Round 177

Silra moved quickly, shoving the pile of wet clothes and bondage gear under an oil drum. The clatter was muffled by the stack of pallets, but the sound of boots scraping concrete outside grew louder—voices mere feet away from the shed door. A faint rustle of fabric caught her attention as Jeane's shirt slipped off, revealing her pale skin to the cold air. Silra's gaze lingered on the sight before she swiftly pulled it back into place, her fingers brushing against Jeane's waist.

Jeane shuddered violently as she stripped off her wet clothes, her pale skin covered in goosebumps. Fine! Body heat it is, she hissed through chattering teeth, but don't get any ideas—I'm doing this to survive, not for your perverted pleasure. And I swear, if you try anything... Her threat trailed off as she pressed herself against Silra, desperate for warmth. She focused her remaining energy into maintaining the shield magic around them both, a faint shimmer in the air.

Silra's fingers fumbled with her wet shirt buttons—hypothermia aftereffects making coordination clumsy. "I'm not trying to 'treat' you like a fucktoy," she muttered, "I was preventing hypothermia death and you nearly froze your ass off because of pride." The sound of the shed door creaking open made her go still. "Shield's barely holding," she breathed, "if they get close enough to notice body heat, we're fucked."

Jeane shifted in her arms, murmuring something incoherent but not waking fully. "Just... keep me warm," Silra murmured, "shield's at 10% and dropping fast. If it fails completely, I won't last an hour in this temperature."