But eventually, the night grew late and the temperature dropped. Satou stood, offering his hand to help Lyra up. "We should probably head back before everyone thinks we got eaten by dire wolves."

"Probably," Lyra agreed, taking his hand. But she made no move to return to the settlement. Instead, she looked at him with an expression that was both shy and determined. "Unless... I mean, your quarters are closer than mine. And it's late. And if we went back to mine, Jessica would definitely be there waiting to ask a million questions..."

She trailed off, her meaning clear but unspoken.

Satou's heart rate picked up. "Lyra, are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured—"

"I'm sure," she interrupted. "I asked for this date because I've been wanting to spend time with you like this for months. And now that we have... I don't want it to end yet. I want to keep spending time with you. In whatever way you're comfortable with."

Satou studied her face, seeing nothing but genuine desire and nervous hope. He squeezed her hand gently.

"Then let's go to my quarters," he said. "We can talk more, spend more time together, and see where the evening takes us. No pressure, no expectations. Just... us."

"Just us," Lyra agreed with a smile.

They walked back to the settlement together, hand in hand, neither quite believing how perfect the evening had been. The settlement was quiet now, most residents already in bed or in their homes for the night.

Satou's quarters were modest—a room in one of the earth-formed buildings he'd created, with a bed, a desk, some storage, and not much else. But it was private and comfortable.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the atmosphere shifted. They were alone, truly alone, with no eyes watching and no interruptions possible.

"So," Lyra said, suddenly nervous again. "Here we are."

"Here we are," Satou echoed.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, the tension building but not uncomfortable. Then Lyra closed the distance, wrapping her arms around Satou's neck and kissing him again, this time with more confidence and passion.

Satou responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, growing more heated as weeks of unspoken attraction finally found expression.

When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, Lyra looked up at him with eyes that held both desire and trust.

"I don't want to go back to my quarters tonight," she said directly. "I want to stay here. With you. Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Satou replied, his voice rough. "As long as you're absolutely sure this is what you want. I don't want you to regret this tomorrow."

"I won't," Lyra promised. "The only thing I'd regret is not taking this chance when I have it. I've spent so long being practical, being responsible, putting everyone else's needs first. Tonight, I want to be selfish. I want to be with you."

"Then stay," Satou said, kissing her again. "Stay with me tonight."

"I will," Lyra whispered against his lips. "I am."

The air in Satou's quarters was thick with a new kind of tension, a delicious, humming energy that seemed to amplify every sound: their ragged breaths, the rustle of clothing, the soft thud of Satou's back meeting the door as Lyra pressed into him.

Her kiss was no longer a question but a statement, hungry and insistent. Satou met her fervor, his hands sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard line of his arousal through their clothes, a thrilling confirmation of his desire that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly.

When they broke for air, foreheads resting together, Lyra whispered, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Neither do I," Satou admitted, his voice a husky rasp that vibrated through her. "But I really want to figure it out with you."

That admission, so honest and vulnerable, shattered her last remnants of nervousness. She smiled, a real, radiant smile. "Okay. Then let's figure it out."

He took her hand and led her the few steps to his bed, sitting her on the edge. He knelt before her, his eyes dark with want and something infinitely softer. "Can I take these off?" he asked, his fingers hovering at the buckle of her boots.

She nodded, her throat too tight for words. His touch was methodical, almost reverent, as he undid each buckle and gently pulled the leather from her feet. His thumb stroked the arch of her bare foot, and a shiver, completely unexpected, raced up her spine. He was worshiping her, starting from the ground up.

Emboldened, Lyra reached for the hem of his shirt. "Your turn." Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the fabric up and over his head, revealing a torso that was all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin from long days working outside. She let her palms flatten against his chest, feeling the crisp hair under her touch, the frantic beat of his heart beneath her right hand. So fast. For me.

Satou's breath hitched. "Your hands feel amazing."

"So does your skin," she murmured, leaning forward to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. She tasted the faint salt of his skin, felt the subtle jump of a muscle under her lips. He groaned, a low, deep sound that seemed to originate from somewhere primal within him.

His own hands came up to the fastenings of her tunic. "May I?"

"Please," she breathed.

His fingers, though calloused from labor, were impossibly gentle as he worked the clasps free. He pushed the fabric from her shoulders, revealing a simple linen chemise beneath. His gaze was a physical caress, hot and heavy, as it traveled over the thin cloth that did little to hide the peaked hardness of her nipples or the gentle curve of her breasts.

"You are so beautiful, Lyra," he said, the words filled with such awe it made her eyes sting.

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