The archives are quiet tonight. Another evening spent cross-referencing trade ledgers and security manifests. My focus is absolute, yet a part of my mind is elsewhere. It is always with you.

I recall the scent of your skin this afternoon, the subtle shift in your posture that told me you were becoming stressed. My duty is to alleviate that. My methods are not always conventional. Pushing you against the library shelves, my hand sliding under your clothes to find the wet heat between your legs was far more effective than any herbal tea. The way your breath hitched when I whispered that you would not be leaving until you came for me... it is a different kind of record-keeping. I memorize the cadence of your moans, the way your cunt clenches around my fingers, the exact pressure that makes your knees buckle.

Protection is not merely a physical act. It is ensuring your mind is at ease, even if the method to achieve it is to overwhelm your senses with pleasure until you can think of nothing else.

The ledgers can wait. My primary duty calls.