The table creaked beneath you as Archer’s hands moved with increasing hunger, your shirt hanging half-off your shoulders, his lips trailing lower, lower—

“I should’ve summoned you like this from the beginning,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Archer chuckled against your skin. “Would’ve saved us both the trouble.”

He hooked your leg around his hip, grinding into you with a groan that sent heat rushing through your veins. You barely noticed the flicker of magic at the threshold—the sound of someone appearing behind the door.

You definitely noticed when the door slammed open.

“Hey, I sensed a spike in mana—” Rin. She froze.

You froze.

Archer didn’t. His hand was still under your shirt. His mouth still dangerously close to skin.

You and Rin locked eyes.

She blinked once. Twice.

Then:

“Oh. My. God.”

Archer slowly turned his head, unfazed. “You knock like a Servant with no shame.”

Rin blinked again. “I trusted you,” she hissed at Archer. “I left you alone for five minutes!”

You tried to sit up—nearly slid off the table instead. “Rin—this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh really?” She gestured dramatically. “So he’s not half-naked, you’re not flushed to your ears, and there’s not a very suspicious mark on your neck?”

Archer raised a brow. “Jealous?”

“Disgusted.”

He smirked. “You always were bad at hiding the difference.”

Rin groaned and turned to leave, muttering under her breath about unholy contracts and traumatized magi. The door slammed shut.

You buried your face in Archer’s shoulder, mortified.

He leaned down, voice low and amused. “So… shall we pick up where we left off?”