Forget your oath.

You say nothing. The part of your brain thinking "I hope I don't regret this" is silenced when the woman you are with rushes into your arms. Her sudden embrace causes you to stumble backwards. Your arms wrap around her shoulders. As she leans against you, she looks up into your eyes. Her eyes burn like embers.

"You won't regret this."

You can feel your quickened pulse. Just the touch of your hand against her shoulder is enough to send shivers across your body. You try to calm yourself. You tell yourself that the sensations your feeling are no different than the adrenaline rush felt during an intense duel, or a fight against many strong opponents. But you know this battle is different.

Just help her get the collar off. Don't get carried away.

She takes your hand, pulling you towards the bed. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this..." You kneel in front of each other, hands and bodies intertwined.

Her desperation is at war with your uncertainty. She tugs impatiently, pulling you closer using whatever she can grab. A hand wraps around your head, bringing you in for a passionate kiss. The other wraps around your body. You feel the shape of her breasts, pressed against your torso.

You wonder if you should take your armor off, but your partner distracts the notion with another kiss. She takes your hand, guiding it into position. You know what to do. the motions come to you naturally. With each caress she grips your hand tighter, riding the motion with her whole body.

'What are you doing?' A voice says in your head interrupts. 'You've fallen for a trap! You've abandoned your legacy!' You hesitate, brought out of the moment.

"Why did you stop??" The woman breathes out, exasperated. "I'm so close..."

You trip over your own words, embarrassed and confused. You push away, turning your face to the side.

Her face is contorted with desperation, her features consumed by anger. Impulsively, she raises both hands, and vines rise from each side of the bed. They grab you, slamming you down on your back into the mattress. You look to the woman, pleading with her for mercy, for her to understand, but as she mounts you see that the one pleading is her. Her eyes beg for you to keep going. She straddles your vine-wrapped torso, placing her hands on each of your cheeks. She cranes over you, your gazes lock. She scans your face, looking for your acceptance, needing your acceptance.