*Looks around*
Put ¥ in my ask and my muse will rate your muse on:
Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Would they date them: yes | no Favorite thing about them: Least favorite thing about them:
*Pecks him on the cheek*
“Looking for brownie points, are we?” He grins, taking his husband by the waist and turning them together so he may press a kiss against his mouth, full and longing. “Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”
Touch my muse! Touching is a quiet way of conveying your feelings, so tell me how you feel with your touch!
Send me a ‘🐼’ and I’ll post my favorite cute image of your muse.
😍
It’s taken him quite a while to work his way out of his shell. In fact, he’s still testing the edges of his comfort zone. An edge he’s just bounced off of, apparently. It’s probably easy to guess that he’s getting a little bit tense, by the way he slides the ethanol-filled mug back and forth between his hands. Repetition was just something the dead did.
“Speaking of priorities… I have to go to a staff meeting tomorrow, so I’ll be doing the laundry once I get off work today. And I’ll be picking up something I left in storage.”
He reaches over to place a hand over James’ own, stilling the fidgeting. The wolf’s hackles have raised and it wanted to fasten jaws over the neck of the other, but James has explicitly said if that was to ever happen, he can’t help but turn himself into bone and smoke on the spot. It was a motion to soothe, after all. “Don’t tell me its another head of sorts.” His thumb strokes idly over cold skin.
“You’re the one who said you’d pee on everything that’s yours.” Oh no, he’s adorable. James quickly snags his own mug from the cabinet (after floating up to get it. damn you, high shelves!) and swaps it for Ro’s. And then he sits down. “I think I fall into that category, do I not?”
He takes the other cup happily fills it, lifting to take a long drink of dark, dark coffee. His husband was being rather cheeky this morning. It is such a long way from how they first met, he thinks. No longer a shaky little lamb - though one couldn’t stay that way when they laid with wolves, not really. “Careful, James, or you may find me not caring for your preferences and still pee on your pant leg. A wolf certainly has it’s priorities, don’t you know.”
“Roukan, we’ve discussed this. I’m not into watersports.”
That stops the wolf in its tracks. “That is not what I meant and you know it.” He unfolds the newspaper and brings it up to read - or rather hide the blush that he is now sporing on high cheeks.
“I poured too much and it’s difficult to get back in the container without a funnel. So… I’ve been drinking it, since it does more good than harm for the undead.”
“I will start peeing on everything that is mine. I am not above it.”
“ — Don’t drink that. I’m changing the ethanol on a few wet specimens.”
“....Why did you put it in my coffee mug?”
My husband made me a new theme. You all need to go look. Now.