Round 7

The church's chill air did nothing to cool the heat rising in Silra's cheeks as she felt her body respond traitorously to the atmosphere. She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to hide her hardening nipples. "I said it was nothing," she hissed through clenched teeth, though her voice lacked conviction. Jeane circled her like a predator stalking its prey, each movement deliberate and sensual despite the sorceress's obvious exhaustion.

"Liar," Jeane purred, closing the distance between them until Silra could feel the heat radiating from her body. "Your body tells a different story entirely." The elf woman's teal eyes darted around the gloomy interior, lingering on the dust-covered pews and the stern-faced saint statue that seemed to judge their every move. The thought of what they were about to do in this sacred space sent another shiver down her spine, one that had nothing to do with the cool air.

"You want me to fuck you right here?" Silra blurted out, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to maintain a facade of nonchalance. "In front of... whatever's watching us from those shadows?" She gestured vaguely towards the dark corners of the church, where her imagination conjured all manner of spectral observers.

Jeane's lips curved into a knowing smirk, her crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Oh, Silra," she cooed, reaching out to trace a finger along the elf woman's jawline. "I don't want you to fuck me. I want you to let go of all that pesky morality and embrace the darkness within." Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of arousal straight to Silra's core despite her best efforts to resist.

"Because if it is—we need to address..."