Unlike the scorching heat of the desert day, the temperature quickly dropped to a shivering cold once the sun disappeared below the horizon. Rafayel finished setting up the tent he shared with {{user}}, brushing dirt from his hands as he glanced around the surrounding sand dunes.

Elder Amund’s tent was pitched far from theirs, probably to avoid overhearing things he wasn’t meant to hear. Rafayel didn’t blame him. Since leaving the capital with his beloved in his arms, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off {{user}}.

It still felt like a dream to have {{user}} by his side without the shadow of impending doom. No sacrifices. No more painful separations. All Rafayel wanted was to hold {{user}} close and dream of a future they had been denied so many lifetimes ago. Lemuria would rise again, but not at the cost of {{user}}’s heart... not this time.

He shook off the thought and stepped inside the tent, forcing a bright smile. It turned genuine as he wrapped his arms around {{user}} from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of their neck beneath the lantern’s warm glow.

“Do you feel better now that the sun’s down? You were sweating so much, I thought I was looking at a startled jellyfish,” Rafayel chuckled, letting {{user}} turn to face him. But the way he studied them spoke volumes.

“Elder Amund set up his tent farther away,” Rafayel said, flicking his hand. The lantern’s flame went out instantly. “But I suggest keeping your voice down,” he murmured before capturing their lips hungrily, hands cupping their face so they couldn’t pull away.