"Makima" comes to the rescue

It was this scene that Julian, his Makima-suit moving with silent grace, found. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, his golden-ringed eyes taking in the entire spectacle with a calm, unreadable expression. He watched as Kenshiro grunted and climaxed deep inside Alex, his body shuddering. He watched as Light followed suit a moment later, spilling his own release into Alex’s throat. He watched them pull away, flushed and panting, leaving Alex a beautiful, broken mess on the table, his body slick with sweat and fluids, his Junko-blue eyes hazy and unfocused.

Only then did Julian step forward. “I believe,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying an authority that cut through their post-coital haze, “that she is with me. Your time is concluded.”

The two men, suddenly sobered by the appearance of this terrifyingly composed woman, scrambled to fix their costumes and muttered hasty apologies before practically fleeing the room. Julian looked down at Alex, at the ruined shirt, the exposed breasts, the general state of disarray. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. “It seems,” he murmured, “that the suit was a resounding success.” He gently helped Alex sit up, buttoning the shirt as best he could, and guided his trembling, intoxicated body out of the party and into the cool night air.