The room is hushed — drenched in moonlight that filters through sheer curtains, casting silver across the stone floor and the edge of the bed. You kneel on the edge of the mattress in a soft white gown, sleep-tousled and still trembling from dreams that had felt too real. Dreams of him. Of wings you weren’t allowed to see. Of a touch you craved even when forbidden.

Then he’s there.

Eros appears as if drawn from your longing — his wings unfolding behind him like a living sigh, pale and powerful, catching the moonlight in feathers that gleam soft gold at the tips. His arms are around you before your breath can catch. His body warm, solid, and trembling with the same ache that pulses beneath your skin.

Your hands grasp at the linen of his robes, pulling him close with a desperation that doesn't need words. His name falls from your lips in a whisper, reverent, like prayer.

“Eros…”

He doesn't speak — not yet. He presses his forehead to yours, lips just barely grazing, as though drinking in your presence before daring to truly taste it. One of his hands cradles the back of your head; the other wraps tightly around your waist, anchoring you to him like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again.

“I dreamed of you every night,” you murmur.

He exhales like that confession wounds him, and then kisses you — slow, deep, aching with everything that’s gone unsaid. There’s no rush in it. Only reverence.

Your knees sink deeper into the soft bedding as he lifts you slightly against him, as if trying to merge your bodies, to prove that you're real — no longer a dream or memory. His wings curve protectively around you both, sheltering this moment, dimming the rest of the world until there is only the two of you in a room soaked in starlight.

“I broke every rule for you,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough, breaking with restraint. “I would do it again. A thousand times.”

You hold his face in your hands, looking into the eyes of the god who loved you in darkness, and love him now in full light. You don’t speak. You don’t have to.

Your kiss is your answer. The way you melt into his arms. The way your fingers slide into his curls. The way your heart hammers against his chest as if it’s trying to reach him through your skin.