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can you blame yourself, really? it’s not your fault that when you found yourself behind the curtains of his stage, you saw his figure seated on that throne… how his legs were spread out, how he held those knives in his hand, one to each finger, leaning his head onto the other…
it certainly wasn’t your fault that he had heard your rustling, that he’d looked over and given you one hell of a smile, eyes focused.. “what do you think you're doing, my sweet?”
you freeze in place, standing still. you know better, that he has nothing but dark intentions.
and yet when he crooks his finger as if to gesture, come here, your feet move almost immediately. slow and steady, you approach him on his throne, and he lets out a satisfied hum.
you can feel his eyes roam over your body, the way he looks at you almost hungrily.
“don’t be scared, jagiya. come closer.” and you do, standing inches away from him. the space between his legs starts to look so inviting, and he rolls the knives between his fingers before slipping them off and back into his sleeve.
he reaches his arm out, as if to say, let me see you. and in the moment you grow closer, he scoots forward to take a detailed look at your face as his fingers gently take your chin.
“so pretty,” he says, “or would you prefer handsome? either way, you look wonderful.” you can feel his heated gaze, and it isn’t long before his other hand begins to hover over your hip.
he gently pulls you forward, knees falling into the chair over his lap. his hand trails its way from your hip to your thigh with a gentle stroke- the other squeezes your face now, pushing your lips into a pout.
“naughty little things shouldn’t be here, you know.” he winks. the line is atrocious- you both know damn well what he’s done, what you’ve done to be sent to hell. when the spider god changed her mind and gave him his own realm, this stage became part of it.
and it’s definitely not your fault that you were here. it was the first time you’d touched the stage without someone aggressively chasing you across it.
a gentle tug, a soft kiss to the underside of your chin and he has your attention again. “quit pondering, love. i’m right here.”
“sorry-” you’re interrupted by another kiss, this time to your lips. it’s gentle, drawing you in, and you find yourself giving in, returning the kiss in the same gentle fervor. you close your eyes and you can feel him break away to nip at your lower lip before diving back in, this time rougher than the first. you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, fully tasting you. his hands are both on your hips now, pulling you further onto his lap and pressing his bare chest against yours.
your hands find his shoulders, slipping underneath the collar of his yellow trench coat. fingers meet smooth skin, just barely grazing his chains - you can feel his grip on your hips tighten as the fabric begins to fall off his shoulders.
he breaks the kiss again. “i feel generous, so i’ll forgive you this time,” he mutters before nipping your chin. he shrugs the coat further off his shoulders, and you are suddenly aware of the heat growing underneath you. he grinds his hips upward, taking the time to rave his eyes over your form again.
“just so delectable,” he continues, “it’s like she’s made you a gift just for me, to unwrap and savor from the inside out.”