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The sunshine streaming through the window catches on Eva's hair. The gold reflects and glows, casting her a halo more precious than any jewel he could ever steal.
All the more precious for the fact that it is freely given.
He can't believe it most days that she chooses to be with him. That she chooses a life of lairs and danger, hiding and fleeing over the life of leisure and relaxing he stole her from all those years ago.
He might be a thief but it was her who stole his breath, his soul and his heart all at once. Il vero più grande colpo.
Her chest rises and falls with her breathing, a soft content smile on her graceful lips, like even asleep she can feel his gaze on her. It is well into the morning, he's already had breakfast, worked out and got a mask done. Eva has slept. And in between tasks, Diabolik has slithered into their bedroom to steal glances of her. He just needed to make sure she was okay.
She shuffles in her sleep, getting comfortable and her nightgown rises up her hip, baring satin and creamy skin.
His mouth runs dry and he stares, transfixed. His fingers itch to trace the line of her hipbone, dip into the waistband and tug. He could wake her up with his head between her legs, have her first word of the day be his name in the shape of a moan.
She would definitely not complain.
Before he can, however, her hand twitches and a frown pinches her relaxed features. Her mouth falls open on a silent no, whole body going tense in a fraction of a second.
He leans forward on instinct, wondering if he should wake her up from this nightmare. Even in her dreams he wishes he could keep her safe from harm.
Before he can reach a decision, Eva sighs and relaxes, body going soft as the nightmare passes.
He watches her eyes move behind her eyelids and tries to guess what she's seeing. Even after years there are many things he doesn't know about her. Is she dreaming of him? Of her past?
Diabolik never dreams. Eva says he does but just doesn't remember. She's spent many hours entertaining herself with fanciful outlandish scenarios he could have dreamed about. He rather thinks there is nothing to dream about when he already has everything he wants and needs right before him, teasing him about Ginko riding an elephant.
The problem with a life being a dream is that it’s so easy for it to turn into a nightmare.
Unbidden, he remembers the way the gun pressed on her hair over her temple, the man’s thick arm barring her neck and the cold edge of terror cutting into his heart. A single glance had been enough for Eva to understand his plan, but the fear clung to him like lead cobwebs.
The dagger he stuck into the man’s heart was a pale reflection of the way his own chest had felt cut open when he realized Eva was in danger. All his focus had narrowed down to that single priority goal. There were no more jewels, no more Ginko, no more himself, only Eva and making sure she was okay.
Now Eva sleeps on, unaware of the man willing to cut himself open just to keep her dreaming.
She holds his heart in her grip. She could work her hand into his ribcage and take it out if she wanted to. He wouldn't stop her. He would hand her the dagger.
He is the king of terror only because he knows it intimately. Him and the cold hand of terror that grips his heart when Eva is in danger are long time acquaintances.
He stares at her and his whole world narrows. There is nothing else when she is in his arms. No heist, no jewel, no trick and no accolades are worth more than her eyes on his and her laughter in his ear. No plan is as satisfying as making her laugh, no jewel is worth more than the sight of her arched back, overcome with pleasure at his hands.
Life before Eva is not worth thinking about. So he doesn’t. She is everything. All he does, all he steals, all he lives for is her. Her hands around him, her body pressed close, her laughter and her smiles, her hair, her mouth. He wishes nothing more than to love her.
He will never understand how the universe favored him so that she does as well.
A glance at the clock tells him he’s running out of time. In an hour, his mark will leave his house like every other day and he must intersect him on the alley to kill and replace him.
However, if he were to leave without telling her, he would come back home to a very cold bed tonight.
Diabolik leans forward and tucks his head on the curve of her neck. Eva twitches at the phantom contact and he can't stop the smile that curls his lips more than he can stop the sun from rising.
"Tesoro," he greets her, making sure she can feel the word on her neck.
"Hmm no," Eva grumbles and burrows into the bed, gathering the pillows and more blankets in her arms. Diabolik chuckles and caresses the line of her neck with his nose. From this close he can smell her and the sweaty remnants of their late night activities. He takes a deep lungful and a heat that’s never truly doused kindles in his gut.
"Eva mia, è tardi," he reminds her and kisses her shoulder softly.
"No, vattene!" Eva insists and hugs her pillow closer. "Voglio dormire," she tells the fabric, words muffled and petulant.
Unruffled, Diabolik trails a finger up her arm and moves her hair out of the way of his trails of kisses. He leans into her and noses her ear again as he circles her waist with his arm.
"Eva cara, svegliati, devo partire. Non mi lascerai andare senza un bacio, no?"
He can feel the way Eva goes still on his arms, across her cheekbone, her lashes flutter as she cracks one eye open. He hides his grin into her skin.
"Così presto?" she asks, voice thick and hesitant.
"È mezzogiorno passato, amore,” he informs her.
He has to lean back to make room for her to turn around, tangled in the sheets as she is. Once settled, she blinks her emerald green eyes at him. Now lit by the golden sun, they sparkle with laughter. She’s resplendent and he falls even more in love with her.
"Troppo presto," she quips, her lips already in a bow.
If he could, he would stay right here for the rest of the day. If she insisted more she would get her way in a second and they'd laze off the day in bed with nothing to do but each other. She blinks and her lashes fan the embers simmering in his gut.
Unable to resist, he closes the distance between them and kisses her. Her arms go around his neck and he brings her body close, both cursing and grateful for the covers between them. If he had her body pressed directly to his he would never leave.
Her hair is hot in his palms, golden strands warmed by the sun. Her sharp nails card through his scalp, bringing shivers all over his spine, his back and the fresh marks marrying it. Eva opens her mouth and Diabolik licks into it, swallowing down their moans.
There will never come a day when her touch doesn’t render him desperate; there will not come a day he doesn’t want her. There will not come a day when they have enough of each other.
Eva pulls away just as Diabolik’s made the decision to press her into the bed and leave the start of this heist for tomorrow.
"Tornerai presto?" she asks, a pout bringing out her bottom lip. He can't resist it (she knows) so she kisses her.
"Stasera," he promises.
"Ti aspetterò," she swears.
He knows they're both already counting down the seconds.