The cot creaked as Lena sank back, her shirt already discarded, the rough fabric a crumpled heap on the floor.
Gon knelt over her, his tunic gone too, the moonlight slicing through the narrow window to paint faint lines across his chest.
Her skin glowed warm under his gaze, a flush creeping up from her neck, her boobs rising with each quick breath.
The room was small, the air thick with the day's trapped heat, and the faint hum of the common hall's chaos lingered beyond the stone walls.
He didn't rush, his hands rested on her hips, thumbs brushing the edge of her pants, and he grinned, that familiar smirk sharp in the dim light.
She watched him, gray eyes wary but softening, her hands hovering near his arms like she wasn't sure where to land them.
He slid his hands lower, fingers tugging at her pants' ties, loosening them with slow, deliberate pulls.
"You're too good for half-measures," he said, voice low and smooth, echoing the charm he'd spun in the hall.
