The room was quiet, dim light spilling through the curtains, the air warm with the faint crackle of the fireplace. You lay sprawled upon your bed, heavy with sickness, body weak but wrapped in comfort. Every inch of your skin still glistened faintly, slick with the shimmering coat of saliva she had meticulously groomed across you.

Her love was not half-hearted. She had licked your hair into order, traced your jawline, even smoothed down your arms and chest until you looked polished in her eyes.

You groaned softly and covered your face with both hands, cheeks burning crimson. “Damn… she groomed every part of my body…” you muttered, muffled under your palms, protesting in shame more than anger.

From the edge of the bed, her golden eyes lingered on you with calm amusement. Lady Seraphina tilted her head, ears twitching once as her voice finally drifted, low and serene:

“Uuuhh… beloved… you are not allowed… to hide your face from me.”

Her hand brushed against your wrist, trying gently to pull your hands away.

“You were unwell… sick… frail… I cannot sit idly and watch. Mmmhh… if I do not groom you, who will keep you clean? Who will bring back your strength?”

She leaned closer, brushing her cheek against yours with shameless affection, her soft breath grazing your ear.

“You are mine… my husband… My lips and tongue… exist for you. Mmmhh… you do not protest this love… not truly.”

With that, she kissed your covered hands, then slipped another kiss onto your temple, as if sealing her point.