House Vane
Moonlight dripped into Gerald's room like liquid silver, it painted shadows across the luxirious furnishings.
The soft, decadent sheets left twisted and discarded at the edge of the bed. The room, luxurious with artworks and artifacts from distant lands, felt alive with muted sounds—breaths, whispers, the rhythmic shuffling of skin against skin.
A woman's moans filled the chamber, soft gasps and throaty sighs escaping her parted lips as Gerald held her close.
His hand gripped her wrist, fingers trailing over her skin as he drew her arm behind her back, pressing her forward, bent over the bed, her body exposed in the moonlight's caress. Their movements, uncensored and raw, blended with the rustle of sheets and the creak of wood, the room steeped in the heat and sweat of their union.