Go with Karlach

You let Karlach tug you along, her grip firm and calloused, her pace quick and full of purpose. The thrum of the party fades behind you—music, laughter, the distant flicker of torchlight giving way to the hush of trees and starlight. She doesn’t say a word as she leads you through the underbrush, just throws you the occasional glance over her shoulder, all fire and mischief.

Eventually, she stops in a moonlit clearing. The shadows curl around the edges, and her infernal engine glows softly, casting a molten hue on her skin. She lets go of your hand and turns to face you fully, her smirk softening for a moment. “This good?” she asks, though she’s already stepping closer, like she knows the answer.

You barely get out a nod before she’s on you again—this time slower, more deliberate. Her fingers trail under your shirt, palms exploring like she’s memorizing every line, every scar. When you pull her closer, her armor clinks to the ground in pieces, abandoned without a second thought. Her body presses flush against yours, warm like embers, and her lips meet yours again, not just hungry now, but needy, like something she's been holding back far too long.

Between kisses, her voice breaks the quiet. “Don’t get many nights like this,” she murmurs against your jaw. “Let me have it. Let me have you.” There’s something raw in her voice ****, despite the bravado, and you feel it echo in your own chest. You cup her face, grounding her with your touch.

“You’ve got me,” you whisper. “All night, if you want.”

Her answering grin is all teeth and promise. “Then don’t hold back.”

The clearing disappears around you. There’s only heat, her skin, and the way she says your name like it’s something sacred.

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