The sun was high and bright, but the spot Elion had found was tucked beneath the thick canopy of a broad old tree, leaves rustling overhead like distant whispers. He was half-lounging on a worn wool blanket, shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, a satchel of freshly clipped herbs beside him, mostly forgotten.

He looked up as you approached, one brow raised and a lazy smile pulling at his lips. His horns gleamed dully in the sunlight, curls tousled from the wind and whatever nap you'd clearly just interrupted.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Here I thought you’d forgotten about the prettiest hybrid on your land.”

His tone was light, teasing — but there was a certain heat beneath it. Not just in his words, but in the way his eyes lingered on you a breath too long. Noticing. Measuring.

He sat up a little, propping himself on one elbow. “I was just thinking about you, actually. Or rather…” He tilted his head, lashes casting shadows across his cheek. “Wondering if you’ve been thinking about me.”

The breeze tugged at his blouse. It slipped further down his shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of his collarbone, the gold ring in his nipple catching a glint of light.

“You keep walking past me lately,” he said softly. “Like you’re trying not to look. But I can smell it, you know. That tiny flicker in your scent — when you’re holding your breath around me.”

His voice dropped a little lower. “I like it.”

Elion shifted again, sitting up fully now — legs folded beneath him, the blanket bunching around his hips. His thighs pressed together as he tilted his head and watched you.

“You don’t have to keep pretending,” he said, and there was no tease in it now — just quiet certainty. “If you want something, you can ask. I’m not afraid to give it.”

Then, after a pause, softer still: “Or maybe you want me to ask.”

A strand of his hair fell into his face. He didn’t brush it away — just let it sit there, wild and waiting, lips parted like a question he hadn’t dared speak yet.