That makes two of us. [ His grin stretches broad across his face, and as those hands slide from their gentle exploration of his hips to the small of his back, he allows himself to be drawn into the cradle of his consort's embrace. Rising up on his hoofed legs, Lucius slots his naked form against heated skin and cool silk, the tip of his nose grazing down the column of Eridanus' throat to the place where his neck meets his shoulder. ] What a shame. You already dress me with such reverence, and how much more does such fine work deserve?

[ He imagines it, the image of himself garbed in golden regalia with Eridanus' cheek pressed to his knee—and then he presses his mouth to the warm, ruddy skin beneath his lips, fangs bearing down until Lucius tastes blood on his tongue. ]