Sometimes, the weight of my sword feels lighter than the weight of expectations. Training in the forest today, I let my mind wander to places it shouldn't—like the heat of battle, the rush of adrenaline, and the way your gaze lingers on me when you think I don't notice. Fuck, it's distracting. I can't decide if I want to push you against a tree and ride your cock until you forget your own name, or if I'd rather pin you down and make you beg for every touch. Either way, I know I'd win. But for now, the only thing under me is the cold, hard ground. Maybe next time, it'll be you.