, it wouldn’t be his fault.
+ 1
It was late.
The kind of late where everything blurred together—the warmth of the sheets, the steady rise and fall of Malleus’ chest, the quiet crackle of magic in the air. Everything felt soft around the edges, wrapped in that strange haze between wakefulness and sleep.
Leona was tired, but it wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that weighed him down. It was the kind that made his body heavy, made his mind drift without urgency. And Malleus was there—always there—his arms loose around him, fingers tracing slow circles against his back.
They weren’t talking, not really. Malleus had been murmuring something earlier, words that had faded into the background hum of his magic. Leona didn’t bother processing them. He just let himself feel—the warmth, the steady heartbeat against his cheek, the comfort of being held without expectation.
Malleus shifted, his hand drifting up to the base of Leona’s ears. The touch was gentle, barely a whisper of pressure, before his fingers scratched.
And this time, Leona let it happen.
The purr started low—soft, barely a vibration in his chest. A sound so small that maybe it wouldn’t be noticed.
But Malleus heard it.
His hand stilled for just a fraction of a second, the only sign of his utter delight before he resumed petting, his fingers more deliberate now. His breath warmed the top of Leona’s head before he leaned down, pressing a kiss against his temple.
“I knew it,” he whispered, his voice smug but unbearably fond.
Leona grunted, eyes still shut. “Yeah, yeah. Get over yourself.”
Malleus laughed, the sound a deep, satisfied rumble. He tightened his hold, pulling Leona closer against his chest, his fingers resuming their slow strokes behind his ears.
Leona sighed—long, slow—and purred louder.
The sound vibrated through both of them, a deep, rolling cadence that he didn’t even try to suppress. He could feel Malleus smile against his hair, could feel the pleased hum of his magic wrap around them, lazy and content.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was inevitable. Malleus was going to find out eventually—whether tonight, tomorrow, or some other moment when Leona’s guard slipped just a little too far.
And… he was fine with that.
Because—damn it—Malleus was happy.
He could feel it in the way the fae cradled him, in the quiet exhale against his ear, in the way his fingers traced slow, lazy circles into his skin. Malleus wasn’t gloating, wasn’t mocking him. He was just happy.
And if Leona was being honest with himself… so was he.
His tail curled instinctively, wrapping around Malleus’ wrist in a silent claim, a wordless trust.
Leona inhaled deeply, letting himself breathe in Malleus’ scent—powerful, electric, threaded with that faint, smoky warmth that clung to him like a second skin. It was comforting in a way he couldn’t explain, something undeniably Malleus.
He let himself sink deeper into the warmth, let himself stay in the space Malleus had carved out for him.
Let himself feel safe.