[ a hypocrite to the core, Guanshan is exactly the type of person to despise the rich for their indulgences while simultaneously craving them with eyes as green as the emerald notching his ribs. there's a sick secrecy to it, such an open defiance of his core values that it has to be hidden, coveted, infrequent. and hey, when all else fails, there's always the fallback on Sumarlok's tried and true: Gembonds Ride/Stay/Eat/Drink Free! ]
[ and who could blame him? the salt scrub where they clean crevices he's usually only had tongues in has his skin feeling like a goddamn newborn baby's, transported back into the body of a hormone-fueled teenager where he can't stop touching himself. draped in a robe that's barely cinched at the waist, the neckline opened wide around his décolletage to drape off of shoulders and air out ruddy, freckled clavicles. his steps smack with fluffy slippers, and his eyes are bleary with a calm bliss as he shuffles into the room the staff designated for him. ]
Oh.
[ a shuffle of silk and he turns, giving the doorknob a good jiggling. ]
Locked.
[ which he announces like it's neither a shocker nor a big deal, his voice steady — unusually smooth, though Cain wouldn't know the difference. hey, what's better than enjoying his spa day? enjoying his spa day when the edibles hit. no reason to let a little hiccup like this ruin his day, the now very active logical part of his brain supplies now that his hot temper has been effectively silenced — and so he shuffles across the room and toes his slippers off, shrugging his way out of the robe and leaving it draping over a piece of furniture. ]
[ one long leg, then another, he doesn't have any reason to glance Cain's way to see what he's doing — if he's a threat, if he's a prospect, neither much matter. not compared to sinking into the hot water with a satisfied sigh, lowering down all the way to that very sharp jaw. ]
Sorry for the intrusion. [ mildly. not sorry enough to give this up, lol. ]
no subject
[ and who could blame him? the salt scrub where they clean crevices he's usually only had tongues in has his skin feeling like a goddamn newborn baby's, transported back into the body of a hormone-fueled teenager where he can't stop touching himself. draped in a robe that's barely cinched at the waist, the neckline opened wide around his décolletage to drape off of shoulders and air out ruddy, freckled clavicles. his steps smack with fluffy slippers, and his eyes are bleary with a calm bliss as he shuffles into the room the staff designated for him. ]
Oh.
[ a shuffle of silk and he turns, giving the doorknob a good jiggling. ]
Locked.
[ which he announces like it's neither a shocker nor a big deal, his voice steady — unusually smooth, though Cain wouldn't know the difference. hey, what's better than enjoying his spa day? enjoying his spa day when the edibles hit. no reason to let a little hiccup like this ruin his day, the now very active logical part of his brain supplies now that his hot temper has been effectively silenced — and so he shuffles across the room and toes his slippers off, shrugging his way out of the robe and leaving it draping over a piece of furniture. ]
[ one long leg, then another, he doesn't have any reason to glance Cain's way to see what he's doing — if he's a threat, if he's a prospect, neither much matter. not compared to sinking into the hot water with a satisfied sigh, lowering down all the way to that very sharp jaw. ]
Sorry for the intrusion. [ mildly. not sorry enough to give this up, lol. ]