Chris thought he was asleep, and that made every word hit deeper. The self-mockery, the reluctant surrender, the quiet, whispered 'you win.' It sank into Dax's chest like warmth after frostbite.
He hadn't expected this and never allowed himself to hope for it. He had spent years being the monster in the story, the king who took what he wanted and left nothing standing. But Chris didn't see a monster. He saw a man, he saw him, Dax.
That realization scared him more than battle ever had.
Dax closed his eyes again, letting himself breathe through the ache that came with it. The scent of the room was a mix of them now: spice and rain and something faintly sweet, a note that had to be Chris. He didn't mark him, but he showered the omega in his scent.
