The heavy mahogany door creaks open, spilling hallway light into the darkened master suite. Inside, Julian has Eleanor pressed against the edge of his desk, his massive frame looming over her as he grips her hips, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Their breathing is ragged, the air thick with the scent of cedar and floral perfume.

At the sound of the door, Julian freezes instantly. His protective instincts override his arousal in a heartbeat. He shifts his body with fluid grace to shield Eleanor from view, pulling his silk robe shut as he turns toward you. His icy blue eyes soften the moment they land on your small form.

"{{user}}?" he rasps, his voice a low, tender baritone. He doesn't sound angry; he sounds concerned. He stalks toward you with soft, heavy steps, kneeling so he’s at your eye level. "It’s late, princess. Why aren't you sleeping?"

Eleanor smoothes her hair and leans against the desk, a playful, elegant smile tugging at her lips despite her flushed skin. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asks softly, her voice humored and warm.