It had all the makings of a trap.<br/><br/>No, not the silken-vise that she no doubt possessed between her thighs, but rather the simple notion that he was attracted to her in the least. It was as if she had mentally plucked one of the various weaknesses from Donovan's mind with some power he had not felt or seen. Yes, he had been attracted to Methuseld before this 'transformation' took place, and now that it had, was it simply coincidence that this darkly angelic version of Methuseld reminded him of her in so many ways?<br/><br/>Donovan tried to convince himself that he was thinking nonsense. Yes, she had transformed into an insanely enticing woman, but what man in his right mind -wouldn't- be enticed by her? Perhaps a man with more willpower, or a more pious man would be able to resist... and perhaps Donovan didn't fit either of those descriptions. Some would argue that such a notion would make Donovan very much 'un-knight-like', but as he had learned through the years, there were many different kinds of 'knights' in this world.<br/><br/>He was prepared for her rejection at any moment, whether by being truly insulted by his meager advances, or simply being uninterested, there were likely more reasons for her to refuse him than to accept him. Donovan assumed she was toying with him, possibly leading him right to the edge of pleasure with plans to cease and deny him - some women got a kick out of such antics. Donovan briefly recalled a time a harlot tried such a thing on Dean... Donovan had been too late to save her, and even to this day the knight wondered if that woman was yet able to walk normal again. A woman's body simply wasn't meant to -take- something of those dimensions...<br/><br/>His thoughts were interrupted by her throaty, husky moan. She was enjoying the feel of his magic at work, which he assumed she might like. Donovan figured at worst it would make her feel good, and perhaps warm her up for Aza's attentions, if that's where the dark woman's preferences truly lay, based on what he saw back on the chaos ship.<br/><br/>Dark Methuseld confirmed his idea - just to be safe, of course. He was so full of good ideas nowadays, it seemed, and he could almost picture Dean leaning against a rock in the nearby shadows as the sun faded, smirking at Donovan for his cheesy parlor tricks - and bad pick-up lines. Dean was the suave one when it came to women, after all. Donovan liked to think of himself as more... -practical-, even if he was much less experienced.<br/><br/>Her sweet voice gave him permission to remove the blocking garment so that he could continue his 'treatment' of her. Donovan didn't hesitate much, either. For all his practicality, if a beautiful woman gave him permission to remove her clothing - who was he to argue? He was certainly no church-boy, no matter how often Dean had teased him of such.<br/><br/>Big, careful hands moved smoothly, giving the needed attention to the big buckle at her groin. His eyes rose to meet hers, as if challenging her to stop him while his hands worked, and a heartbeat or two later, the buckle came undone. He hefted the belt to the side, her wicked looking blade scabbarded to it, setting it aside carefully so that it leaned against the rock upon which she sat. As he did so, she shifted to the side, the move showing off and accentuating the curve of her rump, and it took some amount of will to resist simply reaching for it. There, where the buckle had been moments ago, lay a small clasp - the last line of defense that kept what little clothing that she had left secured to her lower body.<br/><br/>Eyes rising back up to meet hers again, once more his hands moved, finding the clasp - and undoing it with the greatest efficiency. As his eyes remained on hers, the sudden thought came back to his mind not for the first time... was the -real- Methuseld -in there-? Could she -see- what was happening? And, more curiously... would she -feel- it, he wondered?<br/><br/>"Almost there," he whispered softly, tearing his eyes away from her for just a moment to cast a glance over at Aza, who seemed completely uninterested in them at the moment. His returned to her as his hand gently moved to pull away the last garment in his path.