Moments trickle by and the Dark Urge does nothing to cut the tension. His stare is like steel, hard and brought to such a sharp point he would be more surprised at anybody keeping eye contact. Gortash asks for proper preparation and the Dark Urge feels the scratching of humour on the inside of his throat.
The human is lucky he's in a mood to honour the offer he put on the table without reminding him where he is. The only lubrication ever used in this temple is the pools of crimson they sometimes fuck in. Perhaps a fresh source from the object of his desire themselves if he wants to play with blades.
He understands that Gortash couldn't have thought to specify what he would be lubricated with, and he's feeling generous enough to fill in that blank for him.
"I assume you want something you are familiar with rather than what passes for lubricant here?"
Yet another gift. One that he seems to give magnanimously. His hands finally start to move, fingers dragging over the rounds of the human's shoulders and down his upper arms. It's almost pleasant, the path his fingers take.
no subject
The human is lucky he's in a mood to honour the offer he put on the table without reminding him where he is. The only lubrication ever used in this temple is the pools of crimson they sometimes fuck in. Perhaps a fresh source from the object of his desire themselves if he wants to play with blades.
He understands that Gortash couldn't have thought to specify what he would be lubricated with, and he's feeling generous enough to fill in that blank for him.
"I assume you want something you are familiar with rather than what passes for lubricant here?"
Yet another gift. One that he seems to give magnanimously. His hands finally start to move, fingers dragging over the rounds of the human's shoulders and down his upper arms. It's almost pleasant, the path his fingers take.