There's no doubt that Neron's nature is a complex one, his reasoning borne of an upbringing that has left its own scars. He likes to believe he's making the most of it, though - and hell, it seems to be doing the trick, given the sight of Morgan before him. She tells him to stay and so of course he stays, the Hailstorm letting his eyes wander over her, freckles and scars and curves, and whilst he can't display any physical signs of interest, it's undoubtedly there. Self-indulgence certainly seems to be the flavour of the evening, Neron responding automatically to the hand that presses against his chest.
Then Morgan is astride him, the heat of her enough to make his hands want to wander, though he gets the impression that she's not going to just let him do such a thing. "Not just any woman," he murmurs. "However I look, I guarantee that it's not as good as you look from down here." A smile curls at his lips. "Beautiful."
