I swore I was just helping raise our daughter

The dust and the morning sunlight made the stable feel timeless, golden, and secret. Lara's breath still mingled with Sarisa's as they broke apart from the kiss—her heart pounding, every nerve alive and sparking.

The memory of the night before pressed into her skin, the ache of longing no less urgent in the new day.

But Sarisa wasn't moving away. She looked up at Lara, cheeks flushed, lips parted, breathless with want. The faint sound of distant voices drifted from the paddock. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Sarisa's hand slid down to Lara's waist, and her voice was a whisper thick with mischief. "You know there are probably a dozen stablehands out there, right?"

Lara's answering grin was slow, wolfish, and shameless. "If you stay quiet, they'll never know."

Sarisa arched a brow, but Lara could see the answer in her eyes before she heard it. "Is that a challenge, General?"

Lara bent and nipped at Sarisa's jaw, her hands already working the buttons of Sarisa's riding jacket. "Everything with you is a challenge, Princess."

Sarisa huffed, but her hands were at Lara's belt now, deft and hungry, tugging her close until their hips pressed together, heat flaring where their bodies met.

Lara's back pressed against the wooden stall wall, the roughness of the boards biting into her shoulder blades as Sarisa leaned in, urgent and insistent.

Lara's hands roamed beneath the edges of Sarisa's shirt, her fingertips tracing the map of golden tattoos over warm, flushed skin.

Sarisa was trembling—either with laughter or anticipation, Lara couldn't tell, but gods, she loved both.

Just as she began to slip her hand further, Sarisa paused, lips against Lara's ear. "Wait. Are you actually carrying one of those magic condoms with you?"

Lara grinned into her hair. "Maybe."

"Lara!" Sarisa was half laughing, half scandalized. "When did you—how did you even—"

"Details," Lara murmured, fishing the tiny silver-etched packet from her uniform pocket. "I just had a feeling I'd need it for you. Call it bodyguard's intuition."

Sarisa rolled her eyes, but she was already working Lara's trousers open, her breath hot against Lara's neck. "You're impossible. Irresponsible, too."

"Says the princess seducing her guard in a royal stable," Lara shot back, her voice low and teasing.

"Shut up," Sarisa whispered, grinning, and pulled Lara's mouth back to hers.

They tumbled backward into the shadows of the empty stall, the soft rustle of hay cushioning their landing.

Lara shucked her trousers, yanking them down to her thighs, and Sarisa's hands were everywhere—sliding beneath her shirt, pushing the fabric aside, nails scratching lightly over Lara's chest and stomach.

Lara's fingers found the hem of Sarisa's breeches and tugged them down. For a wild moment, they were both half-dressed, breathless, and frantic, desperate for more.

The risk, the secrecy, made everything sharper—the faint clatter of a bucket outside, a soft whinny, Sarisa's barely-stifled gasp when Lara rolled them so Sarisa straddled her thighs.

Lara ripped open the condom, her hands only shaking a little, and she rolled it on, her eyes never leaving Sarisa's face. The flush on her cheeks, the hunger in her gaze—Lara wanted to drown in it.

Sarisa settled herself over Lara, biting her own lip to keep from moaning too loud as Lara's hands guided her down, slow and deliberate. The sensation stole both their breath.

Lara clung to Sarisa's hips, guiding her with a grip that was almost reverent. They rocked together, the world narrowing to the press of skin on skin, the mingled rhythm of their movements, the rush of pleasure that built and built, impossibly sweet and tense.

"Lara, gods—" Sarisa hissed, and Lara reached up, pressing a hand over her mouth, grinning as Sarisa laughed into her palm.

"Quiet," Lara teased, hips bucking up, "unless you want the whole royal staff to see exactly what a mess I can make of their princess."

Sarisa's eyes flashed, defiant. She rode Lara harder, hands clutching at her shoulders, each thrust sending a shudder up Lara's spine.

The rough straw, the risk of discovery, the heat—everything blurred together.

When Sarisa started to come, her body spasming around Lara, she bit down on Lara's shoulder to muffle the sound, and Lara nearly lost control at the shock of pain and pleasure tangled together.

"Fuck—" Lara gasped, the word half a groan, half a laugh. "You're going to be the death of me."

Sarisa's lips traced Lara's jaw, her tongue flicking at Lara's earlobe. "Not until you make me come again."

They barely stopped.

Lara rolled Sarisa over, pinning her to the straw, bracing herself with one arm as she thrust deeper, harder, each movement calculated to drag another whimper from Sarisa's lips.

Sarisa's legs wrapped around her waist, heels digging into Lara's back, head tipped back in abandon.

Lara slowed, then quickened again, drawing out the tension until Sarisa was writhing, clawing at Lara's arms, her moans muffled in Lara's neck.

A loose board creaked outside; they both froze, listening, hearts pounding—but then the sound faded, and Lara couldn't help but laugh, delirious with adrenaline and need.

"Still want to stay quiet, Princess?"

"Do your worst," Sarisa dared, but she was trembling, eyes fever-bright.

Lara did, bringing her to the edge again, this time with her fingers pressed between Sarisa's thighs, rubbing small tight circles, her mouth finding Sarisa's breasts, biting softly at the peak until Sarisa came again, her whole body arching beneath Lara's.

Lara followed, her own climax crashing through her, biting her lip to keep from roaring her triumph to the rafters.

When it was over, they lay tangled in the straw, both shaking with laughter and spent nerves.

Sarisa caught her breath, staring at the beams overhead. "If you ever tell anyone about this—"

Lara nuzzled her neck, smug. "You'll what? Throw me in the dungeon?"

Sarisa laughed, rolling her eyes. "I'll make you write all my speeches for a year."

"Gods, have mercy," Lara groaned, kissing her again, quick and hungry.

They dressed in a rush, giggling, Lara disposing of the condom with a bit of magic, hands still shaking. They straightened each other's jackets, wiping straw from their hair, faces flushed and eyes bright.

Sarisa fixed her hair, glancing at Lara with mock sternness. "Do you always carry a condom, or just when you're around me?"

Lara grinned, shrugging. "Only when I'm around trouble."

Sarisa reached for her hand, squeezing it, her voice suddenly soft. "You're my favorite kind of trouble."