Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 252: A moment of happines (Win - Win)

Chapter 252: Chapter 252: A moment of happines (Win - Win)
Dax did not wait for an answer.
Chris did not give one. The conclusion was that Dax was indeed a menace.
The next thing Chris registered was the floor, cool through the rug, solid, and unforgiving and the fact that his body had simply... stopped cooperating.
’Boneless’
was the only accurate word for it. His limbs refused to organize themselves into anything resembling movement, his thoughts were pleasantly blurred, and the wardrobe ceiling felt very far away.
He lay there, sprawled inelegantly, cheek pressed into the rug, breathing slow and deep like his system had decided this was a perfectly acceptable place to power down.
"Do not," Chris said faintly, without lifting his head, "expect me to stand."
Dax hummed above him, entirely unrepentant. There was the soft sound of fabric shifting, then weight settling beside him. A shadow fell across Chris’s field of vision.
"I don’t," Dax said calmly. "You’re exactly where I want you."
Chris managed to turn his head just enough to glare. It lacked any real heat. "You are unbearable."
"Yes," Dax agreed. "But you love me for it."
A hand slid under Chris’s shoulder, adjusting him with care that would have been touching if it weren’t so obviously proprietary. Dax tugged him closer until Chris was half draped against his thigh, back warm, safe, and pinned in that quiet way that required no effort at all.
Chris exhaled and gave up entirely.
"This is a trap," he muttered.
Dax’s fingers brushed through his damp hair, slow and methodical, the menace now reduced to a smug, satisfied presence at his back. "A very comfortable one."
Chris closed his eyes. "Don’t even think of a second round. I was promised food. Real food."
Dax did not move for a long moment.
Then he sighed, long and theatrical, as if burdened by great sacrifice.
"Fine," he said. "Food."
Chris cracked one eye open, suspicious. "That was too easy."
"It wasn’t," Dax replied, already reaching for his phone. "I am exercising restraint. You should appreciate it."
Chris let his face fall back into the rug. "I do. Immensely. From down here."
Dax shifted again, one arm sliding more securely around Chris’s middle, anchoring him in place while he scrolled with the other hand. Chris made a small, content sound despite himself.
"You’re not allowed to move," Dax added, tone mild but final. "If you do, I revoke the promise."
"That’s extortion."
"Yes."
Chris huffed a weak laugh. "What are you ordering?"
"Something you can eat without effort," Dax said. "And something I can steal from your plate."
Chris smiled, eyes closing again, his body heavy and loose in a way that felt earned. "You are absolutely a menace."
Dax dipped his head and pressed a brief kiss into Chris’s hair.
"A well-fed one," he said.
Chris hummed, then his mind informed him that he hadn’t eaten something he liked in a while. Marta was a very good chef, but she was cooking mostly sahan food. "I want pasta. No. I want mac and cheese."
Dax paused mid-scroll.
Chris felt it immediately, the subtle shift in attention, the way Dax’s focus snapped fully onto him without moving a muscle.
"...Mac and cheese," Dax repeated, carefully.
"Yes," Chris said, still face-down on the rug, voice muffled but resolute. "The bad kind. The kind that offends tradition. I want it swimming in cheese and regret."
Silence stretched for half a second.
Then Dax’s chest moved against Chris’s back as he laughed, low, helpless, and entirely unguarded.
"That," he said, "is an inspired choice."
Chris smiled faintly. Victory.
"You realize," Dax continued, already adjusting his order, "that Killian would consider this a personal failure."
"I will eat it anyway," Chris replied. "With devotion."
Dax slid his phone aside and tightened his arm just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment. "You’re not moving until it arrives."
"Good," Chris murmured. "I have no bones."
Dax leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "I noticed."
Chris sighed, content, the world reduced to warm weight, soft rug, and the promise of melted cheese.
"This," he said drowsily, "is a win-win."
Dax smiled against his hair.
—
Dax stayed where he was after that, breathing slow and even, as though any unnecessary movement might disturb something delicate that had only just settled into place.
From this angle, with Chris heavy and pliant against him, limbs loose and unguarded, the world had narrowed in a way Dax was not used to allowing. There were no councils waiting, no s stacked in his periphery, and no quiet calculations ticking at the back of his skull. There was only the steady warmth of another body fitting into his without resistance, the kind of closeness that did not demand vigilance or control, only presence.
It unsettled him precisely because it felt so... easy.
Happiness had never been something Dax planned for. It was not a strategy, not a measurable outcome, and not a state he had ever considered sustainable. It was something other people reached for, usually briefly, usually at a cost. He had learned early that anything precious drew attention, and attention invited loss.
And yet here was Chris, boneless and trusting on the wardrobe floor, asking for food that offended tradition and laughing softly when Dax indulged him, as though being held like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Dax let his chin rest lightly against Chris’s head, careful with the pressure. He had learned, quickly, how aware Chris was of every shift, every change in tension. Even now, half-dazed and melted into the rug, he would notice if Dax tightened his hold too much or pulled away too suddenly. Chris chose softness where others would have hardened.
’I didn’t think this would ever be for me.’
Dax admitted it, the thought settling heavily but not unpleasantly.
A life that included shared spaces and small wants. Mundane negotiations about food. Holding someone because he wanted to, not because he was obligated to claim, shield, or dominate. It felt almost dangerous in its ordinariness.
Fate had taught him caution. Everything he had ever loved had been temporary. People were taken, alliances fractured, and peace proved conditional at best. Even now, the thought lingered at the edge of his mind, sharp and unwanted: ’
don’t name it too clearly, or the world will hear and take offense.’
His arm tightened around Chris anyway, just slightly, betraying that fear.
Chris responded without waking fully, a small, content sound slipping from him, the kind that vibrated straight through Dax’s chest. He did not question the hold. He did not pull away. He simply accepted the closeness as given, as something that was allowed.
’Dangerous,’
Dax thought, with something close to reverence.
He lowered his head and pressed his mouth into Chris’s hair again, breathing him in, anchoring himself in the weight and warmth of the present. If fate intended to be cruel, it would have to wait its turn.
For now, Chris was here. Alive. Warm. Happy.
And for this moment, Dax let himself keep it.