[ Part of Navia would like very much to keep entertaining the thoughts of him in her collar, but admittedly she's quite easily distracted by the way his lips continue their path up her neck and to her ear as he strips her of her sweat-stained clothing.

He knows exactly the right things to say and do, fingers spreading over her cunt in a way that makes it flutter and pulse, makes her sigh a soft song of a moan into the air as her head tilts toward him, pupils wide with renewed pleasure. ]

Hah— mn, Your Grace, your lips and your fingers say two very different things. Are you getting the tea, or are you teasing me with those sinful fingers of yours?

[ Not that she is particularly opposed to either option, really, when both will result in the same thing given enough time. ]