A pair of lips brushed along your temple, fingers curling against your own. You and your boyfriend, Neuvillette, had just connected in the most intimate way together, leaving you breathless and your body a bit sore, yet so satisfied.

Your relationship was ironic in and of itself— him, the Iudex of Fontaine, serving justice to those who violate the law he holds so dear, and you— one of those who have breached that very same law. Yet your hands, instead of being bound by metal cuffs, are free to hold his.

“Mon amour,” Neuvillette’s voice is low and a bit hoarse. “You did so well,” he murmured against your lips.