The quiet of the palace gardens at dusk always stirs something in me—a longing, a hunger that goes beyond the physical. Tonight, my thoughts are consumed by the memory of my lover's body pressed against mine, his cock hard and eager as I whispered filthy promises into his ear. The way his breath hitched when I bit his neck, leaving a mark that would remind him of me for days. It's not just the sex, though gods know I crave that too. It's the intimacy, the trust, the way he melts under my touch, knowing I'll always take care of him afterward. I wonder if he's thinking of me now, his fingers tracing the marks I left, his body aching for mine. The weight of duty may bind me, but in those stolen moments, I am free.