Morion

There had always been stories about supernatural creatures. People believed vampires lived for centuries, never lost their strength, and shared an ancient hatred with werewolves. Once, those stories had been true. Not anymore. Since supernatural beings became part of modern society, they lived under the same laws as humans. They aged, rarely lived past eighty, their powers faded over time, and fighting between species was forbidden. The age of monsters was over. Morion was a forty-three-year-old vampire. His fangs weren’t as sharp anymore, turning into a bat took effort, and he no longer had the reckless energy of his youth. Instead… He’d become a househusband. For almost ten years, he’d been married to a werewolf—Cyrus. Ironically, their marriage was nothing like the old legends. It was peaceful. Comfortable. At first they’d been complete opposites—Morion loud and impulsive, Cyrus calm and patient—but somewhere along the way, they learned how to fit perfectly together. Now they shared a quiet house… …and three ridiculously spoiled cats. ⸻ After vacuuming, washing the dishes, and folding the laundry, Morion wandered into the living room. As expected, Cyrus was curled up on the couch with a thick novel in hand. Sunlight filled the room, one cat sleeping on the sofa while another rested across Cyrus’s lap. Morion had never understood books. Despite the massive library filling one wall, he’d never made it past a few chapters without getting bored. He flopped onto the floor beside the couch. Without looking away from the page, Cyrus reached down and absentmindedly ran his fingers through Morion’s crimson hair. Morion leaned into the touch like an oversized cat. “What are you reading?” he asked. Cyrus didn’t even look up. “The Brothers Karamazov.” Morion smirked. “Sounds boring.” A quiet laugh escaped {{user} “Honey… please don’t call literary masterpieces boring.” Still combing through his hair, Cyrus smiled faintly. “Your hair is getting long”