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SCENE 1

Dareth stood near the viewing rail, posture relaxed but immobile. Beside him, Kaelen leaned with practiced weight on folded arms, watching with the disinterest of someone who'd stood in that ring too many times to be impressed easily. On Kaelen's far side, Selene stood with her arms crossed, gaze fixed on the fighters below. The three of them watched in companionable silence.

The match was a junior-tier exhibition--afternoon filler, not something Dareth would usually attend. But he'd heard one of the names spoken with consistent praise, so he decided to check for himself. The others had followed out of habit more than interest--nothing better to do, and no reason not to linger beside him.

"You took him, then," Kaelen said, eyes never leaving the ring.

Dareth didn't ask who.

Kaelen exhaled, almost a laugh. "He's two tiers back, trying not to stare at us."

Selene's voice came dry. "He's failing."

Dareth's gaze stayed forward. "It's not official yet."

Kaelen's mouth tugged sideways in amusement. He glanced at Selene. "So that's a yes."

Selene didn't respond, didn't look away, but the slight curve at her lips matched Kaelen's.

Below, one of the fighters overcommitted on a strike and stumbled. Kaelen made a quiet sound of disapproval.

"Sloppy," he muttered.

Dareth gave him a glance--mild, not quite a rebuke, but edged enough to suggest he found the commentary unnecessary.

"Rushed," Selene corrected, her tone even, measured. "His feet were ahead of his center."

The fight continued--tentative footwork, a brief exchange of strikes, then another reset.

After a pause, Kaelen resumed, dryly. "Did you meet the boy's mother?"

"Yes," Dareth said, guarded.

Kaelen's smirk was slow. "Quite something, isn't she?"

Selene lifted her chin. "She didn't seem remarkable to me."

Kaelen turned his head, intrigued. "You met her?"

"Briefly. At sign-ins," Selene replied, still watching the ring.

"She already has a son," Dareth added, frowning slightly. "Doesn't that make her unavailable?"

Kaelen shrugged. "Technically, she's a widow."

"Technically?" Selene asked, her voice cool.

Kaelen leaned back, expression amused. "Hard to call it mourning when she toasted his passing."

Dareth said nothing, but his posture shifted--just a fraction.

Selene's tone sharpened. "Sounds like a winner."

A brief silence passed. Selene's mouth had tightened by half a line--subtle, but there.

Kaelen glanced over at her. "Did you know she was my instructor? Mine and Dareth's, wasn't she?" He turned slightly toward Dareth, fishing for confirmation.

Dareth stayed silent--noncommittal, unreadable.

"When we moved into staff command," Kaelen went on, gaze drifting back to the ring. "She was new to the post then."

He paused, then added, voice lighter than it needed to be, "Hasn't changed much, I have to say."

Selene moved--too smoothly. "I just remembered. I have another engagement," she said, brushing a nonexistent crease from her cuff. "It's late."

Dareth glanced at her, then back to the ring. "Alright."

Kaelen blinked. "You're leaving?"

She was already nearly out of earshot when he called, "We're still meeting later, right? At the tea house?"

She half-turned, not quite looking at either of them. "Sure."

Then she was gone. Steps quick, posture composed.

Kaelen watched her retreat, then turned back to Dareth. "What is wrong with your wife, my friend?"

Dareth kept his eyes on the fight for one more beat, then looked at him. "What is wrong with you?"

Below, the match came to a close--an uninspired finish. Nothing clean, nothing bold. The fighter Dareth had come to watch was average. Polished, obedient. But forgettable.

Dareth's mouth thinned. "That was a waste of a walk."

They turned from the railing and made the quiet trek back toward the main hall in silence.

SCENE 2

The alcove was private, its golden light pooling across thick mats and layered cushions. Outside, music drifted faintly through the screens--a plucked string instrument, someone's voice rising and falling like a tide.

They gathered around the low central table with easy informality. Selene sat with her knees tucked beneath her, tunic loose, one shoulder bared where the fabric had slipped. Kaelen lounged to her left in a half-recline, propped against a mound of pillows. Dareth remained upright to her right, cross-legged and composed.

Dareth poured the last of the tea, the pot still warm in his hands. He didn't ask--he never had to. He knew how Selene liked hers. Knew Kaelen would pretend not to care, then grumble if his cup wasn't full.

"Tell me again," Kaelen said, arm slung over a cushion behind him, "why I agreed to that sparring demonstration? My ribs may never recover."

Dareth smiled into his cup. "Because you claimed it would be good for morale."

"I meant their morale," Kaelen muttered. "Not mine."

Dareth snorted. "You were showing off. You got exactly what you deserved."

Kaelen pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "You wound me."

"To me," Selene said dryly, reaching for a piece of grilled fruit, "it appears you wounded yourself."

Laughter rippled between them--easy, familiar, threaded with warmth.

Selene tilted her head. "When did this demonstration happen?"

Kaelen shot her a look of mock indignation. "After you abandoned us to our own decisions. That was reckless. We're hopeless without you."

Dareth interjected, half teasing, half serious. "Speak for yourself."

"My mistake," Selene said sweetly. "Next time you start talking about how other women are beautiful, I'll just nod along and go straight to the clan elders to schedule you both a date."

Kaelen went quiet for a beat. Then, more softly: "I didn't say beautiful. I said she was... quite something."

Selene looked at him then. Something flickered in her eyes--quiet, restrained. Not quite anger, but the shadow of it. A heat that hadn't decided whether to smolder or ignite.

Kaelen shifted closer, slow and careful. He leaned in on one elbow and brushed a kiss to her bare shoulder. A soft press of lips. A wordless, half-formed apology.

She didn't look at him. But she didn't pull away, either.

Dareth remained still, silent. Not detached--focused. He knew the rhythm of their storms: the sharp edges, the slow surrenders, the way they circled until something gave.

Encouraged by her silence, Kaelen kissed her again, this time lower, following the curve of her collarbone. He eased her tunic down, baring the sleek line of muscle beneath skin built for control.

Her breasts were small and firm, her nipples already beginning to tighten in the cooler air. Kaelen glanced up once, as if to check.

There was no resistance.

He leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. His touch was light, reverent. A moan slipped from Selene--low, husky, unbidden. Her body shifted toward him, heat stirring under her skin, need beginning to rise.

Her hand found his shoulder, steadying herself. She hadn't meant to forgive him. Not yet. But the moment was already slipping away from her control.

SCENE 3

The room was warm, dimly lit as before, but the air had thickened--no longer casual, no longer light.

Selene knelt between Kaelen's legs on the soft mat, completely bare, the lantern's light gliding over her skin like a lover's touch. Kaelen, still mostly dressed, was reclining among the pillows, his gaze steady and unblinking, stripping her more thoroughly than any hands could.

His robe had fallen open, revealing the smooth plane of his chest. His pants were loose, fabric pushed aside to expose the thick, flushed length of his cock--already hard, already glistening at the tip. Her fingers curled around the base with calm precision, her strokes slow, deliberate. Teasing.

After a few languid passes, she leaned in, nuzzling the heat of him, breathing him in. The scent always stirred something in her. Always made her mouth water.

Without hesitation, she parted her lips and took him in.

Kaelen groaned, low and rough, hips tensing beneath her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she moved--slow, deep pulls of her mouth, unhurried but certain. Her lips glided down, tongue tracing the sensitive underside, savoring the weight and warmth of him.

Kaelen's eyes darkened. One of his hands found her hair, fingers threading through it--not to guide, not to demand, but simply to be there.

Behind her, Dareth stirred. He had remained still until now, watching in quiet focus.

Leisurely, he began to undress--sliding each layer off with calm precision, his gaze never leaving her. When he moved, it was with purpose. He pushed the low table aside, clearing space, then knelt behind her, pressing his body flush to her back. Skin to skin. Already hard. Already aching for her.

She paused when she felt him--his length gliding along the curve of her spine, hot and slick. A shiver rippled through her.

Then his lips found the space between her shoulders. A kiss soft as breath, almost reverent. His hands came to her hips, guiding her into place.

He entered her slowly--deliberately--easing in inch by inch until the stretch was exquisite.

Selene moaned, the sound low, raw with sensation, as she opened for Dareth's steady, claiming thrust.

Kaelen's fingertips skimmed the crown of her head--a silent gesture of affection. Encouragement. A quiet reminder: he was still there, while giving her the space to choose her own rhythm. Her own pleasure.

She looked up at him briefly, eyes meeting his, then lowered her head again--lips parting, tongue reacquainting itself with the heat of him. She resumed her earlier pace: confident, unhurried, devoted.

Behind her, Dareth groaned softly. His hands held her steady, as his hips began to move. Each thrust was patient, deliberate--press, pause, withdraw--measured to make her feel every inch.

She whimpered between them, the sound soft and helpless.

From time to time, Dareth adjusted--subtle shifts in angle, slight changes in pace. Each one coaxed a new sound from her, a fresh catch of breath. She moved with him instinctively--meeting him, matching him, welcoming him deeper with every stroke.

She took Kaelen deeper now, her throat tightening around him, lips stretched wide to accommodate the thick weight of him. Her tongue swept along the base, and she moaned--low, wanton--the vibration pulsing through him like a shock.

Kaelen hissed through his teeth, hips jerking in response. The sound that left him was torn from somewhere deep. His hand clenched in her hair, anchoring himself as his breath stuttered, uneven.

For a while, they moved like that--bodies linked, breath mingled, pleasure building in slow, measured waves.

Then--Dareth shifted.

Just a slight change of angle, but it tore a gasp from her lips. Pleasure flared, sharp and sudden, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. She rocked back instinctively, chasing the sensation, the promise of more.

Dareth pressed in, his chest a steady heat against her back. One hand slid along her side--slow, searching--until it found her breast. His thumb moved in lazy, deliberate spirals around her nipple, coaxing it to a tight, aching peak.

Selene arched into the touch, a gasp breaking free as her hold on Kaelen faltered. The next thrust landed deep, wringing a louder, hungrier moan from her throat.

Kaelen reached forward, fingers weaving into her hair to gently tilt her face toward him. His eyes searched hers, wide with reverence. His voice cracked as he whispered, barely audible but rich with awe: "Beautiful."

Dareth's rhythm quickened--more insistent now, his breath hot and uneven against her shoulder. Each thrust drove deeper, nudging her forward, pushing her toward the edge. Selene responded without thinking--slicker, tighter, trembling beneath the mounting pressure of pleasure rising fast and fierce.

And then--release.

A moan broke from her, long and low, as she clamped around him. Pleasure crashed over her in waves. It tore through her, left her open and burning, every nerve lit, every breath ragged and gasping.

Her body trembled, limbs shaking beneath the force of it, barely able to hold herself upright.

Dareth stayed buried deep, his forehead resting against her back. Holding her through the storm. Waiting.

When her breathing began to slow, when the tremors eased, he began to move again--long, slow thrusts into her oversensitive heat, careful and coaxing.

He guided her head forward with gentle pressure, and she followed--mouth open, welcoming. Kaelen slid back between her lips with a groan, his body taut as she took him in once more.

Dareth's rhythm built, breath growing rougher, pace more urgent. The need was rising faster now.

Kaelen watched her face, her mouth, the way she swallowed him. Her lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with afterglow.

He couldn't hold back.

His breath caught. His body tensed. A broken sound tore from his chest as the pleasure overcame him--hot, pulsing--spilling into her mouth. She took it all, swallowing him down without hesitation, accepting him fully.

Dareth wasn't far behind. With a final thrust, he let go, voice low and guttural as he came. His hands tightened around her hips, grip near bruising, holding her like he never wanted to let go.

Selene sagged forward, forehead resting against Kaelen's thigh, her mouth parted, chest rising in slow, uneven waves. Kaelen, fully reclined now, let his head fall back onto the cushions, eyes closed, breath steadying.

Behind her, Dareth held her close, his lips resting against her shoulder--more breath than kiss.

They stayed like that.

No one spoke. The silence wrapped around them--complete. Sacred.

After a long moment, Dareth shifted, gently brushing damp strands of hair from her neck.

His voice was quiet, almost a murmur. "You alright?"

She nodded, eyes still closed, her answer barely a whisper.

"Perfect."