Don't play with your food.
It was too hot in the ballroom. Too. bloody. hot.
Seriously... How could it be this stuffy in the North Pole? Aster pulled and tugged at his bow tie, his ears twitching against his back. The annual ball that Tooth hosted at her husbands workshop was crowded and loud, and Aster felt his antisocial demeanor twisting as he crowded closer to the wall.
He felt sweat sticking to his fancy.dress clothes, hand tailored by other spring faeries to fit his pooka form. It was suffocating him, these clothes, and the thoughts pooling in him. He could see Jack from where he was; could see his freshly pressed suit hugging his too thin frame. Aster couldn't help looking, enjoyed looking, really, and didn't regret it in the slightest.
Jack looked good.
Really good.
And the bulge in his pants.was proof that he enjoyed that, too.
Thus it being too hot in Winters core. Bloody tie....
Jack cast his gaze onto the Pooka, his lips falling into an easy smirk. His body language said it all, and his hungry eyes only solidified it... Jack knew. And he was playing with the Pooka.
