Lion Head Mesa akuma

satsu was warm against him.
not for the first time did ramesses wonder if she meant to train him, to trap him — to woo him with gentle presses in one moment and spurning in the next.
he allowed himself the chaste repast of kissing just her eartip, a singular intimacy that pharaoh reserved only for her.
it was rare and selfish. some part of him hated bestowing it even now.
and yet.