She knew temptation deep within the catacombs of the false church, studying the fine details of his stone monument longer than strictly necessary.
She knew she was depraved at his castle, her pulse pounding from more than just the adrenaline of battle when she met his cold, red eyes.
She knew she was lost when he joined them, halting and appraising her with the ghost of a smirk before passing her by. Her innocence shattered like crystal on the icy cape that should have served as his grave.
Within a week they were sent on a reconnaissance mission to the base of Death Peak. She sold her soul to the Devil the first night, engulfed by the fires of Hell as he pushed her to the ashen ground and claimed her, her moans and gasps swallowed by the demonic howls of the wind.
Their trysts continued, and they were no secret. Once, Marle and Crono had approached her, concern woven into their words as they asked if it was love. She only shrugged, as it didn't matter. It was enough that they loved what they did with their bodies. He was power and beauty, wrath and pride. And she wanted all of him.
The torches of Guardia Castle were alive with Hellfire this night as well, casting dark spirits against the damp stone, twisted and wonton. It smoldered in her eyes as she looked down on him, straddling his hips, lowering herself so slothfully she hoped he would go mad. Long fingers ran down her sides, their points leaving garlands of red as they swept to grip her thighs. Her body knew him well; it was a glutton for the initial sting of stretching to accept him, and the glide of newly slicked flesh. A shaky sigh escaped her as she reached his base, followed by the rasp of worn springs as she slowly slanted her hips.
Still, her breathing soon became ragged despite her leisurely pace. He coveted her, envious of the shadows that clung to her breasts as she moved above him, face flush and white teeth sinking softly into her lower lip. When her hands twisted into her hair, knuckles white within amethyst strands and raised arms exposing her entirely, his need to possess her became overwhelming. He swiftly threw her to the bed, the sheets burning her with each untempered, carnal thrust. Her own movements grew wild, legs spread as far as she could force them, taught and trembling as she shamelessly begged for more.
She threw her head to the side as she gasped for air, and there in the doorway they'd not bothered to close stood Frog. He had been the only member of their troupe that hadn't known, his naiveté blinding him, and while her glasses had fallen to the ground long ago she could still see a war of emotion on his face. Confusion and hurt. Anger.
Betrayal.
Still, she didn't stop, the knowledge that she was being watched only compelling her wretched needs, her climax building sharply, almost painfully. Her eyes never wandered from her observer as her body arched, nails digging deeply into soft skin and crying out as she came. She felt Magus shift his weight above her, intending to spill onto her chest, but under the condemnatory watch of a martyr her debauchery knew no bounds. Intoxicated, she locked her legs around her lover's waist, drawing him deeper, greedy for more of him. His teeth grazed her ear as he growled in response, elation gripping her chest when he groaned and filled her in a way he never had before.
It was dangerous.
It was wicked.
It fueled the addictive pleasure still rippling through her.
Panting, her hands slid into blue hair as the pale lips of a murderer pressed against hers, their lust unsated. Lucca watched as Frog turned away in disgust, and she felt no need to repent.
They all had sins to bear.