As the sun peeked over the horizon, it cast its golden gaze upon the pace, bathing the grand edifi hues of amber and rose. The regal stone walls, usually as weling as a tax collector, softened uhe m light, almost managing a cozy vibe.
In the royal bedchamber, Burn and Man had apparently takeerm 'royal enta' quite literally. They were artfully draped in a b from the waist down, their bodies doing a ving impression of a pretzel knot, minus the obnoxious loops.
Ah, they were as serene as the pace's treasury during tax season.
Outside, the pace grounds were waking up. Birds chirped their m gossip, the castle kits ged with the symphony of breakfast, and the pace staff began their daily dance of duties.
Yet, within the royal bedchamber, time seemed to be on a coffee break. It was as if the world had taken a collective pause, allowing Burn and Man a couple of bonus ston hits before the day barged in, with its eo-do lists and unavoidable obligations.
So there it was, a new m, a new beginning. But within the pace, there was a distinct whisper in the air that the status quo had been tweaked, and not so subtly at that. M had broken, and apparently, so had a few ventions.
“Mmh—”
Man roused from her slumber, her eyelids weighed down by the remnants of dreams and the lure of sleep.
Her hair, a river of liquid gold, cascaded around, vely doubling as a drape for her upper body that was fortably led against Burn's chest. Peeks of her abaster skin pyed hide and seek from within his embrace, her chest snugly pressed against his.
It was a se straight out of a cssic painting, minus the fig leaves.
"Awake?" Burn's voice, hoarse from sleep or perhaps emotions, nudged her from the edge of sciousness.
Before her eyes even had the ce to flutter open, she found her slender arms winding their way around his shoulders, pulling herself closer as he shifted to face her.
Burn had been on the edge of suspi for a while now. When she didn't bolt after he locked the door, his eyebrows had twitched in curiosity.
When she pyfully sprawled on his sheets, the suspi had a slight growth spurt. And when he discovered the absence of undergarments beh her white ce dress, suspi graduated to full-blowicism.
He was suspicious, and then—
"Yiving me your virginity for a resurre spell?"
Now, a resurre spell wasn't your run-of-the-mill spell. It held its own special niche in the magical world, accessible only to a select few.
Priestesses, for instance.
It was typically used to mend the wounds of those who walked the righteous path – padins, holy knights and the like. The procedure was sacred, the spell a divine blessing.
The typical way to carry out this diviransa was within the sanctity of a church, uhe vigint eyes of priests and steeped in hallowed rituals.
The of virginity was more symbolic than al. The wounded man would remain as still as a statue, his eyes closed, oblivious to the world, while the woman would carry out the act of peion.
This was no passioryst; it was a sacrifice, a solemn pact sealed without the summit of pleasure. They would then sleep side by side until the m light, bodies close but worlds apart.
This sacred ritual was less about the meeting of bodies and more about the merging of souls. It was an act of love, but not in the way one might expect. It was love for duty, love for the divine, love in its purest, most selfless form.
"But it still worked, right? It’s a good use for this mortal vessel’s virginity," Man bli him, her blue eyes shimmering with a hint of mischief.
"You're not a priestess, you're a witch. I was the one who... fucked you, ah found the summit of pleasure. Closing my eyes? I don't remember even blinking once. And this definitely isn't a church—"
"Caliburn," Man interjected, nipping his indignant tirade in the bud, her voice a soft but firm terpoint to his heated assertions.
It seemed that the traditional rules of the game had been thrown out the window, repced by a new pybook written by Man herself. And to her credit, it appeared to be w just fine.
They fucked, and climaxed. That wasn’t sacred at all.
It was anything but sacred!
"Yes, I'm not a priestess, Caliburn," she said, her voice carrying an uone of amusement. "But I am a holy woman. I'm a saint. This title has been mine for so long people have fotten. I must admit, it's rather ve at times like these..."
"Also..." Man tinued, brushing past Burn's wide-eyed surprise as if it were an insequential detail. "Because I'm a saint, wherever I go bees holy ground. We don't need a church."
Burn regarded her, his gaze searg for further expnation in her eyes. But all he saw was a glow of innoce that made the passionate escapades of the previous day seem like a distant, impossible memory.
They fucked all day yesterday, lost in each other—yet there she was, looking as if she'd spent the day at a tea party instead.
"Anddd, actually," Man began again, her voice slightly shaky as she cleared her throat. "That vampire church… I fou a few hundred years ago. Master Vd's my cardinal."
Burn's forehead furrowed into a deeper frown, the pieces of this plex puzzle starting to fall into pce.
"Those rules you mentioned about the resurre spell," Man's voice began to fade, her pompousness faltering. "It was me, along with other religious leaders, who established them.”
“They were put io enforce order, to prevent young, impulsive individuals from misusing it to satisfy their lustful desires."
The revetions hit Burn like waves crashing upon a shore, eaore surprising tha.
"Actually, also—"
"What? What again? Is there more?" Burn interrupted in disbelief.
Man’s ce defted. Her face reddened, and she seemed to shrink in his embrace. “...Never mind.”
Bur his veins pop in anger, but not that kind of anger. He grasped her body forcefully, making her squeal in surprise. Her excitement alpable as she giggled sweetly in his ears. “Miss Momo, tell me.”
“No~!” she ughed, her beautiful face twisting in joy as she realized how much she had stirred him. Her ugh was so sweet—so beautiful and crisp—his deep and low chuckle plime perfectly.
He knew she had do for him. He suspected it was her iion from the beginning. Even when she was angry at him for acg her of betrayal, she remained in his room.
His soul had been ripped apart by the curse, and she had jumped in headfirst to heal him.
"My... Burn..."
"...Caliburn..."
Her voice from yesterday echoed in his mind—
"Dear Divine, unto Thee—I offer this sacred gift of chastity, a sacrifiy own purity—Humbly, I beseech Thee... ngghhh!”
Now that he remembered it again—even he blushed.
“Extend Thiial mercy to heal the soul of my... soul, that lies within mine own—hh… My beloved son of man, Caliburn—!"
It was only a prayer for the spell… yet—
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Ahem, ahem, Your Majesty, the preparation for the strategy meeting is plete."
Burn was yanked bato reality like a fish on a hook. He gnced down at the womaled in his arms, his brow furrowing. What was this Déjà Vu?
It was Gahad’s voice through the door—oh, how nostalgic.
Burn sighed. He rose from the bed and pulled his house robe to put on. He didn’t realize how Man still tried to hold her giggles when he opehe door and saw Gahad stared back at him in plete shock.
“Y-Your Majesty…?!”
“What?” Burn frowned.
Gahad poi his head in panid it prompted Burn to turn to his mirror. The man in the mirror was—
“Wh—”
Blonde.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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Writing smut in English is hard because AI usually refuses to help you. Luckily, we still have Grammarly for free :'''vvvv
Speaking of smut, I just finished Chapter 85.5. It will be open to the public for free when I release Chapters 85 and 86. Chapter 70.5 still used a tiny bit of AI to help me with the grammar (yes, I forced a certain unwilling AI to proofread my smut chapter), but Chapter 85.5 is purely my own writing, word by word.
Actually, you will realize that it had no distinct differe all because I wrote both of them myself. The difference is only that one is proofread, and one is my attempt at being raw and "fuck it all" (which is what you would expect from a smut chapter).
