The shadows wrapped tighter around his wrists. Vines brushed along his thighs, curling at the waistband of his pants, curious, almost gentle.
Then her hand joined them.
No ceremony. No shy hesitation.
She touched him like he belonged to her. Because he did.
Malvor arched under her, the laugh that slipped out turning ragged, wrecked. "Stars, if this is divine punishment, I'll sin again."
Annie didn't respond. She just kissed lower. Across his chest. His stomach.
The vines shifted again, sliding beneath his hips, lifting him slightly as if offering him up.
And that was when he lost the ability to be clever.
Time went strange.
Seconds stretched. Minutes curled. His magic sparked uncontrolled, lighting up the chamber like fireworks behind his eyes.
Annie moved over him like worship, like she was rewriting his divinity with every stroke, every press of her body against his.
He tried to speak. She silenced him with her mouth.
Tried to move. The vines refused.
Tried to remember who he was. Forgot.
Because he wasn't the god of chaos in that moment.
He was hers.
When she finally sank down onto him, it was like the world aligned.
No grand drama. No thunderclap. Just a soundless, soul-deep truth:
This. This was where they both began again.
Her hands braced on his chest. Her breath shaky but sure. Her pace, controlled. Measured. Powerful.
He watched her, head spinning, barely coherent. The shadows framed her like a crown. The vines curled up her thighs like worshippers.
Malvor moaned, raw, helpless. "You are going to destroy me."
Annie smirked. Then rocked her hips again.
He saw stars.
Literally. Arbor dimmed the lights.
Their rhythm built in waves, matching the pull of the vines, the pulse of magic, the quiet ache of too much and not enough.
One of the vines coiled around his throat, not choking, just tight enough to remind him he was vulnerable. Every time he exhaled, it tightened. Every time she moved, it loosened. She controlled his air the same way she controlled his body. And stars, he thanked her for it.
Malvor's chaos surged every time she moaned. Time cracked. Space hummed. The world tilted toward her.
He was coming apart.
And she was watching.
Like it pleased her. Like she was proud.
When it finally broke, when they shattered into each other, breathless and burning, the vines bloomed. Real flowers. Wild, chaotic, bright.
The magic pulsed outward in a shockwave of gold and violet light.
And still, she didn't let go.
She stayed pressed to him, forehead to forehead, eyes locked.
Not speaking.
Just knowing.
Annie brushed a hand down his chest, gentle now, like she was smoothing out every sharp edge she'd carved. "You okay?" she mouthed. Malvor blinked, dazed. "I can see eternity." She raised a brow. "It looks like your thighs."
They curled around each other, tangled in vines and sweat and stardust.
Magic still hummed in the air, soft and lazy now, like it was exhaling too.
Malvor blinked up at the ceiling, completely wrecked.
His hair was a disaster. His chest heaved like he'd survived a war. His wrists were still loosely bound in vines that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Fade to black," he muttered hoarsely, "with all dignity obliterated."
Annie laughed, silently, but full and real.
She agreed.
They curled around the two of them like a nest, twisting into a soft, breathing cocoon of warmth and aftermath. Magic still crackled in the air, thick with everything they didn't say.
Malvor lay flat on his back, chest rising too fast, hair wild, mouth swollen from kisses that felt like declarations.
Annie was half-draped over him, arms lazy, face pressed to his neck, exhaling like she'd just exorcised a demon through chaos and sex.
She looked at peace.
He looked like he'd seen god, and she'd tied him up.
Which, to be fair… accurate.
Malvor blinked up at the vines overhead. They pulsed gently with residual magic, almost smug.
"Okay," he said to the ceiling. "So that happened."
Annie did not respond.
Just made a soft, satisfied sound against his throat.
"I mean. I knew you were hot," he continued. "I didn't know you were 'shatter my spine with botany and bend space-time around my soul' hot."
Another hum from her. Still not talking. Still touching him like she owned him.
Which she did now. He was pretty sure that's how it worked.
Malvor stared into the middle distance.
His legs still felt like jelly. His magic was misfiring. His soul had been kissed into submission.
He was a god.
A chaos god.
And somehow, he'd just been spiritually, and possibly anatomically, dominated by a woman who could not even speak out loud.
"Annie."
She lifted her head slightly, one brow raised.
He looked at her, all soft and glowing and dangerous, and absolutely wrecked.
"I'm going to need a minute to reprocess my entire identity."
She smirked.
His heart did the stupid thing again.
He reached up, trailing a finger down her arm. "You broke me."
She nodded.
"On purpose."
Another nod.
"I'm not even mad."
She shrugged, utterly unbothered, and tucked herself closer.
The vines tightened around them like a hug from the universe.
Malvor sighed dramatically. "Gods, this is going to ruin me. I'm going to start asking to be choked during training. Arbor's going to judge me. My enemies are going to find out."
Annie rolled her eyes.
He leaned in, whispering against her skin, "...My worshipers are going to be so confused."
She laughed silently, and he felt it against his ribs.
"I mean it," he said. "I can't go back to normal now. You've officially corrupted me."
Annie reached up, brushed his hair back, and mouthed: You were already corrupted.
He grinned.
"Yeah. But now I'm corrupted better."