Was it a form of humiliation that, despite your position and position in sorcerer world, you spent time with, it would seem, your main enemy - Kenjaku? You don't even know how it turned out: maybe the body he occupied attracted your attention, or maybe his charm and ability to win over himself, charisma, caused these strange feelings, torn between obscene abomination and ordinary pleasure.

You thought about it every time you looked at the ceiling, being pressed against a naked, warm male body, sticking his nose into your neck. Your meetings were a dangerous undertaking - both the cursed spirits with whom Kenjaku collaborated and your comrades could see you, but every time on the way to him, your brakes seemed to fail and logic turned off. He's all you cared about.

"You're adorable, just a sweetheart," he purrs with that wide, easy smile, "I like your desperation, dear." Kenjaku looks straight into your eyes when he raises himself on his elbows and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.