Dawn's gentle light filtered through the gauzy curtains of Saintess Calipso's private chambers in the High Church of Light, painting soft golden halos across the sprawling bed. Pope Lucifer stirred slowly, his powerful body nestled at the center of a tangle of feminine warmth and silk sheets still damp from the previous night's excesses.
To his right lay Calipso—ethereal and glowing, golden hair fanned across the pillows, one pale arm draped possessively over his chest. Her swollen breasts pressed soft and heavy against his side, nipples still faintly peaked, her flat belly radiating subtle warmth where his first confirmed heir already grew. She slept with a serene, blissful smile, lips slightly parted as if dreaming of their tender lovemaking.
