There was a knock at the temple door. Well, a kicking on the wall beside the door really, but who’s counting.
Inside, the woman looked up guiltily. Cats flew off of her lap with a hiss as she tried to hide the forbidden slice of birthday cake. Hastily wiping off cake crumbs with a napkin, she chirped, “Come in.”
The man slunk into the room. There was really no other way to describe it. But really, how else would the King of Assassins enter a room.
“Jett!” No, that wasn’t a squeal, it was…uh, a loudly spoken voice with a hint of surprise in it.
Scribe blinked at the low, sensual voice and looked the young man up and down. He looked so much like her sweet friend Joxer that it was kind of hard to think of him any other way.
“Why don’t you sit down. I…have something for you.”
Jett took Scribe’s hand and guided her back to the chair she had just vacated. In the corner a cat hissed at him. One look from Jett and the feline scampered into the closet.
With a snap of his fingers (Did I forget to mention that he’s a god here? Sorry.), music began to play. It was “I Hate Myself For Loving You” by Joan Jett.
The dark haired man stepped back and licked his lips sensuously. Scribe blinked and then blinked again. Hips grinding slowly to the music, Jett began to unbutton his black silk shirt. It dropped to the ground with a whisper. His belt was tossed against the bed. Jett saw where it landed and smiled, winking knowingly.
Black leather pants were peeled off to reveal…everything. The tall, slender and pale man twitched and writhed to the music. Totally nude, he turned around to give Scribe a better view. And what a view it was. For such a skinny guy, he had a butt to die for. One made to eat cake off of.
And hey, if he’s a god and Scribe’s a god now…then the birthday cake isn’t so out of bounds after all.
Scribe looked up, into Jett’s dark eyes. He was leaning over her now, with both hands on the arms of her chair. Smiling wickedly, the god leaned over and kissed Scribe. He pulled back and grinned again, before licking up the side of her neck.
Scribe grinned back. She reached out and grabbed a double handful of that perky behind.
“Want some cake Jett?”
“Sure baby…you wanna eat it too?”
“I just have one more thing to say.”
“Uhm…” Brain functions were quickly being lost, looking at her birthday present. “…and what’s that?”
“Happy Birthday, Scribe!”
Fic: Happy Birthday