"Oh, don't be disgusting," Vepar chuckled, a raspy hiss of a man who'd had one too many nights at the bar. He didn't know what smelled better-the doughnuts or Dant himself.
He tipped his mouth against the jut of Dant's chin, touching a grateful kiss to rough sharp stubble before his hands pulled the box of baked sweetness from him. People bringing him baked goods was becoming more and more commonplace.
As Vepar eased away, he was surprised to see the useless wonder of a bastard fat cat abandon his post at the port window ledge in order to rub a figure eight against Dant's legs. Vepar smirked and opened the doughnut box. "I think he likes you," he taunted.