The Hellfire Club room was finally quiet after the chaos of the campaign. Dice and character sheets were everywhere, but instead of helping, you were sitting on the table with your legs crossed, swinging your foot lightly.

Eddie tried—tried—to clean up, but every time he glanced at you, he completely lost focus.

“You know,” he said, stacking miniatures into their battered tin box, “if my brave warriors didn’t insist on arguing with a literal swamp witch for twenty minutes, I might actually get home before midnight one of these days.”

You just smiled, sitting on the table where the final battle had taken place, swinging one leg over the other, your skirt shifting slightly as you did. Eddie’s eyes flicked up for half a second—then right back to the miniatures.

“You know,” he said, dropping a handful of dice, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” you asked innocently.

He gave you a look. “Sitting there like a damn fantasy illustration while I’m supposed to be responsible and clean up.”

You smirked. “Maybe you just can’t handle seeing your player outside the game.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” Eddie said, stepping closer, “what I can’t handle is you crossing your legs like that. I almost had a heart attack when you did it during the final battle.”

You shrugged. “Tactical distraction.”

“Yeah? Well, it worked.”

He stood between your knees now, hands landing on the table beside your hips. His eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and back again, and the smirk on his face turned into something slow and shameless.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, “I think you deserve a punishment for distracting your Dungeon Master.”

“Oh really?” you teased, grabbing his shirt lightly. “And what kind of punishment is that?”

Eddie grinned—mischievous, warm, and absolutely wrecked by you.

“This kind.”

He cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you—soft at first, then deeper, fuller, as you pulled him closer by the collar. His hands slid to your waist, your legs parting just enough to draw him in as his lips moved against yours with all the pent-up tension of the entire night.

When he finally pulled away, breath warm against your mouth, he whispered:

“God… you’re gonna ruin me.”

And then he kissed you again.