Gabriel was still trembling, the aftershocks of release running down his spine, when Damian caught his jaw and dragged his mouth back up into another kiss. It was messy this time, Gabriel pliant and dazed, Damian greedy, his tongue claiming every sound Gabriel tried to swallow.

"Not done," Damian whispered against his lips, and Gabriel had just enough strength to laugh, low, wrecked, before his laugh turned into a gasp as Damian tugged his trousers the rest of the way off, discarding them carelessly to the floor.

The air felt too sharp against oversensitive skin, but Damian's weight pressed over him again, pinning, burning. Gabriel spread his legs without hesitation, the white gold of his bracelet glinting as his fingers reached, pushing Damian's towel aside and finding him hard, heavy, already leaking against his thigh. His smile was wicked, even through the haze. "So impatient for someone who preaches control."

Damian growled low in his chest, catching Gabriel's wrist and pinning it above his head, golden eyes molten. "Control doesn't mean denial. It means I decide when to break."

And then he was lining up, slick from the lotion he had already palmed earlier. He pushed forward in one smooth drive that stole Gabriel's breath, burying himself deep until his hips met the inside of Gabriel's thighs.

Gabriel's back arched, a sharp cry cutting through the quiet room, fingers twisting in the sheets. The stretch always burned, but gods, he welcomed it, clung to it, because it was Damian, because it was theirs.

"Look at me," Damian commanded, voice ragged now. Gabriel obeyed, dragging his gaze up, and the sight almost undid Damian. His omega flushed, lips bitten raw, pupils blown wide, already trembling around him.

"Fuck," Damian hissed, and he began to move.

Slow at first, a measured grind that let Gabriel feel every inch, every intentional withdrawal and ruthless push back in, until he was gasping, legs wrapped tight around Damian's waist. The rhythm built, faster, harder, until the bed rocked beneath them, the headboard thudding faintly against the wall.

Gabriel clutched at Damian's shoulders, nails digging crescents into flesh, his voice breaking in half-snarled moans. "Damian… haa… harder…"

Damian gave it to him without mercy, hips snapping, cock driving in deep enough that Gabriel saw white behind his eyes. He reached down between them, stroking Gabriel back to hardness with the same relentless touch that had ruined him minutes before.

The air was heavy with sweat and the faint, sharp tang of their mingled pheromones, Gabriel's slick heat gripping Damian tighter with every thrust, every growled word pressed against his ear. "You're mine. Always mine."

"Yes… fuck… yours," Gabriel choked out, his voice shattering when Damian angled just right, hitting deep enough that his body bowed off the bed, mouth open on a broken cry.

Damian didn't stop until Gabriel was sobbing his release against his throat, body spasming around him, clenching so tight he almost dragged Damian over the edge with him. It only took a few more brutal thrusts before Damian's control snapped, his own orgasm tearing through him as he spilled deep inside, groaning Gabriel's name against his mouth.

They collapsed together, Damian braced on his elbows to keep from crushing him, their breaths rough and mingled, Gabriel's bracelet catching the etherlight as his hand slid weakly along Damian's back.

"Distracted?" Damian murmured, kissing his swollen mouth one last time.

Gabriel let out a broken laugh, too exhausted to argue. "Completely. Bastard."

And Damian only smiled, satisfied, because no noble in the empire could touch him tonight, not when he had this, not when Gabriel was trembling and marked beneath him, undone in a way that belonged to him alone.

—

The cry broke through the early morning quiet. Gabriel stirred beneath the sheets, one hand dragging over his face as he muttered, "Your son."

Damian was already sitting up, the sheets falling away from his bare shoulders. "Our son," he corrected, voice still heavy with sleep but steady as ever. He swung out of bed, tugging a discarded shirt over his head as he crossed the room.

The nannies were quick to part for him when he entered the nursery, bowing their heads in a way that was less about etiquette and more about relief. Arik was red-cheeked in the crib, tiny fists balled tight, mouth open on another wail that only cut off when Damian scooped him up.

"There," Damian murmured, the sound low, steady, and threaded with a command even an infant seemed to recognize. Arik hiccupped against his chest, shuddered once, and quieted, still whimpering but no longer fighting the world.

By the time Damian returned to their chambers, Gabriel had pushed himself upright against the headboard, hair rumpled, eyes narrowed against the morning light but watchful. Damian placed their son in Gabriel's arms with a precision that looked almost reverent.

"He is as demanding as his father," Gabriel said, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake up, though the small, warm weight now resting against his chest did more than any coffee could.

Damian, still standing beside the bed, arched a brow as he rolled his sleeves past his forearms. "If by that you mean he knows exactly what he wants and won't tolerate delay, then yes. He is exactly like me."

Arik's tiny hand caught at Gabriel's shirt, fingers curling stubbornly in the fabric. Gabriel glanced down at him, soft despite his words. "I was hoping he'd inherit some of my patience."

Damian sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning in to press a kiss first to Gabriel's temple, then briefly against the crown of his son's dark hair. "Patience?" he murmured, amusement tugging at his mouth. "You nearly executed half the nobility in your head yesterday because they wasted your afternoon with irrelevant petitions."

Gabriel shot him a look, dry as ever. "That was discipline. Not impatience. You do execute nobles when they piss you off."

Damian's mouth curved, unrepentant. "Difference is, I actually follow through."

Gabriel huffed a laugh, soft but sharp. "And I thought I was supposed to be the cruel one."

"You are," Damian said easily, brushing his knuckles along Arik's back until the baby sighed in his sleep. "You just disguise it with polite phrasing and reports that cut cleaner than a blade."

Gabriel gave him a long look. "Don't pretend. Your writing is disgustingly elegant. It took me longer than I care to admit to stop resenting you for it."

Damian's smirk deepened, lazy and amused. "I knew you noticed."

"Noticed?" Gabriel scoffed, adjusting Arik's blanket. "Half my early files looked like trash next to yours. I rewrote entire sections so they wouldn't look like the ramblings of some intern beside the Emperor's perfect ether-stamped signature."

"That's why I married you," Damian said, golden eyes catching the soft glow of the ether lamps, warm but merciless. "So history would remember you as the one who made even the Emperor's records look sharper."

Gabriel's lips twitched, conceding the point with silence more than agreement. The quiet stretched between them, filled with the soft rhythm of Arik's breathing and the low hum of the warded conduits in the walls. Then Damian leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Gabriel's temple before speaking low, his words heavier now.

"You mock me now, but every screen in the empire is waiting for you. You've carried their suspicion, their envy, their praise and not once have you faltered. Tell me…" His hand brushed Gabriel's wrist, calming him like the steady pulse of ether through the palace lines. "Are you ready to be Empress?"