Shadowwyn Moor beauty was your armor

are you? he tangos, fighting tease with tease. blue eyes half-lidded. i’d need a bite to find out. it is not he who does the bitting, however, as alamar’s forearm falls casually to the side and the gladiator draws near to nip his cheek. it steals a breathless chuckle out of alamar, amused and pleased—lips curved. he tilts his head to the side, giving him easier access.