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Cyno is a tender soul. Such words sound inane for the average scholar in Sumeru with the General Mahamatra as the thorn in many of their sides. He is very aware of the sentiments shared by many about him. But when he steps into his home under the shades of a cloudy night sky after long hours of strenuous duties, guided home by the luster of lamplights, he is temporarily relieved of his heavy title as General Mahamatra and becomes simply Cyno, your attentive husband.
Ambient sounds of crickets chirp around Cyno as he silently begins his journey back home. Sharp eyes never stopped scanning and surveying the surroundings for any unwelcome disturbances to his night time routine. Tonight he returned later than usual. Cyno could almost picture the worried frown on your face.
Cyno at the moment is faced with a cozy sight. He gingerly closes the door behind him as his ruby eyes lands upon your dozed figure curled up on the couch. You were sleeping peacefully, unceremoniously drooling on a pillow with a book tucked between your hands. A small stir and snort in your slumber from the noise of him shutting the door brought a gentle smile to his face and a rumbling chuckle in his chest. His shoulders laxed, feeling the burdening weight being lifted off as he gazed at you
Cyno briefly wondered how long you attempted to stay up for him before slumbering became too enticing for you to resist. Placing his head piece away, Cyno knelt down to press sweet kisses to your forehead, temple, and cheeks. The pages of the book were being creased from your hands clasping over the rims. You would definitely have an amusingly disgruntled expression when you realize it. The thought of a specific ashen-haired scribe scowling at the treatment of this book gave the Cyno another chuckle.
Cyno sat there and stared at you longingly for a while before tearing his gaze away. He wanted to shower himself before he could touch you. He resisted himself from simply taking you in his arms. Cyno wanted to wash away the sweat and residual messes from the day before he could hold you. His footsteps grew faint as he went away to the bathroom.
Upon returning from his shower, Cyno is met with the same sight of you on the couch. You snoozed away, seemingly oblivious to the troubles of the world. He leaned down to you, pressing more kisses to your face. His arms came to cradle and hold your form close to him.
“My beautiful wife.” The words spill out of him so naturally that anyone would’ve assumed it came from a lovestruck poet and not the terror-inducing General Mahamatra.
Cyno’s sharp eyes flickered over you, noticing how the book was now neatly shut to prevent any further tears and creases. He didn’t miss the subtle, upward tug of your lips from his words.
Cyno leaned in closer, his damp ivory hair tickling your face. You twitched, and your shoulders slightly shook in his soft embrace. You were desperately fighting the urge to grin and swat his hair away. You ended up with a funny looking grimace on your face as Cyno snickered quietly, purposely tickling your nose and ears with his hair. You finally cracked your eyes open with an annoyed huff.
“So you’re finally awake now,” Cyno remarked with an amused expression, “how long were you planning on pretending to be asleep?” You couldn’t help but grin widely.
“I would’ve stayed like that longer if you hadn’t used your hair like a feather duster on my face.”
Mirthful, unadulterated laughs were exchanged under the gentle glow of the lampshade. You closed your eyes again with a tired but gleeful smile. “I’m gonna pretend to be asleep. Carry me to bed, okay?” Cyno merely breathed an amused huff at your demand.
You were perhaps the only person to ever have the privilege to demand these things from Cyno without an inch of fright. But if it meant your happiness, Cyno would hold you in his arms until the only thing that could pry you out of his protective grip was death.
Without complaint, He hooked his arms under your torso and knees, picking you up with ease. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he carried you bridal style. The entire world felt silent as he walked to your shared bedroom. Placing on the soft bed sheets, you gazed up at your lover with a placid look.
Cyno undressed his top before turning on the lamp. The soft illumination gave your husband a warm and complacent aura. He dove into the covers with you, arms wrapping around you. A great sigh of satisfaction escaped you as your arms trailed over Cyno’s torso. Even with the lack of clothing covering his upper-body, you could only look at him with adoration.
In the beginning, Cyno couldn’t see himself in such a situation due to his dangerous line of work. The three words, if he ever spoke it to someone, could be turned into weapons to cut down his loved ones. Cyno thought he built a high wall for himself, yet you somehow still wormed your way in so easily, and he let you.
Your fingers gently traced the contours of his bronze skin, lovingly caressing over every scar and blemish. Those marks carried history behind them, a history not everyone could softly brush. Cyno dug his face into the crook of your neck, his lashes tickling your skin. Only you could see Cyno like this, vulnerable and soft. Yes, you were his solace. His muse.
Cyno pressed gentle kisses on your neck, muttering about his day while you listened quietly. The soft breathing felt feathery as your intertwined hearts beat at a melodic, resonating rhyme. You held each other with legs tangled under the blanket, conveying wordless affection. Cyno reached over the nightstand and turned the lamp off, shrouding your figures in a blanket of darkness as you dozed off.