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Summary
Keith shouted, dropping the lamp. The smoke billowed, grew, threatened to overtake him, then coalesced into a distinct shape. Shoulders, waist, hips, arms, head.
A man. That was a man.
A helluva fine man.
He was a study in metallics. Bedecked in jewelry but with all white hair, tinged silver. Mercurial eyes. Right hand crafted out of gold, veins of it climbing up past his shoulder and kissing his clavicle. A streak of gold scored across the bridge of his nose, like a scar. He was shirtless, yards of gleaming muscle revealed to feast upon.
And he also wore bright blue harem pants and nipple piercings so...yeah.
The smoke dispersed, leaving only him and that dull oil lamp at his feet. The man turned, movements stiff. His gaze found Keith’s. “Oh Master of the Lamp—.”
Keith screamed.
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Or: Keith's a professor of Ancient Galra History and Culture and finds a lamp that contains a beautiful man because of course it fucking does.I have no excuse for this. I just really, really liked the 3 am thought of Genie Shiro.