Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 253: Morning to warm to be real (Win-Win)

Chapter 253: Chapter 253: Morning to warm to be real (Win-Win)
Morning found Dax awake long before it found Chris.
This was not unusual. Sleep had never been something Dax trusted enough to linger in. His body woke as if summoned by habit rather than light, senses sharp, mind already cataloguing the quiet of the room. No alarms. No movement beyond the slow, steady rise and fall beneath his arm.
Chris was still asleep.
Not the restless half-sleep he sometimes fell into when his mind refused to let go, but the heavy, unguarded kind. Warm. Boneless again, though this time folded into the sheets instead of a rug, one leg tangled with Dax’s, face turned toward his chest as if he had drifted there by instinct and decided not to leave.
Dax did not move.
He lay on his side, arm curved protectively around Chris’s back, fingers resting flat against skin that was warm and very much alive. The morning light filtered in through the tall windows in pale bands, catching in Chris’s hair, softening his features until even the sharpness he carried when awake was smoothed away.
Dax watched him breathe.
It was a dangerous habit, he knew that. Watching invited attachment; attachment invited loss. And yet he found himself counting breaths anyway, grounding himself in the small, ordinary proof that Chris was here.
After a while Dax shifted just enough to press his mouth to Chris’s temple.
The kiss was light. Barely there. Chris made a quiet sound in response, something halfway between a hum and a protest, and burrowed closer instead of waking. His nose brushed Dax’s collarbone, his hand sliding up to fist lightly in the fabric of Dax’s shirt.
Dax smiled, faint and private.
"Wake up," he murmured, voice low, the words shaped more by breath than sound.
Chris did not.
Dax tried again, this time kissing the corner of Chris’s mouth, slow and patient, lingering just long enough to be felt without pushing. He traced the line of Chris’s jaw with his thumb.
"No," Chris mumbled, eyes still closed. "Too early."
"It isn’t," Dax said mildly.
"It is emotionally early," Chris replied, shifting again, tucking himself more securely against Dax’s chest. "Go away."
Dax did the opposite.
He tightened his arm, pulling Chris closer until there was no space left to argue with, and pressed a series of soft, insistent kisses along his cheek, his nose, and the bridge of it, each one unhurried and unthreatening. He wasn’t a menace now but a sweet lover.
"You are refusing to wake up on principle," Dax observed.
"Yes," Chris said into his shoulder. "I am being oppressed by the morning."
Dax exhaled a quiet laugh and kissed him again, slower this time, mouth warm and familiar. He did not deepen it. Did not ask for more. He simply stayed there, present, as if daring the moment to pass without being acknowledged.
Eventually, Chris sighed, the long, dramatic kind, and cracked one eye open.
"You are clingy," he said, voice rough with sleep.
Dax did not deny it. He brushed his lips over Chris’s again, brief and affectionate. "You are still here."
Chris studied him for a second, the sleep-softened version of his gaze sharp only around the edges, then let his head drop back against Dax’s chest.
"Mm," he said. "That seems like a good reason."
Dax held him there as the morning continued to exist around them, unbothered, and allowed himself to stay more.
—
The phone shattered the quiet.
It buzzed insistently against the bedside table, sharp and out of place in the slow, early-morning stillness Dax had been carefully preserving. Chris made a low, offended sound into Dax’s chest and shifted, one arm tightening reflexively as if he could physically fend the noise off.
Dax felt the change immediately.
Before Chris could fully surface, Dax reached past him and caught the phone, silencing the vibration and answering it on speaker with a single movement.
"Chris," Ethan’s voice came through at once, breathless and tight. "I’m sorry to call this early, but something’s wrong..."
Dax did not move. He only slid his arm more securely around Chris’s middle, anchoring him in place, and kept his voice neutral. "Go on."
There was a half-second pause on the line.
"Who? The king...," the man corrected, uncertain. "Is... is Chris there?"
Chris blinked awake fully at the sound of his name, lifting his head just enough to orient himself. Dax pressed a brief kiss to his temple, a quiet reassurance, and did not release him.
"He’s here," Dax said. "You can speak."
Another pause, then a breath. "Okay. Chris, I’m at your apartment. I had the delegates drop me off like we discussed, but when I got inside..."
"Inside?" Chris repeated, sitting up slightly now. "Ethan, what do you mean inside?"
"The door was unlocked," Ethan said quickly. "I thought maybe you’d forgotten to lock it, but... Chris, the place is wrecked. Drawers pulled out, books taken apart, and the couch cushions cut open. It looks like someone was searching for something specific."
Chris went very still.
Dax’s hand spread flat against his stomach. His eyes had gone sharp and distant, already mapping possibilities.
"Did you touch anything?" Dax asked.
"No," Ethan replied immediately. "I stopped as soon as I realized. I walked back out. I locked the door again, but I didn’t call the police. I didn’t know if..."
"You did the right thing," Dax said calmly. "Leave. Now."
Chris turned his head slightly, looking up at him. "Dax..."
"I’ll explain," Dax murmured, then returned his attention to the phone. "Is anyone else with you?"
"No."
"Good. Go somewhere public. I’ll have someone contact you within the hour."
There was a brief, uneasy silence. "Chris... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to..."
"I know," Chris said, voice steady despite the tension settling into his shoulders. "Thank you for calling."
The line went dead.
—
Chris was fully awake now, the last traces of sleep stripped away by the implications settling in. He pushed himself up on one elbow, brow furrowing as his mind caught up. "I let Ethan stay in the apartment while he was working near the dam," he said quietly. "It wasn’t official. I didn’t think it mattered."
"It does now," Dax replied, but there was no reproach in his voice.
He shifted at last, carefully disentangling just enough to sit up while keeping one arm loosely around Chris’s waist. As he stretched, there was a faint pop from his shoulder, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"I’ve already informed Trevor," Dax continued, reaching for his own phone without urgency. "He’ll send someone to relocate Ethan properly and secure the apartment. Inspection first, then cleanup. No civilians involved."
Chris studied him for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing by degrees. "You didn’t even ask."
Dax glanced down at him, expression calm, eyes steady. "You didn’t need to be asked."
That earned him a soft exhale from Chris, something between relief and resignation. He leaned back into Dax’s side, pressing his forehead briefly against Dax’s chest before straightening again.
"Why now? I always had Ethan over or I stayed with him when work was near our homes." Chris said, not realizing the stillness in Dax.
"You slept with Ethan?"