"Have you thought about what you'll do?" Adrielle asks, running her fingers through Calliope's hair. Man cannot be permitted to live, not after everything that has happened. There's been so much pain and suffering that all she can do is try to ease it for Cal's sake. "If worst comes to worst."
Calliope clutches the sheets to her chest, stares at the wall as if Adrielle isn't there. Every thought running through her head asks 'why?', every shred of common sense tells her to get the fuck out of there. The half of her that is siren, however, yearns to stay. Cal wants to wrap herself around Adrielle, kiss her till she stops remembering what the former Queen has done. Fuck her till their thighs ache and they've long since passed the point of worrying about broken bones.
Finally, Cal says, "I'll do what I have to."
Adrielle nods in response and hooks one leg over Calliope's own, turns her head gently away from the wall so Adrielle can look into her eyes. She smiles and caresses the swell of Cal's breasts, runs her fingers over the black straps of her bra, grazes her thumb against the slight rise in the fabric where Calliope's nipple presses into the bra. "And I will be there when you need me."
I'll always need you. She groans, arching into Adrielle's touch, surrendering herself to the call that echoes in her ears. It's melodious and intoxicating; it stirs her towards an aching — almost painful — arousal, and Calliope can do nothing but answer it with her own.