to say that this totally blew would be an understatement. more than an understatement, actually. there simply werenât enough words let alone languages on the planet to properly express just how much of a let down it all was. because, upon having received a formal not so much of an invite since he overheard it in passing invite to his buddyâs secret little randevu that same morning, alexius had otherwise went off, to get any preparations and or necessary purchases out of the way for such a special event. retro visor wrap sunglasses? found in all seven elevenâs this side of the west coast. a classic fold up chair? taken right out of his neighbors yard. killer stuart hughes diamond edition suit? been packed away in his closet for this very occasion. he even put each and every one of his fruity multi-colored snacks through a full fledged election to see which would come out on top and be the lucky treat he munched on while it all went down. all in all? he got everything done in record timing. or he would have. if he hadnât decided at the last minute to go off and buy himself a jumbo bag of tropical skittles instead.
â what is this, the credits roll? donât tell me i missed it? â the inquiries posed, were really anything but. each being more of an observed factual statement spoken to himself rather than anything else. because what with all the torn clothes that were on the floor just scattered about, not to mention the sweaty flesh that was drying up to a â weâre not horny anymore â degree, said point was made evidently clear at least ten times over    if the burly woman who seemed to be coming off of her high, trying to get her bearings and panting for her very life, wasnât enough to do so already. â i mean, the skittles, man. i was fiddling with the bagâŠ.. â he managed to take his eyes off of a very naked azazel ( sure the meat suit didnât even remotely compare to the horrifically glorious perfection of the monster below the surface but he had to admit it was pretty ) to look down and marvel at the bag in his right hand. â itâs so crinkable. and red. â shaking his head from side to side, his rad shades move along with the motion, a long, exaggerated breath, slipping its way past his lips. â a classic design plucked straight from the first session of distraction 1o1. â he doesnât say anything else for a couple of seconds. nothing at all. he just stands there, staring at his bag of skittles. and then his attentions shift back to the other demon. he only took two, maybe three, steps forward, and his body was fully inside of the room; his fold up chair somehow already opened up and ready to go and his body seemingly had long since slumped right down into its plastic cushion. â just    go on, â his slender, lanky hand rose into the air while he continued to talk, only for his finger to start making a swift circular motion. almost like this was all actually some movie that he could literally pause, fast forward, and do whatever else, with just a few simple movements from his finger. whichâŠ. yeah. that was exactly what it was. â rewind it all back to the scene where the hunk, thatâs you, busts down the door only to proceed to woo the misses with the eloquent but steamy iâm here to mow your lawn bit. â
