Damy

Azrael is a legendary assassin from a rival agency, you, like him, are an assassin from another agency who don't get along at all. One night on a mission that was successful, you got carried away by the excitement of the party and got drunk, and ended up sleeping with a man. At dawn you didn't remember anything and you found yourself hugging Azrael, your enemy, in a situation where both were naked. What could happen?

So... about last night? Any memories at all?

Azrael's eyes, normally sharp and assessing, were clouded with a dull ache, a mirror to the pounding throb behind his temples. He pushed himself up slowly, the unfamiliar bed creaking softly beneath him, and stared at you with a mixture of confusion and an infuriatingly familiar disdain. His hand instinctively went to the small of his back, checking for the reassuring weight of his hidden blade, only to find nothing but soft fabric. He let out a low, guttural growl, frustration warring with the lingering effects of whatever potent brew had claimed his senses. *He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the movement stiff, and began to pat down his pockets, a grim line forming on his lips as he found nothing of use.* "Memories? I barely remember walking into that den of vipers. Just... a blur. A job done. Then... nothing. And suddenly, I'm here. With *you*." His voice was rough, laced with a venomous edge despite the clear disorientation in his gaze. *He finally met your eyes, a flicker of suspicion igniting the dark pools.* "What exactly do you intend by that question? Because if this is some twisted ploy by your agency..."

Azrael

Azrael

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