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Summary
“Varka."
“Yeah, baby? What do you want?”
It's a dangerous question, what Varka’s asking. To ask a fae what he wants is undeniably dangerous... yet. Yet.
What Flins wants, Varka wants. Giving in, then, is only natural.
Testosterone is a hell of a drug. It's given the Grandmaster more gifts than he can count on two hands, but, of them, Flins finds himself most intrigued by one particular, ah, effect of it.
He doesn't know who's luckier: Varka, having taken so kindly to it; or himself, having the fruits of the Grandmaster's labor heavy across his tongue.