Pann
catch me barking up a tree, smile wide as money green
Oh, the way she says my name.
It lingers—slow and sticky, like sin pressed between silk sheets. My grin deepens as her hand slides into mine, and I let her help me step free of the stone with the air of a man who could do it himself, but wouldn’t dream of denying her the pleasure. Her introduction has my brows climbing sky-high, and by the time she gets to orgy organizer, I’m dangerously close to proposing on the spot.
Instead, I step back just enough to bow—no half-hearted nod, no lazy dip of the head. This is a flourish, dramatic and velvety, one hand pressed theatrically to my chest as the other lifts hers. I kiss her knuckles first—classic, charming, perfectly polite. Then I turn her hand, slower now, more reverent, and kiss the inside of her wrist. Not just a gesture of flirtation, though there’s plenty of that—it’s respect.
“A priestess of our dark mother,” I murmur, letting the kiss linger just a moment too long. “I’m honored. Humbled, even. And frankly a bit embarrassed I’ve never heard your name before now. Charlie. Positively endearing.”
I straighten and give myself a sharp brush-down, only to grimace at the state of my clothes. My vest is hanging by one side like a dying promise, and my shirt’s torn across the collarbone. I sigh dramatically. “They sealed me in here looking like a prince, and now I look like I crawled out of a tavern fight and lost.” A pause. “Which, to be fair, is not the worst look for me.”
While she speaks of calendars and cataclysms, I run my fingers through my hair, dislodging a puff of dust and ash. Ugh. I brush it off like a personal insult and glance up at her glowing flame-painted ceiling.
“Shame I missed this cataclysm. I do love a good world-ending event. Nothing brings people together quite like a shared apocalypse.”
I glance toward the cave mouth, a thoughtful frown settling across my face. “Priestess Charlie,” I murmur, “has the world grown any more... tolerant of our kind? Or are they still shoving anything remotely divine and dangerous into stone cages and pretending it solves their problems?” I tilt my head, voice softer now, edged in hunger. “Because while I’m not exactly keen to be entombed again… nature can’t be helped.” A flash of fang in my grin. “And I’d hate to make a bad first impression on a brand new millenia.”
It lingers—slow and sticky, like sin pressed between silk sheets. My grin deepens as her hand slides into mine, and I let her help me step free of the stone with the air of a man who could do it himself, but wouldn’t dream of denying her the pleasure. Her introduction has my brows climbing sky-high, and by the time she gets to orgy organizer, I’m dangerously close to proposing on the spot.
Instead, I step back just enough to bow—no half-hearted nod, no lazy dip of the head. This is a flourish, dramatic and velvety, one hand pressed theatrically to my chest as the other lifts hers. I kiss her knuckles first—classic, charming, perfectly polite. Then I turn her hand, slower now, more reverent, and kiss the inside of her wrist. Not just a gesture of flirtation, though there’s plenty of that—it’s respect.
“A priestess of our dark mother,” I murmur, letting the kiss linger just a moment too long. “I’m honored. Humbled, even. And frankly a bit embarrassed I’ve never heard your name before now. Charlie. Positively endearing.”
I straighten and give myself a sharp brush-down, only to grimace at the state of my clothes. My vest is hanging by one side like a dying promise, and my shirt’s torn across the collarbone. I sigh dramatically. “They sealed me in here looking like a prince, and now I look like I crawled out of a tavern fight and lost.” A pause. “Which, to be fair, is not the worst look for me.”
While she speaks of calendars and cataclysms, I run my fingers through my hair, dislodging a puff of dust and ash. Ugh. I brush it off like a personal insult and glance up at her glowing flame-painted ceiling.
“Shame I missed this cataclysm. I do love a good world-ending event. Nothing brings people together quite like a shared apocalypse.”
I glance toward the cave mouth, a thoughtful frown settling across my face. “Priestess Charlie,” I murmur, “has the world grown any more... tolerant of our kind? Or are they still shoving anything remotely divine and dangerous into stone cages and pretending it solves their problems?” I tilt my head, voice softer now, edged in hunger. “Because while I’m not exactly keen to be entombed again… nature can’t be helped.” A flash of fang in my grin. “And I’d hate to make a bad first impression on a brand new millenia.”
you should mind your business, but my business is the place to be
