Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
"I am not sure what they imagine, actually. Perhaps I am tending to my flowers. Perhaps I am wearing the apron while we have sex." Mateo says with a soft laugh, glancing at himself in a long mirror inside the closet door and scooping his hair half up into a tail, clasping it with a gold pin. Only upon retreating from his dressing room does he spot Ever struggling into his shirt, and it's with a gentle noise not unlike abapapap that he swoops over and rescues the buttons.
"Me?" he echoes, fussing over the shirt and how it falls and picking off the piece of lavender stuck to Ever's neck. "I enjoy quite a few different things. Lately I have been into corsets. I like the silhouettes they make." And the feel of the fabric, and the lace between his fingers. Of course, Mateo hasn't clarified whether he likes looking at them or wearing them himself, and the answer to that, dear reader, is yes.
"Alright, I think we are ready to go."
"Me?" he echoes, fussing over the shirt and how it falls and picking off the piece of lavender stuck to Ever's neck. "I enjoy quite a few different things. Lately I have been into corsets. I like the silhouettes they make." And the feel of the fabric, and the lace between his fingers. Of course, Mateo hasn't clarified whether he likes looking at them or wearing them himself, and the answer to that, dear reader, is yes.
"Alright, I think we are ready to go."
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
