-@thegoddessofsin A Kiss, Pardoner
It was not uncommon for affections to be shared between the mortal and the Goddess when night chased both the pilgrims and crows back to slumber; gentle caresses, chaste kisses, sometimes a glint of long-faded desires to warm the coldest nights; such were formed most of these loving gestures. Their closeness was usually brief and without great consequence, much unlike the fires they would ignite in the past - time had worn away this flame, though not the love that birthed it.
And although it was unnatural for the old cleric to make these advances, there was something that night about the way the moonlight colored her skin, the way the night breeze made her now-mortal shiver ever so slightly. Perhaps it was this realization, the vulnerability of her exposed shoulderblades where the moon drew soft shadows, or even pity - whatever it was that drove him to do so, he kneeled behind the bared Goddess, letting bold hands take hold of her waist. She turned slightly to face her servant, blue rays dancing on her neck and parted lips; but she could not find his gaze. To act upon his desires shamed the pardoner, and the kiss he placed at the nape of her neck told of this conflict between righteousness and want.
It was nothing new to the Goddess of Sin, whom knew better than any of the workings of men’s hearts. Encouragingly, she wrapped her cold fingers around his, calloused and bony, and dragged them upwards from her waist and across her chest to her collarbones. This earned her a second kiss, and a third also, across her pale neck and her spine. She felt the soft caress of his hair when the cleric rested his forehead on her shoulder, teasing streaks stroking her skin.
And they remained embraced thus, imprisoned in the respect that had built between them in the time they had shared, their bodies and passions eroded, cornered between his devotion and her desire.
