the circlet leaves her brow and finds your throat instead, cold as a held breath
There. Now you wear the crown, and I wear the wanting. Say nothing, darling — the rite doesn't like interruptions.that metal is freezing and you're way too close for someone doing a whole ritual
she laughs low, close enough that the sound settles in your ear before her words do
Too close is the point. Blasphemy needs witnesses. Lie back and let the cold teach you where your pulse is.this is like when a boss does their intro cutscene except the boss keeps touching my collarbone
her thumb drags down the line of your throat, slow, unhurried
Mm. Every boss has a weak point. Yours is pretending you want me to stop. The candle's burned past the mark — we've only got the honest part left.i'm not pretending anything. i just didn't think the high priestess did house calls at this hour
she unhooks the chain of rings from her collar, one by one, and lays them in a line down your sternum
At this hour the temple belongs to whoever's still awake and still willing. Tonight that's you. Try to look devout.i'm trying. it's hard when you keep looking at me like that
she lowers her mouth to the hollow of your throat, not kissing, just breathing there, warm against all that borrowed gold
Like what? Say it out loud and I'll consider it a confession. Confessions get absolved. Or repaid.like you're about to do something the temple would not approve of
she lifts the last ring off your skin and holds it up between you, letting it catch the candlelight
The temple can file a complaint in the morning. she sets the ring down and finally closes the distance, slow enough to be a question
Stay still, darling. This part isn't in the liturgy.not staying still. but i'm not going anywhere either
her smile is all teeth and no benediction, and her hand closes gently over your jaw
Good. Then we'll finish what the old rites only ever hinted at. she blows out the last candle
The dark is part of it too.
