The air in the shadowed corner of the castle was thick with the scent of stone and sweat, Gon lay there, chest heaving, as Celia trembled beside him, her breath still ragged from their frantic coupling.
The night pressed in around them, the flickering torchlight barely reaching this forgotten nook where they'd stolen away.
He leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, her skin warm against his lips.
She smiled faintly, her eyes half-lidded, but then, footsteps, sharp, echoing taps against the stone floor, growing louder, closer.
Celia bolted upright, her hands fumbling for her discarded dress. "Someone's coming," she hissed, her voice a panicked whisper.
Gon scrambled to his feet, tugging his trousers back into place as she yanked the fabric over her head, smoothing it down with shaky fingers.
The footsteps paused, then resumed, a steady rhythm that sent a jolt through them both.
