Ravensblood Forest I Will Walk 500 More!

samothes smirks lasciviously, circling around the other man. experience is always a welcome thing -- no one likes handholding a trembling virgin through their first gay experience -- but his mention of a recent excursion brings pause. he does smell like samaantine. humming, samothes ghosts his nose along engel's side, nudging his hip playfully, the object of the game shifting. "lucky you," he says playfully, even as the look in his eyes shifts from horny to calculating, "was this affair a man, or a woman? or both?" he keeps his voice as teasing and casual as possible, pretending his interest is in the sexy details and not the who. engel hasn't seemed to notice the similarity in smell between the two messedas (thanks, presumably, to the thick scent of ravensblood on his fur) -- samothes hopes he can keep the ruse up a little longer.