Valeria gently brushed away Seraphina's tears with the pads of her thumbs, so tenderly it might have been a kiss—if only the princess closed her eyes.
She didn't speak right away.
Desire had taken root too deep to be easily unraveled.
Instead, she leaned in,
her lips brushing lightly against Seraphina's damp cheek.
"Can I show you how I feel?"
she whispered against her skin,
her voice soft, reverent—
but her meaning unmistakably clear.
Seraphina's lashes fluttered, still wet with tears.
The sight made Valeria smile,
a crooked, aching smile full of want and something gentler beneath it.
"You're pretty even when you cry,"
she murmured, her lips now ghosting against the corner of Seraphina's mouth.
"You're infuriating."
Her breath caught.
Seraphina tasted like warmth, like longing,
like everything the jester had ever dreamed of touching
but never dared.
Gods, she thought.
The divine must have shaped her—
a sin too perfect to resist.
"Gods, let me kiss you already," Valeria panted,
her voice cracking under the weight of restraint.
Seraphina's cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady,
but her voice—
her voice was silk, laced with a teasing command.
"Ask me properly, Val."
The nickname slipped from her lips like it had always belonged there.
And it made Valeria tremble.
Her face burned.
Desire and panic collided in her chest.
"This is so embarrassing," she groaned,
hiding her face in the crook of Seraphina's neck.
The princess's skin was warm and inviting,
her scent grounding, dizzying.
But Seraphina—graceful even in stillness—lifted her hands at last.
They rose like a promise,
gliding over Valeria's back as if her fingertips brushed fine-spun gold.
"Look at me,"
she murmured,
then pressed a soft kiss to Valeria's neck.
The jester's breath hitched,
her heart kicking up like a wild drum in her chest.
She obeyed.
When she lifted her gaze again,
Seraphina was waiting.
Smiling.
Knowing.
"Ask," the princess said again—
playful, commanding,
sweet as sin.
Valeria, breathless and utterly undone,
let her eyes flicker helplessly to Seraphina's lips.
"May I kiss you, my princess?"
she whispered.
A plea.
A prayer.