𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝: 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧 ...... 𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 ....
still painted to the base of his neck, the second is stripped bare as lucifer intended. the alpha ghoul radiates a nice heat that soothes his old, aching, & inherently cold bones... quelling his desire to seek out an outlet, to work off his post show adrenaline. perhaps with a night on the town... or a female, from the audience. not always so easy, as looking a woman’s way. though if she’s worthy of his presence, she’ll follow.. yet his mind strays far from such things, as the cherry of his cigarette burns low betwixt his fingers. the soft & perpetual furrow of a muted brow illuminated by the dim lamplight, from the far side by the door. facing the ghoul, who’s back is turned to him. tendrils broken by a large plume expelled from his lungs, & into the atmosphere. thick smell clinging to the afterglow of their session. he inhales through his nostrils, as his head turns minutely - his eyes carrying his gaze over, to inspect the creature. there are times in this new coupling, where secundo has come to learn that the fire ghoul is not always so affectionate after they fuck one another. & it’s just as well, for him not to push it. he’s not exactly a physically expressive lover - especially when there are implications. knowing, that this will happen again. but... with a blink, he’s staring down at the ember. drawing from it again, before craning over the ashtray for a moment. throwing the remainder away, to burn out on it’s own. the smoke still rising, it mingles & curles amongst it’s dancing, yet intangible forms. simultaneously parting his lips, just enough to push the remainder from between them in a thin, wavering stream. angelo lets himself stare at the other down his curved beak, for a few moments.. stewing in his vulnerability for those moments, before rolling onto his side. slight chest slotting up against alpha, & allowing the side of his face to come up, & overlap dewdrop’s head. he blinks, before he gracefully brings his arm up. sliding his long, defined fingers along the bare lines of his waist. just along the bone, there. he’s careful, & experimental. as if all of his attention were focused on this act, alone.. brow still knitted, his hips hovering just over the small swell of his backside. leaving the demon room, as to not hinder his tail. extending the option of such contact, to come from the loyal guitarist himself. frowning, idly, the papa continues to stroke two fingers along the contours of his midsection.. wordless, as none have yet been required.. eyes lidded near closed, in his admiration. waiting, almost, for the gnashing of teeth to begin.
@emehritus / / big spoon, little spoon.
