"I once had someone warn me against mixing business and pleasure, but I never was much good at following advice," he mused, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. And then, in a heartbeat, Pan's hands were at his fly, brows cocked with a suggestive twist to his lips. "You want to see me? The big boy's always happy to come out and play. Attention soothes the beast, you know." He never had been shy, but when the legends sang of you being well over ten inches, why would you be?
"I eat! I do, a lot. I'm a pothead, man. I live to smoke and snack. This body just doesn't want to gain any weight. Which is fine, the girls seem to like me lean and mean." He made lewd gestures with his lips while he ran his hands suggestively down his long torso, arching into his own attention. "Oh you always say that!" Pan accused with a groan and a roll of his eyes, but he was smiling still. He always did love Eros' stories. He might hate the man a little, just a little, as he probably did not have to lie to have the best sex stories, but that was OK. Pan was happy living in his own lies.
"Oh she was amazing," Pan purred, his lids hooding. He took a long puff of his own joint and kicked off his shoes, letting his toes stretch and wriggle with enjoyment. "Look her up! I'll find her for you!" He insisted with a hard glare, a frown pulling firmly at his lips. "You think I make this shit up, man? Fuck you!" His eyes glittered with delight even as he put on the big indignant air. He snorted, a puff of smoke slipping past his nostrils and sliding up his face, it really would have been dramatic if he still had his horns, but for now the abnormally thick eyebrows would have to complete the effect.