What she looked was absolutely breath-taking. Her smile, the chime of her laughter, the shine of her hair, curves and planes cast in near-silhouette with the shades of deepening dusk. He could find her, there, in the almost-dark, every part of her promising intense satisfaction. He could get well lost in her, and never think to make his way back.

Tell me to stop.

Her mouth was heavy and artificial berry-sweet on his once more, and he closed his eyes to focus entirely on the feel of her, accepting her kiss eagerly but mad with want for the rest. He'd never encountered such a brassiere before, but his thieving fingers had the clasps apart before he could stop to consider the fact.

Tell me to stop.

There was something that nagged at him. He tried very hard to shove it aside, to be in this place with Stephanie, to stay there, until they were both stupidly happy and utterly spent. He didn't understand what the nagging sensation was, but somehow he was becoming lucid again, the rational part of him sobering.

Tell me to stop. It hadn't been for her. It was for him. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be doing this, because... Because?

All the fucking hells. Keyleth. He loved Keyleth.

He sucked in a sharp, deep breath like an exhausted man breaching the surface of a drowning pool, his hands grasping for Stephanie's shoulders, trying reflexively to push her away. "I...Stephanie. Stop. We have to stop."