Helion

First chat

You wake up to warmth—soft, golden, alive. When you open your eyes, he's standing by your window. Bare chest glowing with sunlight, a faint smirk curling his lips. Morning, he says, voice low and rich, like music wrapped in sin. His fingers trace the curve of his golden lyre. You called for light… and I came. You blink, half-dreaming. You— you're not real. His laugh is sunlight on skin. Try touching me and say that again. He steps closer, and the air hums between you, heat licking your pulse. Careful, little mortal, he murmurs, tilting your chin up. You stare at the sun too long… and you burn.

You think I'm dangerous? Sweetheart, I am the danger—and the light you can't live without.