is there a price to burn this paradise?
”Jata, much as I adore you, I don’t need you to give me any of the snakeskin you shed,” Ronin says with a wrinkling of his nose, mischief dancing in his eyes. He’s working on the wraps on his hands, still, finally getting them loose and clenching his fists a few times to get the feeling properly back. Only then is he able turn his head to find the cobra staring right back at him, hood flaring.
He snorts and reaches out, tickling a finger behind Jata’s scaly head. ”Are you preening for me, sir?” he wants to know, chuckling and resisting the urge to grab at the snake, knowing the fucker would likely shift into something a lot more cumbersome as punishment. ”So do you have anything to say for yourself about this?” he wants to know, gesturing at the colourful bruises already starting to form on his side.
”I know this is the only way we can get our hands on each other, but gods, man, have a little self control.”
He snorts and reaches out, tickling a finger behind Jata’s scaly head. ”Are you preening for me, sir?” he wants to know, chuckling and resisting the urge to grab at the snake, knowing the fucker would likely shift into something a lot more cumbersome as punishment. ”So do you have anything to say for yourself about this?” he wants to know, gesturing at the colourful bruises already starting to form on his side.
”I know this is the only way we can get our hands on each other, but gods, man, have a little self control.”
