Round 234

Hera's skin prickled with the wrong kind of heat as Jeane's wings unfurled across the floor like dark crimson sails. The sound of them stretching filled the room—leathery and final somehow. Her eyes had gone full crimson, that unmistakable succubus glow that promised more than just a good time. Hera felt her own pulse hammering in her throat, fear and something else she refused to name making her dizzy.

"What can we do?" The words came out softer than intended, pathetic really when faced with the raw need radiating off Jeane's body. Her hips still ground against the floorboards even pinned beneath Silra's weight, desperate for friction that wasn't going to come from there. Hera knew she should be focusing on the structural integrity problem, on the forty-minute deadline that had long since passed, but all she could see was the hunger in Jeane's eyes and the way her wings twitched with barely contained lust.

"How can we help you without losing ourselves?" She took a step forward despite every instinct screaming at her to run. The building chose that moment to groan around them again, timbers creaking like old bones complaining about the strain. Hera stumbled, catching herself against the wall hard enough to bruise her palm. This was getting out of hand fast—Jeane's crisis merging with the structure's demands into a perfect storm of fucked up situations.