#toddallis0n

[mrcyril-blog]

☆

Cyril raised an eyebrow. Than he raised the other one. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d choked right there. 

He had no damn idea why the pumpkin had wandered into his office for a kiss of all things. Was it the work of aliens? Mind control? No, he was probably dreaming. An occurrencee like this was so rare it couldn’t have been reality. Another one of those damn nightmares, he’d bet. 

But through his shocked expression, something sparked. This was fine. If that was how it was going to be, it was fine. Maybe he didn’t dislike gingers as much as he’d thought.

His hand gently scooped up his fellow teachers chin, their lips so close they could feel every breath taken. Years of tension, and fighting—it was relieved. It was in that moment that Cyril took the plunge and in a quick moment he—

Bit Todd Allisons lip. Hard.

An explosive laughter came forth whilst he watched the poor pumpkin deal with his now swelling, bleeding lip.

"HAHAHAH—GOD! Did you really think I’d kiss you? You fucking bastard? Ohh my god, you poor fucking bastard! Hahahaha!"

[wrmhles-blog]

Writing erotic fiction is a temperamental art form, not to be argued with if it can be helped. The genitals want what the genitals want, and you've found that crafting your delicious wizard-related delicacies comes easiest to you in public. (For the irony, you suppose, but with all the ways you've seen that word misconstrued in your lifetime, there's really no way to tell.) As such, it's fortunate that the nearest coffee shop is only a block or two away from your apartment; you've taken to walking when the weather is nice.  

The weather is nice today, and you're about halfway through a chai tea latte and 2/3 through one of the smuttiest chapter in this series yet when an argument at the counter catches your attention. 

Or maybe it's the familiar head of flaming orange hair that catches your attention, you're not sure. 

What are you going to do?

ROSE: pester that douchebag 

You wait until he's done huffing and puffing at the barista before planning out your best course of action. You minimize the google docs window you've been slaving over for the past half hour in favor of opening your favorite chat client. 

TT: Hello Todd.  TT: I notice that you've decided to stray from your regular order today. TT: I assume this wasn't by choice, if your argument with the barista was anything to go by, but I will compliment you on your much-needed variety all the same. TT: Is that whipped cream?

You're quite certain that he's unsure of how you got a hold of his handle, or even who you are, but so far that's made your interactions all the more interesting. You've found that confusion is an emotion that suits people like Todd Allison far better than anger.

You take a sip of your own drink and keep your eyes on the screen.