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Summary
“Haarlep, my-”
The hilarity of the scene before you almost causes your heat to leave your system from your bubbling laughter. It constricts in your chest for fear of punishment, but your body wracks in unheard hysterics as you look on in amazement.
“Kaemon? Gods not you too!”
Haarlep grunts, leaning away from the magnificent pole of the large bed, getting out of reach of a swiping hand. Raphael’s sweating form melts into the bed. His reddened skin is dark with arousal, something you’ve rarely seen so thoroughly blushed upon him. His clawed hand had been scraping across Haarlep’s stomach while he was being tied, like a little treat, against the bed.