19. Chapter 19 - Theron
Theron remained standing near the center of the room while Matt moved toward the attached bathroom, exhaustion dragging visibly through every movement now that adrenaline had finally burned away.
The bond carried all of it clearly between them: pain, relief, emotional overload, and beneath everything else, the steady grounding awareness that neither of them was alone anymore.
Matt turned the shower on a moment later.
Steam began curling outward through the partially open doorway.
Theron drifted toward the bathroom almost without realizing it.
The bathroom lights reflected softly across dark tile and gathering steam while hot water poured steadily from the wall-mounted fixture into the shower below. Theron studied it with open suspicion again, though this time the reaction felt less overwhelmed than curious.
Matt noticed the expression. “You are looking at that shower like it just issued a formal challenge to your bloodline.”
Theron continued watching the stream of hot water pour from the wall with deep suspicion. “I spent centuries believing naturally heated underground pools represented sophistication. Apparently modern civilization decided the superior approach was weaponized boiling rain.”
Matt snorted while stripping off what remained of his ruined shirt. “You fought a centuries-old nightmare king and somehow this is still the thing you can’t process.”
“The nightmare king at least behaved consistently.”
Matt laughed softly.
The sound settled warmly through the bond again.
Theron found himself staring at him longer than intended afterward.
Without armor, blood, or adrenaline between them, Matt suddenly looked painfully real in ways the mountain had never allowed before.
Bruises darkened portions of his chest and throat beneath the harsh bathroom lighting while healing cuts crossed his shoulders and ribs from the collapse beneath the throne chamber.
Theron felt guilt twist sharply through the bond before he could suppress it.
Matt noticed. “Hey,” he said quietly.
Theron looked away first.
Matt stepped closer instead. “You did not do this to me.”
“He came after you because of me.”
“The King tried,” Matt corrected gently. “Big difference.”
The affection that moved through the bond afterward felt almost unbearable in its honesty.
Theron had spent centuries learning how to survive fear, violence, isolation, and duty. None of it prepared him for tenderness.
Matt stepped close enough now that Theron could feel the heat of his skin through the steam-filled air between them. The scent of rain, smoke, and mountain dust still clung faintly to both of them beneath the sharper smell of blood and stone.
“You’re staring again,” Matt said softly.
Theron realized he was. “I am attempting to understand something.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
Theron’s gaze lifted back toward him. “You nearly died.”
Matt’s expression softened. “So did you.”
“Yes.”
The simple acknowledgment settled heavily between them.
For a long moment neither of them moved.
The steam thickened gradually around them while water continued pouring steadily into the shower beside them, filling the room with soft sound and warmth.
Theron became aware of every small detail with uncomfortable clarity: the pulse beating steadily beneath Matt’s throat, the lingering tension in his shoulders, the heat radiating between them through the bond.
The realization still struck Theron every time he looked at him.
Matt’s fingers brushed lightly against Theron’s wrist. The contact sent warmth through the bond.
Not the violent overwhelming surge they had experienced inside the mountain. This felt quieter. Deeper. Like the connection between them no longer needed to fight simply to exist.
Matt studied him carefully for another second before speaking again. “You keep looking at me like I might disappear.”
Theron did not answer because denying it would have been pointless.
Matt’s thumb brushed across the inside of his wrist again. “I’m here.”
Something inside Theron finally loosened beneath them, not his control, but the fear wrapped tightly around it for centuries. Fear of attachment. Fear of loss. Fear of surviving long enough to watch every person who mattered disappear while he remained behind to carry the weight alone.
And somehow, without Theron realizing when it happened, Matt had walked straight through every wall that fear had built.
His hand rose before settling against Matt’s chest. Warm skin and steady heartbeat met his palm through the steam between them, and the bond flared softly in response.
The simple reality of it struck Theron with unexpected force.
Matt was alive, real, and standing here beside him instead of existing only as another loss Theron would carry alone.
Matt covered Theron’s hand with his own, like he understood exactly what the contact meant.
Theron lowered his forehead against Matt’s, eyes closing briefly as exhaustion and emotion tangled together beneath the bond. For several seconds they simply stood there breathing the same steam-heavy air while the world outside the room faded into silence.
Matt kissed him first, and with almost unbearable care, like he was giving Theron every opportunity to stop this before it became something neither of them could pretend not to feel anymore.
Theron did not pull away.
He stepped into the kiss instead.
The kiss deepened gradually, warmth spreading through the bond with every soft movement of Matt’s mouth against his.
Nothing about it felt rushed. After everything beneath the mountain, this felt less like surrendering to desire and more like finally allowing themselves to stop fighting what had already grown between them.
Matt’s hand slid carefully along Theron’s jaw before settling against the back of his neck, grounding him gently beneath the contact.
Theron kissed him back with growing intensity before he could stop himself.
Matt made a quiet sound against his mouth that sent heat spiraling sharply through the bond. The reaction startled both of them.
Matt pulled back just enough to look at him, breath uneven now beneath the steam curling around them. “Okay,” he said softly. “That’s going to become a problem.”
Theron stared at him for one suspended heartbeat before something unfamiliar and dangerously light moved through his chest. Amusement. Real amusement. The kind that crept up without warning and settled somewhere behind his ribs, warm and foreign.
“You continue saying strange things during serious moments.”
Matt smiled. Water streamed down his face, catching in the hollow of his throat. “Yeah, but now you like it.”
The warmth that spread through Theron afterward answered before words could.
It was true.
He did like it. Liked the way Matt’s humor cut through the weight he carried, the way he refused to let the moment grow too heavy. Liked that Matt saw him, all the sharp edges and quiet spaces, and still smiled like that.
Steam curled between them, the shower spray beating against Theron’s shoulders, tracing rivulets down his chest. He had turned the water hot. Almost too hot. The kind of heat that forced his muscles to loosen, that made him feel less like he was braced for something.
Matt’s hand found his jaw again. Slower this time. Deliberate. The calluses on Matt’s palm scraped gently against the stubble there, and Theron’s breath caught without permission.
He did not pull away.
Matt’s thumb traced the line of his cheekbone. “You’re thinking too much.”
“I’m always thinking.”
“I know.” Matt’s eyes held his, warm and brown, darker in the dim light. “That’s why I keep distracting you.”
Theron huffed something that might have been a laugh. Rustier this time, but still there. Still real. “It’s working.”
And this time, when Matt kissed him again, Theron stepped willingly into it.
No hesitation. No second-guessing. He pressed forward, meeting Matt’s mouth with an openness that surprised them both.
His hand came up, palm flat against the tile beside Matt’s head, caging him in without meaning to.
The water cascaded over them both, hot and relentless, plastering Matt’s hair to his forehead.
Matt made a sound against his lips. Low. Pleased. His fingers slid into Theron’s wet hair, tugging gently, and Theron’s spine went liquid.
The kiss deepened. Slower than in the cave. No desperation clawing at the edges. Matt’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, and Theron opened for him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been doing this for years instead of hours.
Matt’s other hand found his chest beneath the spray. Fingers spread wide over the muscle, palm pressing flat, feeling the rhythm of his heart. Theron knew what he would find, a pulse hammering too fast, a body that could not hide what it felt no matter how still he kept his face.
“You’re shaking,” Matt breathed against his mouth.
Theron stilled. He had not noticed. His hands were steady against the tile, but somewhere deeper, somewhere in the bones, there was a tremor he could not name.
“Not from cold,” Matt added softly. Like he already knew.
Theron’s jaw tightened. The truth sat in his throat, too large to swallow. “I don’t know what to do with this.” The admission came rough, scraped raw. “With you. With any of it.”
Matt pulled back just enough to look at him. The shower light caught the water beading on his lashes, the faint flush warming his cheeks.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Matt said softly. “Just stay.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s everything.”
Theron stared at him. The words reached somewhere nothing else had.
He had spent centuries learning how to leave before loss could find him first, convincing himself that distance hurt less than attachment.
Staying was harder. Staying meant trusting that tomorrow would still exist, that the ground beneath him would not disappear the moment he allowed himself to want it.
Matt brushed his thumb lightly across the corner of Theron’s mouth. “We can stand here as long as you want.”