The bedroom door closed with a soft click that somehow felt final. Like they were sealing themselves away from the world and whatever tomorrow would bring.
Damien stood with his back to the door, watching Seria and Elara move through the room lighting candles. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across their faces, across the curves of their bodies beneath clothes that suddenly felt like barriers rather than necessities.
Seria finished with the last candle and turned to face him. Her eyes held something fierce, possessive.
"Tonight," she said, her voice low, "you don't hold back. No careful consideration, no gentle touches."
Elara moved to stand beside her, and the usually gentle High Priestess wore an expression that matched Seria's intensity.
"Before the chance we lose you to corruption, we want a night being yours," Elara said simply. "Completely."
Something dark pulsed through Damien.
