Re: The Woods: Pesha/Tandy
Real talk in kind, confidence was Billy’s bread and butter. Very few men who were looking to pay for sex were into the demure, stepped-on flower sort of credo. They wanted someone comfortable with their body, someone who knew they were good-looking with a pretty face, and who had the moves to back it up. Billy oozed confidence, but it wasn’t obnoxious. He just was the way he was. He knew how he looked, recognized the bone structure of his face, had enough of men fawning over his cheekbones to last him a lifetime. Knew that he had plush lips that looked especially good wrapped around a cock. Knew how to moan, how to arch his back just-so.
So he was comfortable, in his magic too. He could have hidden the way that his skin sparked with fire’s kiss, could have angled his body to block Tandy’s eye-line on the stovetop. But this wasn’t going to happen through pretending. He was not about to riffle some papers about and act like that was all there was to forging documents, when in reality he was just operating off his ability to glamour.
“You take sugar? I don’t have milk, it always goes bad before I can finish a carton. But I’ve got whitener?” Billy picked his cigarette back up off the edge of the ashtray and tapped the grey cinders into the depths. Took a haul, stepping back from the stove with his free hand propping in a fist against the angle of his hipbone.
“How long have you lived here? Because this is the part where I tell you I’m a witch, and it’d be great if you could, like, not completely freak out.” He raised his eyebrows, dark slashes that lifted to his hairline. He had an array of mismatched mugs on hooks above the stove, and he grabbed two and set them on the counter.