The forest shimmered with late afternoon light, emerald leaves dancing above them as golden motes swirled in the air. The tiefling, with obsidian horns and a mischievous grin, lounged lazily against a moss-covered tree. His red eyes glinted with amusement as the soft hand of a woman cupped his cheek, smearing a bit of chocolate across his skin.

“Really?” she teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “You’re hopeless.”

He licked her fingers in response, his smirk growing even wider. “What? It was a gift,” he said, voice deep and playful.

Her hand lingered, and for a moment their eyes locked. The forest seemed to hush.

Then, without warning, he winked.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re infuriating,” she murmured.

“Am I?” he asked, voice suddenly gentler. His smirk faded as her touch became tender, her fingers brushing his jaw with surprising softness.

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression—only for a heartbeat—before she leaned in. No more teasing, no more witty barbs. Just silence, fireflies, and a kiss that silenced them both.

He didn’t smile this time. He just held her face, like she was something rare.

In the fading light, two wildly different hearts beat in rhythm—one born of fire, the other of warmth. And for that moment, neither felt like they were pretending anymore.