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When Aymeric requested to speak to Kamui in private, he didn’t realise how the request would have come across to the Raen. The Lord Commander had recently been made aware of his… promiscuous work, but had not considered that his request to meet with a Warrior of Light in private may imply he wished to pay for such work.
Not that he was going to complain at the sight of Kamui leaning towards the mirror of the rooms dresser, carefully applying a dark lip rouge while a gossamer gown (the same signature blue that found itself into Aymeric’s own wardrobe) made a poor attempt to conceal the sight of snow white lingerie beneath. How could he complain at a sight that took his breath away. At a sight that made him wonder if he had stumbled his way into Halone’s Halls while trying to do his duty. Thankfully he kept just enough of his wits to finish entering the room and shutting the door behind him (albeit with perhaps a bit too much force than he intended).
Unfortunately however, what little remaining function his brain had was lost as Kamui rose from his chair and walked towards him exuding pure confidence.
The Raen stopped less than an arm's length away, tilting his head in mild curiosity, long hair following the movement as the strap of leather that had been barely holding it together fell to the floor. “Well then, you wished to see me in private did you not? But it seems if you leave now you may be unsatisfied…” a carefully manicured nail traced along the edge of the clasp to his coat. If Kamui’s appearance, words, or actions had yet to stupify Aymeric, then the heady scent of jasmine and mulled wine sure would.
Aymeric opened his mouth to speak, yet not even a stammer could pass his drying lips. He tried to look away, at anything but Kamui, yet his gaze never strayed for long.
Aymeric de Borel, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, was trapped by one of the Warriors of Light with no chance of escape.
And there was nowhere else he would rather be.