(Difficult to discern text is clarified in the * footnotes.)
All around him the music pounded, bodies in motion to its heavy, dominating beat. The flickering lights of the fire room danced over bare flesh that was bowed as people tangled themselves in one another. Across the room he could pick out the familiar swell of Cythion’s broad back, perfectly accessorized by the pair of hooves kicked up to rest on the kaldorei’s shoulders. It was good to see him having fun.
Celedyn pushed himself up to sit on the stage, enjoying the higher vantage point. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. The night had progressed into full swing, the earlier drift of curious tourists and people who wanted just a little sample of what a spicier evening could look like had already wandered in for their bit of fun and then back out again and by now the people left in the room were those ready to play.
Well, maybe not that one. His eyes found Lance’s pale shape tucked in the shadowy corners, as delicately sculpted as a string of lilies of the valley and for all the world looking like he was determined to stay exactly where he was rooted. Maybe it was those curling horns that made him so stubborn... Or maybe he just liked to watch, the pretty little pervert.
A sudden flash of white hot pain shocked him out of his thoughts with a sharp yelp. He jolted, one hand moving to cover the fresh red stripe on his ass and twisted, his expression scandalized only to find Dice grinning down at him, the offending fire whip in hand. The sindorei’s voice was deep and unmistakably amused as he chastised the other elf “The stage is for performers only.”
“I AM a performer!” Celedyn shot back, with a huff. He gave a grand gesture that swept the length of his body up to proudly lifted chin “Everything about this is a performance.” He stuck out his tongue as he uncapped his bottle of water, taking a swallow to refresh his dignity. Out in the crowd he spotted Leon, his expression blissfully adrift as the woman he had left the Gilnean with finally lifted herself up enough to grant him fresh air. “You know, I think you’ve got the very best view in all of the room and here you are, refusing to share it!”
With another flick of the wrist and the heavy sound of leather dragging through air the bottle was gone from Celedyn’s hand. Not shattered, but snatched away by the sudden rush of heat from the fire whip. Dice caught it neatly, draining it as he sauntered to the front of the stage to return the empty vessel to the squinting elf. “The stage is for performances only.” His lips spread in a warm smirk as he rolled his weight to one hip, one brow arching. “So perform.”
Celedyn didn’t need anything more than the mere suggestion before he merrily snatched up the opportunity for attention, tucking one leg beneath himself to shift closer. He started in low, nose brushing at a knee, blue eyes flicking up to meet Dice’s face before his lips parted and he seductively dragged his tongue up a well muscled thigh. He only got half way through his swipe before the the taste struck him and he froze in place, eyes instantly showing regret.
Without hesitation, Dice covered for the pause, reaching down to take a stern grip on the high elf’s platinum locks. Contained laughter sparkled in his eyes “Not what you were expecting?”
Celedyn’s tongue was still out, remaining in place as though he’d stuck it to a frozen street light. “Ah thoud id would be thwead.” *
“Would sweat have been that much better?”
“Ah need the elegdrolides. Thome BILLAIN thtole muh dring!” **
Dice dragged him back with a warm chuckle as the high elf regretfully drew his tongue back into his mouth. Cele kept his face soft and rapt for the crowd, but the other elf could see the distaste in his intense, prolonged eye contact as he swallowed the mouthful of oil.
Dice’s gaze slipped away just a moment before returning to watch Celedyn’s face. The sindorei’s voice was low, private “Are you sure you want to stay up on this stage? The performances get pretty heated.” His eyes held a deep, meaningful intensity as he watched the high elf’s face.
“If I leave right now I expect you to call the Kirin’Tor and have the sayaad taking my extraordinarily attractive form arrested immediately.” He grinned, but that stare remained. Celedyn paused, licking his lips before giving a simple, confident “Yes.”
So slight that it may be missed were the two not so close, a line of tension unknotted and relaxed in Dice’s shoulders. He stood up to his full height once more and looked out into the crowd, giving a subtle tip of his jaw before stepping away.
Celedyn turned, blue eyes scanning over the room, trying to follow who the Sindorei had motioned to, and why. Deep in the recesses of the VIP section, he spotted the lady of the hour herself. Vixannya sat as poised and elegant as ever as she surveyed the room. Another woman might have lost their composure that way; breasts covered only by Sera’s hands, partially obscured by an perfectly shaped ass that he would recognize as Ryland’s at 200 paces, but she looked what could only be described as pleased.
The high elf was brought back to the moment by the sudden whoosh of the whip before the heat curled around him and dragged him upstage.
The foot placed squarely on his chest pushed him flat on his back and the stern look from the sindorei kept him there. The whip’s heat flickering out as it dropped from its master’s hand, trapped under the high elf and keeping his arms pinned close to his sides. He huffed with indignation but Dice could see him easily recover; the way his spine arched slightly up off the floor, long legs arranging themselves elegantly, ever aware of the visual he presented for his audience.
Cele’s head turned as he spotted motion to his side, eyes briefly lighting as he recognized Cy, only to widen as he noticed what the Kaldorei was handing off. Dice held the candelabra aloft, sauntered the edge of the stage, his steps sure and powerful. He grinned as he turned back to see the high elf’s attention rapt, his breath heavy, his cock shamelessly hard.
The first hot touch of wax had him gasping, arching at the sudden spike of adrenaline that pierced right through the front of his skull. Dice moved quickly, precisely, letting dribbles spatter across his chest and shoulders like freckles on sun kissed skin; only relenting and lifting the candelabra when he decided it needed a bit more time to melt, dropping down to one knee to sensually run his hands over his work.
The bound elf writhed, pressing back into his palms. Celedyn’s stomach flexed as he lifted up, tried for a kiss, but was pushed right back down again with a soft, frustrated grunt. The next place the wax struck was his belly, sensitive skin jumping as each drop fell. He teased, letting a trail drizzle along the crease of the iliac furrows that the high elf so frequently gloated about, adding just a bit here and there until he could see fear start to rise up in those eyes, the breath freeze in his chest as he grew precariously close to that neglected length, threatening to give it more attention than it could handle.
He waited until Celedyn seemed just about ready to jump out of his skin before hauling him up to kneel, kicking his knees apart to make sure the audience got the full view. The whip slouched down uselessly, but by now he was quite certain the other elf wasn’t going anywhere, blue eyes hazy and watching him dance like he was the only thing in the room.
Celedyn’s long legs made for dramatic trails of the hot wax, the candles carefully angled to first create a wall, the position just so before a second pass sent rivulets down his inner thighs and broke a lusty cry from painted lips. He took advantage of it, gripping the high elf’s hair and swallowing that moan with a rough, possessive kiss.
Celedyn’s arms wrapped his shoulders and a moment later Dice was hauling him up and off his feet, giving his ass a lascivious squeeze as he finally broke the kiss with a smile that had melted a thousand hearts. Smoothly he walked to the edge of the stage and knelt, passing the still dazed man down to Cythion before retrieving his whip, the flame crackling back to life as he gave it a hearty snap.
Still half dazed, Celedyn caught the eye of Sindorei woman who’d been enjoying their spectacle from the front row. Nova’s smirk widened just a bit as he gave her a little wiggling wave of his fingers and she raised her glass as though offering him a toast. He grinned and tucked himself into Cy’s familiar warmth. “Have you come to volunteer to clean me up, kitten?”The high elf’s voice was rough with lust, his hands sliding over the Kaldorei’s shoulder like ivy attempting to swallow a castle wall.
Cythion grinned down at him; “I’ve come to volunteer to mess you up.”
*********
* ”I thought it would be sweat.”
** “I need the electrolytes. Some VILLAIN stole my drink!”
“You gotta have boundaries, darling. Everyone pays. Everyone.” Rimath tapped a fingertip on the felted tabletop. A gold ring gave a muted glint in the dim candlelight. “Even I pay my entry!” His smile was disarming and his voice was just a note too loud--and on this obvious cue, the bartender polishing his glass nodded with a grunt. Rimath didn’t even look back, but this was obviously a familiar and rehearsed exchange.
Maths’ audience gave him a baffled look in return. The draenei was pretty and she clearly expected to sneak her entry fee off on someone else. Or to use her decolletage to distract from the absence of gold deposited. Rimath would never be distracted. He tapped his finger again, looking over the rest of the smoky bar. Her perfectly painted pout complimented a soft huff as she reached for a small bag. She paid.
Poker, cigars, bets, laughter, and booze. It was a good night. He won more than he lost. Easy made her way in, fashionably late as usual. She slid into a newly open seat at the table, next to Maths, nodding at the others. Dealt in without word, Rimath was surprised when the player from earlier pointed tapped her lacquered nail on the felt top with a flat look at Maths.
“Oh, well, she makes her ~own~ boundaries. I don’t question her.” He never even looked at Easy, still smiling at the woman across from him. “You can,” his voice dropped and his gaze widened a little, “if you want.” His ears flicked back a little. Yikes!
At the table, there was only the noise of the cards as they were dealt; otherwise, it was silent as the women stared each other down. Without asking, without looking, Easy reached over and took a stack of Rimath’s chips and dropped them into the pot.
The draenei and Easy grinned at each other with a light in each of their eyes. Neither of them looked at Maths much the rest of the night.
~~
He lost more than he won by the end of the night, but he was tipsy and feeling cheerful as he walked their glasses back to the bar--only the slightest slur, only the hint of a shuffle. “Oh! Hey, Easy! Have you heard my latest statistics joke?”
“…Probably.”
“Prob--Hey! That’s my line!” Maths grunted and set the cups down, giving the tauren behind the bar as long-suffering look, seeking commiseration.
@daily-writing-challenge
@rimath (Maths) and @aezeira (Easy)
Pollux stood at attention, unnaturally blue eyes following the General as the older man paced back and forth in front of him. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen the man this torn; there was a mix of annoyance, pride, and confusion all rolled into one facial expression. If he didn’t know any better, he probably would have laughed.
“At ease, Hale.”
Pollux’s posture loosened just a little bit as he scratched at the burnt sleeves of his uniform, causing another chunk of the blackened material to flake off and float to the ground. He looked, for lack of a better phrase, a hot mess. Literally. Skin and hair coated with soot and ash, and uniform completely tattered and crisped up by what appeared to be fire. It was a wonder how this man had escaped any sort of bodily harm with…whatever had happened to him.
“You were ordered to evacuate from Loamm after we got the call that Fyrakk was on his way.”
“Yes, I was.”
“But you were seen repeatedly running back in. Is that true?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
The General stared at him, clearly awaiting some sort of explanation.
“Sir, I knew I could help more of the inhabitants of the city make it to safety, so I made the choice to do so.” Better to ask for forgiveness than to get permission.
“-While- Fyrakk was blasting the entire place with shadowflame. Do you have a death wish, Hale?”
Pollux hesitated a moment. Did he? He was often the one that did all the ‘brave’ heroics, landing him with a half-prosthetic body in the process and a multitude of stories where he should have died - and some where he did die. “Sir, I had a hunch that I would be immune to the shadowflame.”
“A hunch. So you ran into the flaming building on a hunch.”
“Yes, Sir.” He balled up his non-prosthetic hand, feeling a familiar burn from the sigil branded onto his palm about a decade ago after an unexpected trip to Helheim.
“Are you going to elaborate on that?”
“Magic, Sir.” It was easier than saying that he had been blessed by the Vrykul after surviving Helheim and unknowingly made into one of their Berserkers. At least that was his running theory.
Magic was always the simplest explanation; a lot could be done with magic, including shielding oneself from fire for a short period of time. Although this hadn’t been a short period of time, and the shadowflame had most definitely touched his bare skin. Yet here he was, with not even one hair atop his head harmed. How strange it was to now be immune to the one thing that had taken so much from him in the past. And maybe that’s why he had become so willing to jump head first into these dangers; he had a vendetta to settle.
The General’s expression softened, the two always had a good rapport so Pollux knew he wouldn’t be in trouble for too long. Especially since his actions had ended up saving many innocent lives. “Alright Hale. Go get cleaned up and for fuck sake put on a new uniform, you look like shit. You’re going into Aberrus with us.”
Xylaes had never explicitly asked Garren for his forgiveness, they both knew it wasn’t that simple, nor was it something to be forced. Theirs had always been a complicated and rocky relationship, and would likely remain that way for years, or even decades to come. Yet Garren couldn’t help but feel a deep yearning for that familial bond.
He absolutely loved being out on his own, especially after largely being ignored by his guardians for the past handful of years. Feeling like a burden for that long had taken a toll on his self worth, and seeking to gain that back through menial jobs and random flings was not fixing that which had been broken. Not that he had expected it would; slapping a bandaid over a gaping wound would never be enough and the lackadaisical lifestyle would have to end at some point if he ever wanted to move forward.
But he was still young, and had plenty of time to figure out his path. He should be out partying, enjoying his freedoms, and not having a care in the world. Right? Then why did he still feel so empty most of the time?
The idea had been stirring in the back of his mind for a while now, and it felt like the only path forward at this point. He had even voiced the topic a couple times to see if it was an option, and was told that it wasn’t impossible. That had firmly planted the seed, and now he couldn’t escape the thought. He had to go to Maldraxxus. He had to see his mother. Had to talk to her, to hug her, to tell her how much he misses her even though he had never really known her. Maybe then he could forgive his father. Maybe then he could finally let go of all this pent-up anger and hatred and start over with Xylaes.
He so desperately wanted to bond with the older man, to be a part of a family again. They had both been through so much and while Xylaes had seemed to have found his peace with the situation, Garren couldn’t get there just yet and wasn’t certain that time was the answer.
He had convinced himself that he needed this.
Xylaes would hate the idea of Garren going into Maldraxxus, and at first he had thought not to tell him his plans at all. But surely he would help if it meant their relationship could finally heal, and Xylaes seemed to have powerful connections. He owed him this. Even though his mother didn’t want him to visit, Xylaes wouldn’t tell him no after he pleads his case. Callia would understand too once she saw him, and then they could be a family for the first time ever.
They all needed this.
It would fix everything.
He picked up his comm and looked at the stack of messages Xylaes had sent with no response from Garren himself. After some brief back and forth in his mind, he typed and sent a message: ‘I wanna come back to the merc camp, can you meet me in Valdrakken?’
Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together.
Pyraelia’s mantra repeated steadily in her thoughts as her skates carried her across the ice lake in the Upper Frostlands. Any other time this would have been idyllic, but she had been given a task.
Choking ash covered her goggles and hair, blotting out her vision as she sped along — not that it mattered too much, she trusted the aerial mages that drifted behind her on discs, covering her from Zaqali and Tarasek interference. She heard, and felt, the crack before it became visible to anyone else. The echo of the schism creaked and pealed loudly, announcing its presence.
Keep it together.
The resonant vibration of the fracture was stronger in her left skate, so she skidded, kicking up a superficial puff of frost and turned to run a couple of steps before sliding back into the effortless, speedier glide that the magic blades on her boots gave her.
Keep it together.
As much as she had always excelled at arcane magic, the finer delicacies of cryomancy, frost magic, had always been her first love. She dragged her glove across the glass of her goggles to clear them of the fine ash so she could see the jagged thrust fault that had formed in the weakening surface of the great lake. It was small, for now, but only because Team Floe had it under control.
It was their job to keep it together.
She gathered her magic around her, tapping into the threads of the rich ley pockets that had formed in the Span, and channeled through her staff to bind the surface layer of ice back together and further fuse the meters below that she couldn’t see.
There were dozens of them weaving their way through the errant combatants, maintaining the surface of the sudden battlefield that was constantly being stressed and pocked by a constant barrage of shadowflame. Sure, it made occasional sense to let it thin out enough for one of the flame giants to fall through, but Khadghar had stressed that too much damage risked the full integrity of the river and if it all gave way, everything to the west and south — Camp Antonidas, Camp Nowhere, and the Iskaaran hunting settlements that had been there for a long time — risked a terrible flood.
A scream of terror from behind her being cut off by a sickening crunch made her whirl around just in time to see one of her aerial support members, Hannele, a human woman she’d only met earlier in the day, being snapped up by the jaws of one of the primal nightflames that were a constant threat in the skies.
Even as her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the brutality of the other woman’s death, she didn’t have time to stop. With no rider, the flying disk’s magic sputtered out in midair and the forward momentum now meant it was careening quickly toward the ground in her direction.
Keep it together.
Pyraelia reached out with her prosthetic arm and flung a slow-fall spell out to catch it. Pollux had made the internal structure and surface plates of the custom piece with a metal that was strong enough to withstand most damage, light enough to not be a bother, but also with innate qualities that enhanced arcane spells.
It was a relief that the flying disk wouldn’t harm anyone, but this was a battle, and she had a task. She almost heard the shouted “Look out!” from above her too late, and on instinct she raised her prosthetic hand up to catch the Zaqali club swinging down at her.
She felt the immediate crush of contact all the way up into the integrated joint housing that had been built into her shoulder to allow the prosthetic to attach on and down into her knees and ankles as the magic skate blades buckled into the ice below her. The arm, though heavily damaged, had held and protected her from what would’ve otherwise been a devastating injury.
Pyraelia howled, angry for her dead colleague and at the audacity of the giant who had attacked her and called the ice and frost to her. Jagged, razor sharp spikes burst forth from the lake’s surface and pushed her back, ass over teakettle into a nearby snow drift.
Adrenaline sung in her pounding heart as she shoved herself back up. Another audible, eerie ring of thick ice rang out nearby.
Keep it together.
Her prosthetic fingers stuttered as she tried to flex them, and the elbow joint refused to respond.
Keep it together.
She took a calming breath and re-cast her magic skates. Pollux would forgive her for the damage eventually — even if she was going to be without the arm for a very long time. Her eyes found the giant’s, glassy and dead, impaled on glittering, glacial blue spires before she took off in a run again, blades digging into the frozen ground.
Vixannya stretched her legs out and sunk down into her bathtub, swishing her hands through the steaming hot water as she breathed in the lavender-scented air. The sounds of classical music drifted in from the other room, and a gentle breeze blew the sheer curtain hung along the open patio doors. The stress of the past month began to slowly fade away as the tension in her body dissipated.
Today was a day of pampering in order to prepare for the opening tomorrow: The full spa treatment, a full body massage, makeup and hair test runs, and of course, a night of sound sleep. She needed to be alert and healthy, not to mention to be prepared to spend the entire night partying. Being the hostess, she was expected to be there and social the whole evening, well into the wee hours of the morning. Thankfully, being a social creature it was easy for her to schmooze and mingle with just about anyone.
An expected knock was heard on the bedroom door, “Come on in!” Not moving an inch from the tub, she assumed it was her invited guest. Ryland entered with that charming grin of his, immediately making himself comfortable atop her bathroom counter as if this were a normal occurrence for them. “Your suit came in, you can try it on whenever. The seamstress will be here a bit later for my own fitting, and for any last minute adjustments. My gown is…Fucking. Amazing.” But they always were, that was the point. She enjoyed showcasing various fashion designers, especially the up-and-coming ones. This gallery was never just about the art hanging on the walls.
“You spoil me.” He loved it, and honestly Annya did too. She had the gold, so why not treat her friends? It was one of the main reasons for the over-the-top after parties, she just wanted her friends to have a wild time and forget about the rest of the world for a while. Given everything going on in the Dragon Isles, and the fact that the majority of her friends were aiding in those endeavors, this was probably a much needed escape.
She had easily spotted the tired look in Ryland’s eyes the moment he walked in, he had been on the go since last year with not much rest to be had. She was also well aware that he didn’t do well trying to relax alone, so that was absolutely her ulterior motive in asking him here today. They were going to share this spa day, and she had hired multiple masseuses for the both of them.
“I know. Come join me?” She swished her hand through the water, gesturing towards the other side of the massive tub. “Sera will be here a bit later to try on his suit too.” And to also get the full surprise treatment as well.
Ryland eagerly obliged, shedding his clothing and settling himself down across from her. “You know, you keep showing up at places like your gallery with us on either arm, people are gonna start thinking we’re all an item.”
“Is that so bad?” She smirked at him, flicking some water towards his face. “Although I wouldn’t want to tread on your bachelor lifestyle.” She tapped a finger against her chin, “In fact, I wouldn’t want to tread on my own bachelorette lifestyle. I am content with what we have, and if others want to assume it’s more, then that’s not our problem. Let them stare, and give them something worth staring at.”
“Ohh, you know damn well we will tomorrow.”
“Indeed. But first!” She wiggled her fingers, “Tonight is all about rest and relaxation. Massages, facemasks, and takeout. You’re staying over and getting some much needed pampering.” Not a question, an order. He wouldn’t say no, he rarely did.
Eyes darted over the ‘red carpet’, which much to his surprise was an actual red carpet where people posed and showed off their wardrobe for the evening. How peculiar. BUT! He said he was going to experience it all, and that was the plan! Being one of Vixannya’s VIP guests certainly had its perks, and it allowed him and his plus one access to a variety of fashion designers willing to dress them for the night.
He preferred simplicity and comfort over extravagance, knowing this was to be an all night event. His ‘date’ and clutchmate Aleta opted for the full works. She had decided to join him in her Visage form and wanted to be pampered and made to look beautiful. At least whatever standard of beauty the other inhabitants of Azeroth followed. She wasn’t so convinced that Tazindrox was actually handsome and that she had ‘an ethereal beauty’ about her. They had made a charming and precious duo on this ‘red carpet’, not really understanding posing or the intricacies of certain facial expressions - which immediately made them a paparazzi favorite.
The gallery was intriguing, especially to Aleta who had not spent a whole lot of time among non-Dracthyr. Pointing towards his portrait and exclaiming loudly, “Is that your dick?!” elicited a handful of nearby chuckles, but it really was a peculiar thing when you had never seen one before, especially on your friend, whom you had never seen naked in his Visage form. Briefly afterwards, she asked in a more hushed tone, “Can you show it to me later?” It would certainly be a night of many firsts for them both!
The afterparty itself was completely unexpected. He had heard the descriptions and the vague tales, but he never imagined this. The opulence of it all was overwhelming, and Tazindrox found himself completely caught off guard the moment he walked through those darkened curtains into the gleaming lights of the Water room. It felt like a dream come to life, and immediately he wanted to explore everything.
Aleta curled her fingers around his forearm, clearly experiencing the same reaction as her large, rose-colored eyes drank up the space. “Holy fuck! I hope you have your notepad on you...”
“Holy fuck indeed….and of course I do” He patted his chest before immediately honing in on the massive display of food, which included people lying nude on the table covered in what appeared to be raw fish. Weird. “Food, and exploring?”
“Yes.”
There were all sorts of dishes from all over Azeroth being offered, with a waitstaff and chefs on hand to fulfill any special requests. The two of them immediately loaded up their plates to the extreme, and then some, before starting their trek around the rooms, snacking and staring in awe.
Taz exchanged pleasantries and introduced his friend to any familiar faces they ran into, but mostly their attention was occupied by just observing everything. And eating, of course. There was so much food, they didn’t want it to go to waste! He did, however, warn her that overeating or drinking too much in her Visage form would be a horrible idea and make her sick. They had a lot of space to cover, so pacing themselves was key.
Aleta’s favorite area was Earth, especially the hidden secret gardens with fairy rings that when you stood in the middle, illusions of fairy dragons would come to life and begin to sing and flit around. The first time it happened, they both startled and spilled some of the contents from their stacked plates, although the moment the food touched the ground it magically vanished. Which, naturally, stole their attention for a while as they attempted to figure out where it went, and then how their plate suddenly refilled with the very thing that was dropped. Fairy rings were definitely magical!
Moving onto the Air room, Taz pointed out his good friend Ryland performing up on the silks. Aleta stared at him, not once looking away until the half-elf caught sight and gave her a charming grin and a wink. “...I think I may understand the appeal of these elves.” Typical of Ryland to capture the heart of just about anyone, he hadn’t seen Aleta that smitten with anyone since the before times. “He makes my loins feel very tingly. It’s a strange feeling in this form.”
“That’s a fairly usual reaction around him, I have come to learn. It happens to me too.”
“Huh. I think I would like to look at his dick later too.”
Taz nearly snorted his drink out through his nose. Any passers-by would have likely assumed that comment was sexual in nature, but he wasn’t so sure. She was curious, just like him. Although if anyone were to seduce her, it would probably be Ryland. At one point much later in the evening, Taz was fairly confident that he had when he noticed them slipping into a dark corner and remaining there for a good 20 minutes.
After a few more moments of staring, they made their way into the Fire room: This was Taz’s preferred element. He made sure to point out not to step on the lava on the floor because it may melt their fancy shoes. Although once they saw others wandering across it, it was decided that it was safe to traverse. It was loud and flashy in this room and there was fire everywhere, and neither quite knew where to put their focus. Until he noticed Dicenne on the main stage, armed with two flaming whips.
“Ohhh, I have met him before, he’s a very nice fellow.”
Aleta canted her head to one side, a little uncertain about that description. He wore a little bit of leather and a lot of body paint, glitter, and oil. She found herself mesmerized once more, especially when the end of one of those whips snapped around a nearby human’s wrist and yanked her closer, where they proceeded to do things that were perhaps more suitable behind closed doors.
Neither could look away though, and that was probably the point of it all. Fire was an extremely dangerous element, and something about watching this happen live in front of their faces felt dangerous as well. It took a few moments to realize that Dice and his current partner weren’t the only ones enjoying these types of pleasures.
Taz slowly glanced towards Aleta, who was currently holding onto and gnawing at what appeared to be a piece of steak as she watched Dicenne and the human woman. “...Wanna get some more food?”
“Yes.”
With that, the two quickly made their way back to Earth to overindulge in their own way. They could explore more later, but this was more important.
