Bonus Chapter: Kitchen Devotion

The kitchen was quiet in the early hours of the evening, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the stillness. A faint trace of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with Diana’s familiar scent of lavender and nightshade.

Beckett stood by the counter, gloved hands resting near the edge, mask still in place, posture composed as ever.

Diana entered without a word.

He noticed immediately.

He always did.

“My prince,” she murmured, voice low, controlled.

Beckett exhaled softly.

She stepped closer, fingers tracing down his chest, deliberate, unhurried. Her presence filled the space, quiet but commanding, until his stillness shifted—not resistance, but anticipation.

“You’ve been patient,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

He didn’t answer.

He never needed to.

She then proceeds to unzip his pants and admire the view in front of her. “i never get tired looking at this 6 inch piece of perfection” she says.

The moment deepened in silence.

Diana’s movements were precise, intentional—every gesture guided by control, by familiarity, by the unspoken rhythm they had long since mastered. Beckett’s breath hitched once, then steadied, his gloved hands tightening ever so slightly against the counter as he surrendered to her lead.

Time stretched.

Not rushed.

Never rushed.

Only the quiet exchange of trust, of devotion, of something far deeper than the surface of the moment.

When she finally rose again, she adjusted her blouse as if nothing had happened—composed, elegant, entirely in control.

A faint, satisfied smirk crossed her lips.

“Mm,” she said lightly, almost teasing, “still just as good as my morning coffee.”

Beckett flushed beneath his mask, shoulders easing as he exhaled.

Diana leaned in, tugging gently at his scarf, pulling him just close enough. Her lips brushed against the edge of his mask before nudging it aside just enough for a proper kiss—slow, intimate, deliberate.

A shared breath.

A quiet, grounding connection.

“Always worth it,” she added softly.

Beckett’s voice came low, steady, devoted. “My mistress…”

She smiled faintly, resting her forehead briefly against his.

“Good,” she whispered.

From the hallway, two small figures paused.

Peresphone sighed. “Kitchen this time.”

Hades nodded. “Efficient use of space.”

They turned and walked away without another word.

In the kitchen, Diana adjusted Beckett’s scarf once more, smoothing it into place like nothing had happened at all.

Everything was composed again.

Controlled.

Perfect.

And in the quiet intimacy of that moment—

They both knew exactly what it meant.