Rowan brought Syryn to a house he was renting from an old couple. It was situated on the couple's farm where they bred horses for a living. The anti mage had taken to staying here because it afforded him a hideaway from all the well-meaning visitors, the boot lickers, and the matchmakers who had no respect at all for his privacy.

It was on their way to this area that Syryn had transformed. Luckily, their fight had gone down in a wooded area next to the equine farm. Syryn hadn't been subdued easily but when had he ever been easy to deal with? The anti mage had struggled to restrain the teen without hurting him and it had cost him a few injuries in return. Rowan was left with a broken collar bone, an angry bruise on his jaw, and a long bloody gash up the side of his thigh where Syryn had gouged out a chunk of meat with his claws.

"I'm so sorry, Rowan.."

A contrite Syryn surveyed the injuries on the blond when they were safely inside the latter's living quarters. The anti mage was seated on a chair with his pants off and a lump of ice wrapped in silk placed on his collarbone. Next to him, Syryn knelt on the floor to better examine the sliced up flesh on the exposed thigh.

"Am I going to catch a demonic infection?" Rowan attempted to lighten the mood. The gloom radiating from his alchemist was thick enough to suffocate a newborn baby.

"Crotch demon from that shitty mage and his mouth," Syryn muttered darkly.

"What did you say?"

"Rowan, why couldn't you just knock me out or use more force? I can't believe you let me do this to you." Syryn was torn between frustration towards himself for losing control and anger at Rowan for not putting his own well being first.

"I'm not dying, Ryn. This is nothing."

"Then let me cut off your arm. You won't die from it either," Syryn replied while rolling his eyes. "I'm a half-blooded demon. Have you forgotten? Must I remind you of it by slaughtering a few humans tonight?"

"Why are you so mad? I'm perfectly content with superficial injuries if the tradeoff is having to subdue your demon without hurting you." He sounded like a patient father, not that Syryn had any experience being fathered, but that's what he imagined a long-suffering parent would sound like.

Syryn's reply was restrained. "This isn't superficial. When was the last time you were hurt like this?" He looked up at the happy anti mage.

"I don't remember, Ryn." He looked far too happy for a man who was about to get stitched up.

Syryn began working on cleaning the wound so he could sew up the areas that still had enough skin for it. The gouged out parts of the thigh had to be treated with special medicine that would facilitate faster growth of tissues. Syryn could not heal the wound fully and immediately lest it cause damage to Rowan's vitality. Rapid healing was good for cuts and dermal level injuries that did not require much energy from the body. Rowan's thigh though was missing chunks of meat and still bleeding. To force his body into growing that much tissue without the aid of time was just asking for trouble.

"I won't let it happen again," Syryn told Rowan. It was high time he had a conversation with Red. The younger one never lost control and Syryn needed to do what he was doing. Skirting at the edge of insanity was no longer a viable option for Syryn. He had assumed that the demon could be controlled but tonight's experience had proved him wrong.

"And if it does?"

"I'll rely on you to knock me senseless."

Syryn had an idea. It would require extremely concentrated amounts of Liberem and the venom of at least a thousand marble spiders. The result would be potent enough to put his demon in a stupor for at least a few seconds at the very least. He liked the idea very much.

"Why did you come back, Ro? You told me that you'd return after four years."

Rowan's eyes tracked the gentle movements of Syryn's fingers on his wound. Each knuckle was gracefully arched and led to long tapering fingers that tempted the anti mage to kiss them - one cute finger pad at a time. He idly wondered about when it was that his fixation with Syryn's hands had begun.

"Sebastian sent me a message about an emergency that required my skills. He said it was a matter of life and death."

Syryn snorted. "Tell me it wasn't about you playing Night King."

"No," Rowan chuckled. "I was conned into it by him but that's not what my return was for. He said it was about catching an absconding magical squid."

"Smart," Syryn admitted. "You can probably track it when it goes into walls."

"Is that what it does?" Rowan asked while checking on the ice that had melted into water. Syryn froze it back for the anti mage.

"Yes. Sebastian hasn't told you about it then?"

Rowan shook his head, long blonde hair getting into his eyes. He pushed it back realising that a haircut was due. "I was extorted into the Night King's suit the very evening I reached Elysium. After that, you know the rest of it. He at least had the foresight to let me know ahead that you weren't really engaged."

Syryn smiled wryly at that. "He's as much of a troublemaker as I am. I'm inclined to believe that Artemus has a specific type."

"I'll thank Sebastian for taking Artemus off your hands then," Rowan flatly replied.

"Should I ask him to take Rhiya off of yours too?" Syryn raised his chin to face the anti mage. He wasn't sure what gave him the right to bring it up. The betting pool was still a sore spot after all. 

"He told you about her." Rowan looked away nervously and that tiny action fired up Syryn's temper. He reminded himself of the meaning of hypocrisy. And what was an unknown Rhiya when Rowan had been married to Lillith?

"Ryn, there was nothing between Rhiya and I."

"Good for you." Syryn threw away a bloody towel into the metal basin near his foot. It was a dose of his own medicine and Syryn hated it.

"No really, it was her that climbed into my bed when I was asleep." That wasn't something that Sebastian had told him. Syryn took deep calming breaths, counting them in his mind as Artemus had taught him to. Sebastian had also slept in his bed, see? It was fine, he told himself.

"It's alright, Ro. You don't have to explain."

"It's not alright," Rowan replied. "I threw her out and nothing ever happened between us." The anti mage knew that the smallest grain of sand could fester a wound if left to its own devices. His petty demon lord was the pettiest of them all and it never took much to trigger them both if Syryn decided he was going to be a brat about something. That was a lesson they learnt together in his last life.

"Are you guilty about something?" Syryn raised his brows at the man who was acting suspicious. Why couldn't Rowan let it be when Syryn was trying so hard to be understanding?

"Not really," Rowan carefully chose his words. "I don't want to have you hear this from other people so- well, she was naked when she climbed my bed." The anti mage had a wary look in his eyes like he was expecting a demon lord to start throwing hands. 

The demon lord tilted his head in confusion. "Why would you feel guilty about it when you never did anything to get the said naked woman in your bed?"

Rowan appeared confused too but for a different reason. "You aren't mad about it?"

Syryn stared back when he understood what the source of the blond's confusion was. "Just how petty do you think I am, Rowan?" He was severely offended by the incorrect assumptions about his maturity.

"A little bit," the anti mage honestly replied.

"When have I ever been anything but understanding about your faults? You were my captor for nearly twenty years and I haven't already poisoned you to death now, have I? I am magnanimous."

Rowan was staring at the wood flooring, thinking hard about how to say it without hurting Syryn's feelings. He cleared his throat and faced the self-righteous teenager.

"Do you remember the raging tantrum you threw when the glass stylus you wanted was, for no fault of mine, broken on the way to the tower? You were so mad about it that you used the shattered stylus to write terrible poetry, with holes stabbed in the parchment, which you then proceeded to fling out of the tower window and at the guards. All in all, I counted 58 poems about how Rowan has a tiny-"

"Stop!" Syryn exclaimed. "I get it. That was just one time."

"Are you sure about that?" Rowan's mirth was visible in the curve of his lips which he tried hard to hide behind the palm where he rested his chin. Syryn thought about how those beautiful lips had kissed him not too long ago.

He silently fumed after that and so Rowan had to fill in the silence. "I didn't sleep with her, Ryn. This lifetime, I'm only yours."

Syryn wanted to be selfish. To believe it. What if he stole Rowan from Lillith this time around? From Eos? From the people that Rowan was destined to save? It was all moving a little too fast for Syryn. He had gotten his wish to have Rowan but at what cost?

"And you still refuse to sleep with me," he grumbled instead, a diversion tactic to steer the conversation away from feelings.

"You are impatient," Rowan observed good-naturedly, "Not that I'm complaining."

Sebastian had already accused Syryn of desperation not long ago and now Rowan's words reinforced the accusation. It hit a sensitive nerve. Out of his mouth came a rant that Syryn had been holding inside for so long.

"Rowan Windwalker," Syryn rose to his feet, "do you know what it's like to be celibate for two lifetimes? Do you?! It's a big deal to me! I died a virgin! You, on the other hand, were having a lot of nice married sex with Lillith! All kinds of sex! while I was languishing in the tower with my hand so I don't expect you to understand what it's like to be me but you need to know that everyone has their limits and I've reached mine!" He let it all out in one breath. Syryn regretted it immediately but there was no taking back the shameful confession.

How did he manage to inform Rowan of his complete lack of experience while simultaneously letting him know that he masturbated when Rowan wasn't around?

A deep red blush crept up Syryn's neck and he impulsively kicked the basin at his foot with so much vigour that it smashed a hole into an unlucky wall. Rowan stared at his actions with wide eyes and Syryn hoped for a void to open right under his feet.

"Ryn, no, don't leave!" Rowan was desperately holding in his laughter. "You're not done with my wound." And that brought the teen to a halt at the door. He turned right back around and began working on Rowan's injury like nothing had happened.

"Don't say a word," Syryn hissed at the anti mage.

"But-"

"Not a word, Rowan!"

"You told me you had many lovers," Rowan said with a straight face. "I remember asking if someone you loved was waiting beyond the walls of your prison and you said-" Syryn had gone on to tell Rowan that he had many lovers - many, too many to count- waiting for him because he was that good in bed. It had been nothing but an idle virgin demon lord's boasting to save face.

"If you insist on reminiscing," Syryn spat the word out viciously, "I will walk out right now and go to a whorehouse."

Rowan was also done embarrassing Syryn. It had been a staple of their interactions in the tower. Rowan would make fun of something Syryn did and the alchemist would, in turn, taunt him back. Back and forth they'd trade insults till one of them lost their temper. It almost always was Syryn that lost.

"There's no need for threats, Ryn. A whorehouse can't give you what you want."

"Well if you won't give it to me then I'll have to look elsewhere, won't I?" Syryn snapped back at the anti mage. He was kneeling between Rowan's thighs and staring up into blue eyes that were locked onto the nervous way Syryn licked his lips. It was a wet, plump mouth just begging for something to fill it. Rowan bit down a groan at the imagery that abruptly assaulted his mind.

"Syryn, please, don't kneel between my legs like this," he begged. 

"Or what?" The alchemist challenged. He had an inkling as to what was getting Rowan all hot and bothered.