There was a lot that Noctifer had dealt with in his eons of life. There was also a point where he took the form of a youth to help a potter sell his wares; everyone always likes a jovial child, it seems. Yet, all that came to naught when he had to heft the sleeping Solaris to his room. What made it worse was that he didn’t fully know where Solaris’ room was, nor did the fitful movements of the elder deity make his movement any easier. He felt sorry for him and whatever nightmare he fought in his dreams. Still, it was somewhat satisfying to have Solaris' grip onto his cloak or burrow deeper into his arms.
It soon came that Noctifer had to stop to adjust Solaris' outfit so that the fabric covered his legs, having seen one too many guards take a peek at the sandalwood-covered limbs of the deity. He didn’t want to feel jealous; he didn't actually. One thing about Noctifer was that his emotions warred between extremes, either a supreme desire to nurture and protect or one to destroy and cast down. Of late, those two have been more prominent. He thought it was more protective of him, wanting to protect Solaris from being exposed to others, especially after what had occurred.
He was dizzy at every remembrance of it—the way Solaris clenched around him or the whimpers of the solar deity in the throes of needed release. He would have to speak with Solaris about it in the morning to see where they stood and if it was just a drunken escapade, but O’ Heavens, he hoped it wasn’t. The god in his arms, half out of his own reality, was a stark reminder of a simpler time before he had become an adversary before he had become the embodiment of all that was sorrowful and dull. For lack of a better word, Solaris reminded him of his temple in the mountains. A steady home despite all around it, and that was what he would continue to see him as. He swore to himself, then and there, that he’d be there for Solaris, even if it cost him his sanity.
Sala had spoken to him earlier about Solaris’ recent endeavors in alchemy, her brow was furrowed, and only Ava managed to pull the goddess from her emotional strain. He offered Leah to the two of them while he went to check on the drunken ‘abba’. It seemed that they were all too quick to accept Leah into their arm. He was comforted in that it was more from an expansive maternal desire than a god keeping a human as a curiosity. All of this—this sudden alchemy, drunkenness, and sex—was new to Noctifer, and now these fitful dreams.
Finally, to the room, he came and shouldered upon the door, which shut almost as quickly as he had opened and stepped in. The room was dim, lit only by maybe one or two lanterns. One by the vanity and the other by the bed, with the rest of the room sparsely lit by moonlight. The bathroom, or what Noctifer thought would be the bathroom, was half open. Most inviting, however, was the bed with all of its wonderful fabrics. Noctifer chuckled to himself, appreciating Solaris’ eye for aesthetics. He reminded himself that the inherent inability of gods to sleep for any given benefit did not take away from the aesthetics of it. Falling asleep was more like meditation.
‘Might as well be comfortable,” he thought to himself as he tried to put Solaris down on the bed. The god squirmed when the sudden cold hit him, his breathing only coming out after a few minutes. Noctifer needed to change him; it didn’t feel right to leave him sitting in the stained robes and sweat, but he couldn’t think about what Solaris would have or where he’d put it. Frustratedly, he quickly ran to his rooms, nearly bumping into a guard and attendant, and grabbed his robe, which he had placed in a very obvious position:
‘Like a normal person,’ he cursed at himself and Solaris as he rushed back to the room. Getting there, the light that came in from the hallway sent Solaris into another fit, squirming this way and that way until Noctifer came to the bed and stroked the god’s hair, whispering slightly. After a few minutes of cooing and lulling, the god eventually fell back into some state of rest, where Noctifer then stroked his cheek, asking him to wake up even just a little bit. He groaned, turning away from Noctifer’s hand and burying his face against the sheets.
“Come on, Sol,” murmured Noctifer with increasing frustration. Finally, after some gentle prodding, Solaris relented and sat up, letting Noctifer pull off his robe and replace it with his own. Almost as quickly as that had been done, Solaris then fell back on the bed.
“Can’t be helped,” Noctifer sighed as he lifted Solaris’ legs fully onto the bed, covering him with a blanket that had become crumpled at the foot of the bed. As he was about to leave, Solaris reached out and half-grabbed at his robe. Turning around, Noctifer smiled when he saw the bleary-eyed god looking up at him. Not a word was said, but they both knew.
Noctifer shed his robes, climbing over Solaris and into the bed beside him. He pulled the blanket over himself and pulled Solaris close, the god immediately taking to the sudden warmth. He burrowed himself into Noxifer’s chest, letting out a content, drunken sigh before immediately passing out. Noctifer smiled to himself, rubbing the back of the sleeping god before falling asleep himself, still musing over that kiss they had shared earlier.
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The light proved to be an issue when it woke Solaris up. He felt as though his eyes were vibrating in his head, and the intrusion only made it worse. With a groan, he pulled the blanket over his head, hiding from the light. The sudden movement shook something in his head, which had begun to press against the sides of his skull like a bell. The last thought he wanted to deal with was how much he had drunk. Worse still, he didn’t want to think about what he had done if anything. His servants must’ve brought him to his rooms and cleaned him, it seems, but there was an issue. Usually, his robes were not so big, and these flooded him like waves of soft fabric.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He turned over, still groaning, when he hit something hard. It was warm but firm, and he hissed in annoyance when it pushed that same feeling through his head and light. He first noticed the chest hair and the faint remnants of the ash on their chest. He noted the smell of sandalwood, but what finally struck him was the presence of rampant black hair across the pillows and sheets, scarcely tied up. It was him, and Solaris was lying in bed with Noctifer. He barely had a memory, but it slowly dripped into his waking mind, causing him to groan but also feel hot again. The memory of that ecstasy and Noctifer’s ravenous eyes.
Noctifer murmured something akin to ‘back to sleep’, as he grabbed the sheet and pulled it over Solaris. He pulled the deity closer to his chest. Solaris wanted to resist, but he was conflicted. It was warm, despite the sudden intrusion of memories, which caused him to cringe in shame. Half-asleep, Noctifer stroked his back as if to comfort him from a nightmare, but the two of them were so distant in their worlds. Solaris hid his face in the deity’s chest, relaxing when the smells of both sandalwood and Noctifer’s scent hit him. It was then that Solaris realized the god’s nudity compared to him and his size. He shivered at the thought, and whether it was from a sense of shame or delight, he didn’t know.
“Noctifer?” He murmured, feeling Noctifer’s arm tighten in response.
“Did we do anything last night?”
“Yes,” was all Noctifer said, rubbing his face against the pillow with a yawn.
“I don’t feel anything,” he murmured, trying to see if there was any actual pain he felt in his body.
“You were drunk; you didn’t want to take advantage,” he murmured, pulling Solaris closer with his hand, and stroking the god’s red hair. “Sleep.”
“It’s already daybreak,” Solaris responded, nuzzling his face against Noctifer’s chest. To be frank, he wasn’t in the mood to leave either. It was comforting and a long-overdue rest. It was like finally coming home. Noctifer sighed, inching downward to press his lips against Solaris’ head. The deity let out a content sigh, drawing patterns on Noctifer’s chest. He felt the pacing of the god’s heart under his fingers and the way that the god smiled wearily down.
“You’re like a child sometimes,” he said warningly, his eyes creased with a deep adoration. He rolled onto his back, and his arm ran under Solaris’ side, pulling him closer. The deity rested his head on Noctifer’s chest and stared vacantly out into the room.
“Daybreak,” Noctifer realized with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes. He traced circles on Solaris’ head, looking down at the god, who lazily rested in his arms. A sigh left him, and he patted the back of the solar deity, bidding him to get up so that they could do something. Solaris whined, pulling the blanket over his head. Noctifer, used to discomfort, got up first. He huffed as he ran his fingers through his hair, catching on to some knots that had formed during the evening. Solaris heard this, pulling the blanket down to look at the god with a vague sense of annoyance.
“Do you want me to brush it out for you?” he murmured, grabbing the pillow and hugging it tightly. Noctifer sighed again, moving to the vanity, where he took up a brush and handed it over to Solaris, who took it quietly, sitting up in the bed. He parted some of Noctifer’s hair, frowning when it caught on other strands. He ran the brush through the hair, top to bottom, followed by his fingers. Something was entrancing about how Noctifer’s hair moved and coiled, like small snakes. The curls didn’t help that much, which aggravated both.
Solaris sat up properly and ran the brush through the hair again, this time getting through it without as many snags. He heaved a sigh of relief as he continued to part the hair and brush, repeating this an odd number of times until Noctifer’s hair was neater. He didn’t know much about how Noctifer preferred his hair, but he spent his time mindlessly plaiting and unplaiting it as Noctifer remained in a small waking sleep. It seemed thematically appropriate, thought Solaris, that the solar deity would be more alert during the day than the lunar deity. He also wondered if Noctifer had ever eaten a proper breakfast in the time he spent down on earth. The god was skin and bones at worst, and the morning light only sharpened the shadows of his ribs. Asceticism, he recalled, was one of the domains of the deity.
Noctifer, still half-asleep, leaned back against Solaris, preventing any more brushing at that point. All Solaris could do was rest his head against Noctifer’s hair, his arms wrapped around the god’s shoulders, as he patiently waited for the morning to start, at his discretion.