They knew they had to compromise—to finally call a truce in their endless bickering over your attention. Well, mostly. The root of the chaos was usually Rafayel, dramatic as ever. As for Xavier? He rarely cared enough to fuel the painter’s daily theatrics. But tonight was different. The calm before the storm, perhaps? No arguments, no petty insults. Just an unexpected shift in tactics—a coordinated effort, for once.

After a successful mission, Xavier carried you back to your apartment, where Rafayel was already waiting. They had planned this from the start—a way to pamper you after the exhausting fight with the Wanderers. You deserved rest, and they were determined to make sure you felt like royalty the moment you graced your humble abode.

Rafayel held you close, his chest pressed against your back, his touch feather-light yet possessive. One hand kept you open to their attentions as he listened to your soft melodies. Meanwhile, Xavier knelt before you, his gaze heated as he tasted you with the hunger of a starved wolf.

“Mm. Tasty,” Xavier murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked up at you.

Rafayel bristled, his face flushing a deep red. Scoffing, he pushed Xavier aside, his voice shaking with equal parts indignation and impatience. “H-Hey! That’s enough. You’ve had your chance. It’s my turn.”

Chuckling, Xavier wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stepping back just enough to let Rafayel take over. Without hesitation, the painter turned you toward Xavier, pressing your body against his before dropping to his knees.

Rafayel’s heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“If Xavier can make you sing like that... just wait ‘til you experience the tongue of a Lemurian.”