Cyrus and Camilla lay tangled in each other's arms. Their breath had slowed, but the room lingered with the evidence of their intense passion.

Cyrus finally slipped out of her, leaving a sudden ache where their connection had been.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled her tightly against his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice almost hoarse.

Camilla made a committal hum, nodding against his chest.

Cyrus didn't fail to remember their ritual, stroking back the strands of her slick her against her face, he murmured, “I love your smell,”

Camilla paused and raised her head to look at him, “Why?”

“It soothes me.” He said softly.

“Ohh.”...