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These two have been stuck in my brain since the game came out, I'm genuinely confused how I've never drawn a full illustration of them till now 💀💀💀💀
Robert is three beers and two shots in, flushing like a fire hydrant. He's never made his ancestry a secret, persay, but it's not like 'I've got the ALDH2 gene' is exactly fun party trivia.
There's a heat building against his chest and it's not entirely alcohol-induced. He flat out whines at the excessive warmth, making his skin tacky and his shirt damp. The moisture trails along his jawline and Robert vaguely registers the sensation of being humid and sticky.
He parts his gaze and stares at Flambae spilling out of his lap like a clingy golden retriever, unawares of just how big he is. 's cute and all but Robert feels disgusting.
"Can you don't?" he grumbles, grammatical coherency be damned.
Flambae lets out a low chuckle, breath hitched in offense. "What, you're not enjoying my company, Bob Bob? You don't even know how lucky you are."
Robert stares at him, the wrong head throbbing. Without a lick of self-preservation, he reaches out and pinches Flambae's nose.
Flambae squawks and swats his hand away, eliciting a snicker. Robert leans forward and rests his forehead against Flambae's shoulder, sighing as he drinks in the musk of his cologne. It's fucking hot and his dick thinks so, too.
Insistent hands grab at his shirt. Robert feels the rustle and pop of buttons. When Flambae peels him out of his uniform, Robert can do little more than pant for air. The heat is suffocating—Flambae runs his hands over scar tissue with such reverence that Robert shudders. Oh god. Stop, don't do this in public.
"Who gave you this one?"
"Huh?"
Flambae traces the outline of what resembles initials, frowning. "They carved into you like a tree." He cups Robert's chin and tilts his gaze so that he can't escape. "It's giving me ideas."
Robert stares at him dumbly. "Can't you just mark me up like a normie? My neck is right here—hhh..."
Flambae nips at him, suckles at his flesh, without reserve. Robert just shivers in the booth and takes it. (He has nothing to give, all he can do is take whatever comes his way.)
"Gonna make you mine tonight, Robert."
"Is that a promise? Or a threat...?"
Flambae starts straddling him properly and rolls his hips forward. Robert is very, very into it, in no uncertain terms.
"I can do both," Flambae grins. "For you? Always gonna be both, bitch."
Robert laughs airily. Oh, he is so fucked. "Lucky me."
