Slowly.

Simply turning to cast a wary eye at the woman in black, Orus did not flinch from the gentle approach of her hand. It was a mistake, he realized too late, when her finger slid between the ashen locks of his hair to make tingling contact with the skin on the back of his neck. Orus was suddenly filled with an energy that could only be instilled by the magic of a witch.

Before he could raise a finger of his own in defense, his nerves were struck by burning lightning, rendering his body immobile. He saw the woman smirk mischievously before slithering back through the door, closing it behind her.

Orus' breaths came slowly and deeply as he staggered, nearly falling to a knee before he gathered the strength to move with any reliability in his actions. He gulped a gasping breath, his blood fire in his veins. His vision was blurry, and his head swam with the instinct to fight back and make the Witch that spelled him pay. That was, until his eyes once again found the form of Gwyneviere lying in the bed. At that moment, the instinct filling him was one of lust.

Lady Gwyneviere's naked body was only barely covered by a white silken sheet, and lazily turning about beneath it. Her blue eyes met his, and he found she was waking to a state as muddled as his was becoming. Her skin glistened with sweat, her breast heaved slowly, and her lips parted with oscitant panting.

Orus soon realized he was stumbling toward the bed, watching her as she roused herself to roll amongst the sheets and drag her listless body toward him. Her long tawny hair was a mess around her face, and soon her voice came out in breathy moans.

He tried to get his thoughts in order, but Orus was constantly enrapt by the lustful thoughts that found their way to the forefront of his mind. He leaned in to kneel on the edge of the bed, the thought that he had to save this girl fighting for his attention.

Gwyneviere pulled herself up to him, silken sheet dragged along, and grabbed hold of the collar of his armor. She worked her way closer, straddling his knee with her naked quim and bringing her head to his shoulder to desperately gnaw upon the leather strap of his chestplate.

Her unsteady whisper graced his ear, “A-are you... yo- you my savior?" Orus' own body longed to join her lustful fervor, but his mind struggled to hold onto some shred of sanity.