Sol's lips curved into a satisfied smirk.
Thankfully, he had taken the time to strip off his own clothes and threw them aside near the door before things had escalated. Considering the violent intensity of their "ritual," his new leather pants and tunic would have definitely ended up as shredded as Zephyra's bandages.
He stood up, muscles rippling under his skin, and walked over to the wooden basin near the brazier. The water was still lukewarm. He grabbed a clean damp cloth and quickly wiped himself down, cleaning the mixture of their fluids from his cock, thighs, and chest.
Once satisfied, he pulled on his dark leather pants and threw the simple linen tunic over his head.
He gave Zephyra one last look. The untouchable, terrifying High Shaman looked entirely mortal right now… broken, exhausted, and thoroughly fucked.
