#I have accumulated so many screenshots that I had enough for a short story😅

[alstrodurge]

Since that night when the creature who called itself your butler found you, you’ve made a habit of staying away from the others.

Perhaps it’s an attempt to protect them from the danger you pose.

Or maybe… you just don’t need witnesses.

Tonight, your camp is set in the shadow of ruins that were once a temple of Shar. Your gaze drifts indifferently over the shards of stained glass. Amid the murky hues of black and violet, the symbols of the Lady of Loss are still faintly recognizable.

“And so,” a familiar voice drawls nearby, “how exactly am I supposed to… obey?”

He's so close. His tone is low, velvety, laced with a hint of challenge.

You hadn’t heard his footsteps, and no doubt it flattered his ego.

He’s smiling.

But his eyes remain sharp, watching you with a predatory glint.

You catch yourself marveling at how effortlessly he shifts expressions—from mockery to veiled tension, from playful charm to barely-restrained fury, all within a heartbeat.

“Can you trust me?” The question leaves your lips softly, deliberately echoing the very words he once asked you—before his fangs pierced your throat for the first time.

"Close your eyes."

As you say this, you press gently on his shoulders, guiding him down.

His lips tighten, as if weighing whether to object. His body tenses, but after losing some internal battle, he finally yields.

“You’re so charming when you give orders,” he murmurs with a lazy smirk, settling onto your bedroll with his trademark grace.

You barely graze his face, tracing the line of his jaw, down to his neck, and lower to his chest. Magic flares at your fingertips, soft and insistent, as it seeps into his body, threading into his mind.

“What the…” he breathes, but the words die in his throat. His body slackens, melting into your hands.

It was easy—far too easy—to slip into a mind that’s spent centuries in someone else’s grip.

But what lies beyond… that is where the challenge begins.

His mind is like a labyrinth—twisted and dark. He’s hiding… and doing it well. His thoughts are shrouded in shadows, echoes of pain, and decaying memories. But that only fuels your determination.

Your magic, like a web, begins to weave around his mind. You feel his fears, his desires… and something deeper. Something he’s trying to keep even from himself.

You know this is dangerous. What you’re doing could cause irreparable harm.

"Or bring unspeakable pleasure," your own voice whispers in your head.

This feeling.

It isn’t just him who’s lost control now, is it?

But how long has it been since you lost your own?

The realization comes too late.

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You press forward with confidence, as though you have a clear goal.

But the question lingers, sharp and insistent, in the depths of your mind.

Why are you doing this?