I got up from my knees and, undressing as I walked, slowly walked forward under the gaze of the satyr.

Why are you undressing? He chuckled, but didn't move.

“Why do I need clothes with you, Lucius? I would like to thank you, but apart from my body, I have nothing else.

“Yes,” he answered ambiguously, but did not continue.

Throwing off my long-suffering toga, I stood right in front of him and ran a trembling hand over his blood-splattered chest. Without trying to erase them, it's useless, just to touch him, to try to convey what I felt.

It was more than just a "thank you".

I was literally...