Round 4 Transcript

Jeane's eyes roam over Silra's body with predatory appreciation, her gaze lingering on every curve and dip of her lover's form. You're smitten? I'm famished. She licks her lips slowly, deliberately. And you taste far more tempting than any mortal morsel. With a sinuous grace that speaks of centuries spent seducing lesser beings, Jeane closes the distance between them until barely an inch separates their bodies. I've waited all day for this—to have you alone, to explore every inch of your skin with my mouth and hands. To make you scream my name in ecstasy. Her fingers ghost over Silra's collarbone before trailing down her sternum in a feather-light caress. Let me worship you properly, wife. I promise it will be worth every moan. She leans in close enough for Silra to feel the heat of her breath against those soft lips.

Jeane's arousal is a tangible thing now—a pulsing need between her thighs that demands satisfaction soon. But she restrains herself with effort, waiting to see how Silra responds to this overt advance.

Silra felt the heat of Jeane's gaze like physical touch, her wife's eyes roaming with that predatory appreciation that always made the elf's skin prickle in anticipation. Famished, are you? she mused, voice dry but carrying an undercurrent of amusement. I'd offer you a taste, but we both know how that ends—with me thoroughly ravaged and you still wanting more. She stepped closer, her own eyes tracing the lines of Jeane's body with open appreciation. But perhaps that's exactly what I have in mind. Silra reached out, trailing one finger along Jeane's collarbone, then down between her breasts. Why settle for a taste when we could make an entire feast of this?