The west wing corridor ended at a heavy oak door etched with faint, faded runes. Harper fumbled the iron key into the lock with trembling fingers, gave it a twist, and pushed the door open. A small but surprisingly clean and lavish room greeted them: One bed pushed against wall, a window overlooking the ominous crimson spire, a dark curtain looming on the window, a single table, and in the corner, a modest bathing alcove screened by a thin linen curtain. A copper tub sat ready, already filled with steaming water—courtesy of whatever sorcery or enchantments kept the Castle functioning.
Harper cleared his throat, handed Sunny the key, and muttered something about "dinner bell at the sixth hour—don't be late, Or you'll starve." Then he scurried away like a mouse who'd just realized it was in a snake pit, door clicking shut behind him.
Silence settled.
Sunny turned the key in his palm once, twice, then tossed it onto the table with a soft clink. He looked at Nephis.
She stood in the center of the room, Starlight Legion Armor gleaming softly in the dim light, silver plates still hugging every lethal curve. But beneath them… he knew. He could practically smell it: the faint, heady musk of his own cum, thick and drying against her skin, trapped like a secret between metal and flesh. Every step she'd taken from the registry desk had made it shift, smear, leak a little more.
Nephis's nose wrinkled, just the tiniest bit.
"I need a bath," she announced, voice flat, regal, like she was declaring war instead of hygiene.
Sunny's grin was slow, predatory.
"Yeah. You are filthy." He stepped closer, eyes dragging down her armored form. "Someone's been dripping all over the inside of that pretty armor since the slums. Bet it's starting to feel… sticky."
Nephis's silver eyes narrowed. "Your fault."
"Guilty." He didn't sound sorry at all. "And proud."
She crossed her arms under her breasts, the motion making the plates shift with a soft metallic whisper. "Then you can wait outside while I clean up. We have less than half an hour before dinner."
Sunny tilted his head, shadows coiling lazily at his feet. "Nah. Waste of water. We should bathe together."
Nephis stared at him like he'd suggested they burn the Castle down for fun.
"Absolutely not."
"Come on." He stepped into her space, voice dropping low. "You're already wearing me like perfume under there. What's a little more? I'll be good. Scout's honor."
"You were never a scout," she said dryly. "And 'good' is not in your vocabulary."
Sunny laughed under his breath, reaching out to trace one finger along the seam where the breastplate met her collarbone. "I'll wash your back. You wash mine. Very civilized. Very efficient."
Nephis didn't move, but her pupils dilated a fraction. "You'll try something."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
He shrugged, shameless. "If you let me."
She exhaled through her nose, the sound almost a scoff. "We'll be late for dinner."
"Then we'll be quick." His grin sharpened. "Or… not. Your choice."
Nephis held his gaze for a long moment. The room felt smaller, hotter. Beneath the armor, another slow trickle of his spend escaped her, warm against the inside of her thigh. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together—and the motion only made it worse.
Sunny noticed. Of course he did.
His voice softened, edged with something raw. "Let me take care of you, Neph. Just once without fighting it."
She looked away first, toward the curtained alcove, then back at him. The faintest flush colored her cheeks—barely visible, but there.
"…Fine," she said at last, the word clipped, reluctant, but unmistakable. "But if you make us late, I'll drown you in the tub."
Sunny's smile was pure victory.
"Deal."
He reached for the clasps of her armor, fingers already deft and eager.
Nephis didn't stop him.
Nephis stood in the center of the small bathing alcove, backlit by the soft blue glow of the enchanted braziers. She lifted one hand, fingers splaying, and the Starlight Legion Armor dissolved in a cascade of glittering motes.
The silver plates vanished like shimmering sparks.
What remained was her—flawless, pale, devastating.
Sunny's breath punched out of him.
Her body was a map of their debauchery: thick, opaque ropes of his cum had dried across her skin in abstract patterns. Streaks painted her full breasts, crusted over the stiff peaks of her nipples like obscene jewelry. Long trails ran between them, down the flat plane of her stomach, pooling in the dip of her navel before continuing lower—over the swell of her hips, the powerful lines of her thighs. Between her legs her pussy lips were still swollen, glistening where fresh slick had mixed with the older, flaking spend. Every movement she made caused brittle white flakes to crack and drift to the tiled floor like obscene snow.
Sunny's trousers were already shoved down, cock standing brutally hard and flushed dark from the moment the armor disappeared. He'd dismissed his own Memory armor the instant her bare skin hit the light—couldn't even remember doing it. His shaft throbbed visibly, a thick bead of precum rolling down the underside and dripping to the stone.
Nephis stepped into the copper tub without looking at him, water sloshing around her calves.
"Only bath," she said, voice low, steady, almost warning. "We have dinner soon. No games."
Sunny followed her in anyway.
The water was scalding, perfect. He slid behind her, chest to her back, cock nestling hot and heavy against the cleft of her ass. His arms came around her waist, palms flat on her stomach where the dried cum had begun to soften and re-melt in the heat.
"Only bath," he echoed, mocking, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
His hands moved upward, cupping her breasts. The dried flakes dissolved under his thumbs as he circled her nipples, slow, deliberate. Nephis's spine stiffened, but she didn't pull away. Instead she leaned back—just a fraction—enough to press her ass harder against his erection.
"Sunny…" A warning, but huskier now.
He pinched her nipples once, hard. She hissed.
"You said only bath," he murmured. "Didn't say I couldn't wash you properly."
One hand slid down, fingers tracing the sticky trails along her abdomen until he reached her mound. He parted her folds with two fingers, exposing her clit to the hot water. Nephis's thighs trembled.
"Look at this mess," he growled against her neck, teeth grazing. "I painted you like a canvas and you walked around the whole damn Castle wearing it. Dripping. Leaking. Smelling like my cum."
Her head fell back against his shoulder. A soft, involuntary sound escaped her.
Sunny's fingers dipped inside her—slow, easy, stirring the remnants of his earlier load that still clung to her walls. The water turned cloudy around them, white swirling in lazy tendrils.
"You're still full of me," he whispered, pumping gently. "Feel that? That's what happens when you let a cockroach mark you."
Nephis's hand shot back, fisting in his hair, yanking his head closer.
"Shut up," she breathed, but her hips rolled forward onto his fingers, chasing more.
He laughed—low, dark—and added a third finger, stretching her open while his thumb found her clit and rubbed tight, merciless circles.
The water sloshed louder.
Nephis's free hand gripped the edge of the tub, knuckles white. Her breath came in short, sharp pants.
"You're going to come," Sunny said against her throat, voice rough. "Right here, in this fancy Castle bath, with my fingers buried in your greedy cunt and my cock grinding against your ass. And you're going to do it quietly, princess. Because if you scream, the whole west wing will know exactly what the Changing Star sounds like when she falls apart."
She clenched around him hard enough to hurt.
"Faster," she ordered, voice cracking.
Sunny obeyed.
He fucked her with his fingers—brutal, precise, curling against that spot inside her while his thumb ground her clit in relentless circles. His other hand returned to her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple until it was scarlet and swollen.
Nephis broke first.
Her body locked up, thighs shaking, a choked, strangled moan tearing from her throat. She came hard, pussy spasming around his fingers, fresh slick gushing out to mix with the cloudy water. Her hips jerked, riding his hand through every pulse until she sagged against him, trembling.
Sunny didn't stop.
He pulled his fingers free, brought them to her mouth.
"Clean them," he ordered.
Nephis turned her head, silver eyes glassy with afterglow, and sucked his fingers deep—tongue swirling, tasting herself and him and the bathwater. She moaned around the digits, soft and filthy.
Sunny's cock jerked against her ass, leaking steadily now.
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, then gripped her hips and lifted her just enough to line himself up.
"Only bath," he mocked one last time, voice wrecked.
Then he slammed into her from behind in one brutal thrust.
Water exploded over the tub's edge.
Nephis cried out—sharp, unrestrained—head thrown back, nails raking his forearms.
And the real depravity began.