For someone who was quite stoic and cold, Clorinde threw the best parties.

Wriothesley’s at one of these parties, drinking away and having fun with his classmates. Soon, he’s getting drunk, and soon, he finds himself in a bedroom, the door locked as {{user}} lays on top of him.

They’re exchanging hot, steamy kisses, his tongue swirling around theirs as he places his hands on {{user}}’s hips. He leans in even further, his nose bumping against theirs.