02-08-2022, 11:47 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-11-2022, 02:12 AM by Zechariah Meijer.)
[[CW: It’s Zech.]]
[[Previously.]]
It was a night like any other night: Zechariah was looking utterly impeccable. The aftershave was poignant, as he had slotted Darius’ follow-up in just after his usual barber appointment. Perhaps, he had considered, the smell of grooming might seep into the monster’s subconscious and leave him a mere man instead.
Was Darius as bad as he thought he was? Probably not. It hardly made him like him any more to acknowledge that, but it took some of the edge off uncomfortable associations.
Then the servant led him in to see Darius, and before him was his second least favorite Carrington once more. He … looked good. Impressively good. Fantastically good. In fact, Darius Carrington looked offensively good. God, he wanted to stomp him into a lawn again.
But he had better ways to screw him. Zechariah caressed the folder he came bearing like a lover he was intent on showing off. It seemed Darius was dressing for the part of heir apparent, which meant Zechariah, too, needed to keep on top of his game.
“Mr. Carrington,” Zechariah said with a pleasant smile. “You look great.”
He was going to grease this rich fuck up so thoroughly he could trip and land straight up his own ass.
[[Previously.]]
It was a night like any other night: Zechariah was looking utterly impeccable. The aftershave was poignant, as he had slotted Darius’ follow-up in just after his usual barber appointment. Perhaps, he had considered, the smell of grooming might seep into the monster’s subconscious and leave him a mere man instead.
Was Darius as bad as he thought he was? Probably not. It hardly made him like him any more to acknowledge that, but it took some of the edge off uncomfortable associations.
Then the servant led him in to see Darius, and before him was his second least favorite Carrington once more. He … looked good. Impressively good. Fantastically good. In fact, Darius Carrington looked offensively good. God, he wanted to stomp him into a lawn again.
But he had better ways to screw him. Zechariah caressed the folder he came bearing like a lover he was intent on showing off. It seemed Darius was dressing for the part of heir apparent, which meant Zechariah, too, needed to keep on top of his game.
“Mr. Carrington,” Zechariah said with a pleasant smile. “You look great.”
He was going to grease this rich fuck up so thoroughly he could trip and land straight up his own ass.
