The morning after the Great Leak Sealing, Milforia felt... moist.
Not wet. Not humid. Just gently moist. Like the air had been freshly exhaled by a goddess who'd just taken a long, satisfying sip of Squirtade.
Henry stood at the temple balcony, his silk wrap fluttering lazily around his thighs, kissed by the golden sunrise. He held a steaming cup of Lustleaf Tea, the sacred brew brewed with herbs steeped in oiled thighs and forgotten foreplay.
"Still glowing, huh?" Seraphina said from behind him.
He turned, and oh dear licked gods—
She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. A single towel. A sacred towel—blessed by the Towel Priestesses of Squeezehaven. And barely holding on.
Henry blinked. Slowly. "I feel... balanced. Like my soul did yoga... but with butt cheeks."
Seraphina giggled, padding over barefoot, hips moving like jazz. "You faced Bouncelia. You closed the Spiral. You survived temptation tags most men wouldn't even scroll past."
