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Summary
Aonung was just down the row and bent over to tug a strawberry free from the green lush. His curls were pulled lazily into a high bun, which allowed for a few stragglers to spiral down and kiss his flushed cheeks. To see Aonung dolled up in those denim shorts that hugged his ass tightly, with a tee— his tee —knotted loosely in the back to keep out the way of his picking, only served to feed into Neteyam's temptation. It seemed like he was on a never-ending journey over the gentle curves and dips of Aonung's body with his eyes: hungry, greedy ones that were once syrupy brown in color but now tainted black with blown pupils.
There stood an angel in his garden, beauty incarnate and so soft looking. And Neteyam, a fallen one, who loomed behind, ready to defile and corrupt and touch heaven itself.
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Or
Neteyam needs a re-charge after a long day's work out in the fields, so he goes looking for the exact person he knows would give him his spark back. But perhaps it's a bit too much spark, especially when he ends up staring and drooling like a dog to a bone.