"You're incredible," Dean whispered.
Arion, as if taking the word as permission rather than sarcasm, made a soft, satisfied sound and settled his weight more fully across Dean's torso, cheek pressed to Dean's throat like he had found the exact center of the universe and was now offended by the concept of leaving it.
Dean stayed very still for a long moment, because experience had taught him that dominants - especially exhausted, half-awake dominants - noticed movement the way wolves noticed a rabbit twitch. Arion's eyes were open now, barely, gold peeking through lashes as if he were awake only enough to confirm Dean's existence and then decide that consciousness was optional.
The absurd part was that he looked pleased about it.
Arion didn't even pretend to sit up. He didn't shift to create space. He didn't do the normal human thing where you wake and your body remembers you have duties, dignity, or at least a spine.
