Too sparse, the night before, a few hours sleep lost to the servicing of a man with ink for skin and hair for days. Yawning at the makeup table, knees aching with exhaustion as he danced the ancient art of his bloodline and even falling asleep during his lunch hour were completely worth it to come home, 12 hours later, with the 50%/50% chance he'd get to wear himself out all over again. Paint lingered behind his ear lobes, was stuck in a white clump to an eyelash as he fiddled with keys, jammed one in the socket and turned.
All these traces of paint, they matched his loose white track shorts and zip up, his bad slung effortlessly stylish over his shoulder as his door swung in. Extra shoes at his door step and his grin was on fucking fire. "Baby?~~~ I'm hooommmeee~~!" Bold kabuki voice bounced off the walls slurry and deep. Slam of the door, so excited, so fucking thrilled, heart already planning the meal he'd make him, feed him and then fuck him in the shower for as long as his trembling knees could support them.
Keys in a crisp, clean white porcelain bowl on a pretty dark wood stand and he stepped out of his designer flip flops, dropped his bag on the all-tree flooring as he walked into his new life. Even his sister, for all her predictions of the effect reality would have on them, couldn't tear his mood down.