"So, looks like you found something," Icarus said, clearing his throat.Aria lit up. "Yes! You're a genius, Icarus!" She grabbed his hand without thinking, shaking it excitedly.
He didn't let go right away. He took a step closer, voice lower now. "I haven't been sleeping lately."
She didn't need to ask why. Her cheeks heated just remembering their last encounter. It was... too much.
"You're thinking about that again, aren't you?" he murmured.
"No," she whispered, lying terribly.
He smirked. "Then I deserve a reward. At least for being the clever one today."His gaze drifted to her neck. The mark Abigel left hadn't faded yet.
"Cheeky bastard," he muttered.
"What?" she blinked at him.
He brushed her hair aside and traced the mark with his fingers. She shivered."Are you... jealous?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer—just pouted dramatically before leaning into her shoulder, his nose brushing against her neck like a lazy cat seeking warmth. She laughed, breathless."That tickles."
But then his lips met her skin, and everything changed. The tease deepened—slow, deliberate, and claiming."Icarus…" she breathed, tugging at his hair, dizzy from the feeling.
And then—just like him—she flipped the moment.
With a spark in her eye, she pushed him down to the floor, straddling him with quiet power. His glasses fell off, shirt half undone, and her fingers traced his chest like a map she already knew.
He covered his face with one hand, groaning.
"Is this enough of a reward?" she teased, biting gently at his collarbone.
He didn't answer. Just grabbed her, flipping her beneath him in one smooth motion.
"You're not afraid?" he asked, voice husky, eyes serious now.
"Why should I be?"
He kissed her then. Raw, fierce, hungry. Like every time might be the last.Aria lay beneath Icarus, her hair tousled and fanned out like wildfire against the cold stone floor. Her dress was wrinkled and slightly off one shoulder, lips swollen from kisses, her eyes still glazed with the heat of the moment. A mark—fresh and bruised—was blooming just on her neck, and her fingers were still tangled in his hair.
Icarus hovered above her, breathing hard, his shirt half open, collar twisted. His cravat had vanished somewhere, his usually neat hair now completely untied, a lock falling into his eyes. His lips glistened, and there were faint scratch marks along his chest where her nails had caught him in the heat of it. His glasses—thrown somewhere near a stack of old records—were slightly cracked at the edge.
The flush on his cheeks made him look dangerously alive.
"We look like we were struck by lightning," Aria whispered, dazed, voice breathy.
"Twice," Icarus replied, smirking against her neck, but he was still catching his breath too.
A sudden noise
The records around them began to shuffle on their own, pages fluttering like restless wings. Scrolls unrolled. Tomes stacked and unstacked themselves. A quiet hum filled the air, like magic or memory stretching its limbs after slumber.
A shiver ran down Aria's spine.
"So what Uncle said was true… it resets at midnight," she whispered.
"Mm. That old man was always like that," Icarus murmured, pulling her into his lap, resting his chin on her shoulder as they watched the room shift.
"Hey, that's my great-grandfather. You can't just call him 'that old man.'"
"Fine, your great old man," Icarus grinned lazily.
"I heard he was a soul forger. What exactly does that mean?"
"It means he could see beyond time—visions, dimensions. Past, present, future… all overlapping. Dangerous gift. And dangerous man."
Aria's lips parted, a chill brushing her skin. Dimensions…? Different worlds…?Something throbbed at the back of her mind. An ache. A memory, or maybe a possibility.
She closed her eyes. "So... does that connect to me somehow?"
"I think your questions will be answered eventually." Icarus's tone was soft, thoughtful.
"You always say that like you know everything."
"Not everything." He tilted his head. "But I lived around long enough to form some theories. Still... if I told you, it would break everything he put in place."
Aria sighed. "Then don't tell me." She started to get up, brushing dust off her dress.
But Icarus's arms slipped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"Just a little longer," he said, voice low.
Her breath caught. "Now I've got another mark to hide."
Icarus chuckled, burying his face into her shoulder. "Don't hide it. If you do… I'll mark you everywhere."
"Everywhere?" she asked, teasing.
His hands gripped her tighter. He let out a groan, muffled against her skin.
"Please don't make me crazier than I already am…"
"I'll think about it," Aria replied with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Icarus rested his chin lightly on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist.
"Maybe I should take you to the tower and hide you there," he murmured. "So no one else can see you smile… or hear you laugh. Only me."
Aria raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "That actually sounds interesting."
She shifted slightly in his lap, turning just enough to meet his gaze. Her voice dropped a little—still playful, but heavier with implication."But… do you know how to do the rest of the things?"
Icarus leaned his head back against the stone wall with a soft thunk. He didn't need to ask what she meant. The question lingered between them, deliberate and teasing.
He swallowed.
Icarus had always lived for one woman. Just one. Everything in him—devotion, madness, restraint—was centred on her. So if Aria was asking whether he knew what to do…
Of course, he didn't. Not truly.
And she knew that.
"I… I'll learn," he muttered, gaze flicking away in embarrassment.
Aria couldn't help it—she laughed; a warm, real sound that made his ears burn.
He looked like he might combust right there, chest rising a bit faster.
Then, his voice dropped low—barely above a whisper, almost trembling in its sincerity.
"But… if I learn…" he paused, gathering his nerve."Will you do it with me?"