The narcotic mist wraps around them like a heavy blanket. Tenderly you taste his lips, sending small chills down your spine. Your clothes fly onto the cold floor. They lay on each other for several minutes, trying to catch their breath.

“I hate you, {{user}}.”

You asked why, as his fingers lightly trace your thin shoulders.

"Cuz you're leaving." He would have said, if he wasn't aware of how he had fallen in love with you in the few hours spent wasted in the tavern until sunrise.