[ In the Back Rooms ] 1 x 1: Mel x Salvation

[Melvin Louie-Leon]

Fandom: OriginShipping (Mel x Sal)

RP: 1 x 1

Melvin was rather bored, and laying around in his room, that he had kept for eons now. His room was one of the largest in all of the Hideout, and normally the door stayed shut whenever the King was inside. Not many really dared to knock on the door or bother the King, unless they wanted to be mentally scarred, or tail-raped. This was the area where Mel tended to relax and ignore all of the drama from the Hideout, as well as... carry out common practices. Like fucking things, people, or himself. Wait what?

The King sat up and cracked his neck, his hair glowing against the lighting in the darkened room. His large tail writhed and the fin flexed outwards, relaxing itself as though it had a mind all it's own. The large wings resting atop the King's back seemed to take no action, laying there quietly, unless he moved and needed them to do otherwise. Around his neck were a set of dog tags, he and his mates only having copies of such an artifact. Running his clawed right hand through his hair he sat at the edge of the bed, deep in thought - about something.

[Salvation Arclight]

Salvation lingered around the Hideout for a time, then just got bored. He was relatively shitfaced, which was fine, he had a decent tolerance and wouldn't throw up or anything. He staggered down the halls, until he found the King's Quarters, then decided to just open the door, since the Tyrant had a habit of leaving his doors unlocked. Smirking fiendishly, he walked into the room, to see the King only sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Well, well, well... looks like the King has gotten bored of all the fame in the Hideout hey? Hmmm, come now, why are you in here... and so... alone?" He hissed, flicking his tail at the King.

Sal boldly wandered over to the Tyrant's side, and sat behind him, reaching around, to get his hands all over the gruesome fiend that his Wolf was. Reaching beneath his black beater, he allowed his smooth hands to caress the King's chest, listening to the cling of the tags around his neck. They matched the pair that he himself had, as well.

"Don't you want to have some fun?" He hissed, putting emphasis on the last word.