Lion Head Mesa [sc] [M] Diamonds Under my Eyes

A low, wicked snicker resounded from the man, his thin wrist coming up to cover his mouth as his eyes blinked shut in amusement. I'll leave that up for you to decide, Sesh, he purred, the words slipping from his lips like honeyed venom, rich and sweet, yet with a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

Machiavelli's smirk deepened, a serpentine curl to his lips, allowing his words to hang in the air. I'm sure it will help you keep a clear head, he continued, his voice a silken whisper to wrap around the man like a noose. Avoid all the lust you do not want to give out for free. Machiavelli's eyes lingered on Izaiah's throat, the delicate curve of his neck, the faint pulse that beat just beneath the surface.

His smile widened, revealing a flash of pearly teeth, and he rolled his eyes back to meet Izaiah's. There was a hunger there, a barely restrained desire that flickered like candlelight in his gaze. Machiavelli stretched, his lithe body arching gracefully, toes curling and uncurling in a cat-like manner.

Me? he drawled, the word dripping with faux innocence, I'm afraid not. I'm not working tonight.