Re: [in-person: damian & misha]
[Entirely smug.] I ken it. [He smiled back, teeth on his bottom lip, which ruined some of the brattiness he was projecting. But, he did ken it. He would not necessarily say he enjoyed being difficult, but he did, especially with Misha.—He thought about where he would wish to live, if he had his druthers. And it did take some thought, as he had never considered such. It was pointless to do so, when he had places he had to be. But, he did so now, though it served no purpose.] No, I do like the city. I prefer the western cities. Tangier. Rashid. Prague. Istanbul. I enjoy hearing the adhan. The call to prayer. I think I would enjoy living by a river. But, I do like my room here. It is my sanctuary. [Which was an admission for Damian. A further admission:] I prefer living with you, however, to all of the former. I would like to see this cottage. [The man's eyes narrowed to jade slits when Misha told him he was not going to eradicate humanity. He had only answered the question asked. It was what he was meant to do. He did not know if he would. Which likely said more about him than he wished to know at this juncture. So, he lifted his chin as his cheek was kissed, and he glared.] I would not. [He would and they both knew it, but he felt like being contrary.
Misha did too, it seemed, because he tickled Damian's feet, in spite of an order to cease and desist. If the boy had done it one more time, he would have been tackled against marble, so it was good he stopped when he did. Damian basked in his victory.—He also announced loudly to the space a new phrasing for buttplugs, and he could not help but laugh, this not germinated by fingers wiggling against toes, when the angel covered his mouth. And, like a baby who just realized it could get a reaction out of someone, he decided to say it one more time,] A plug for one's butt! [He said it quickly, rushed together, so he could get it out, and he laughed and hooked Misha by the arm. He felt lighter too. It was not literal, the lighter, but it was what he felt, as if a weight was gone, as if the night before was not so crushing an event.
He asked the angel to inform him of his fucking wishes (that word order did not seem correct, but it technically was), and he smiled with more self-satisfaction that a man ought ever have when he was called a menace. Yes, Damian was very pleased with himself. He kissed back. And he did not expect the smack to his ass. It was enough to make him jump, though he made no sound, until he rounded on Misha and the angel had already jumped away. Damian could feel heat on his buttocks and he knew if he looked, he would find a red outline of a hand. Instead of launching his vengeance now, however, he decided to bide his time. He lifted his chin once more.] I hear. I will meet you in the foyer, [he said, imperiously. And he marched off to fetch the blanket without looking back.—When he was exiting the room, however, he did rub a hand against his wounded asscheek.
Eleven minutes later, he was in the foyer with a heavy, dark comforter from one of the extra rooms, rolled and stuffed into his backpack. He had also acquired pants, shoes, and his hoodie, though he had not changed the shirt. He waited with limited patience and, not entirely unrelated, an erection that had not subsided at all in the eleven minutes since his ass had been smacked.]