Old Habits Die Hard

"I do hope that's for someone else," Merrick growled low as he came up behind Keelin. He'd seen the woman make her concoction enough to know exactly what it was and the smell was easy to distinguish. He'd told her exactly what his intentions were with her. If she was still taking her contraceptives, then she wasn't on board. If she wasn't on board, then she was a liar. If she was a liar, then she was useless to him. A woman that couldn't be trusted didn't deserve the position that he'd bestowed upon her.

As the amaranthine brute stepped around the brindled fae, he noted that she had bottled up the brew rather than taking it instantly as she usually did. A contemplative hmm pulled from the giant and he moved to stretch out upon the furs before the hearth. He was still sore from his previous dance with death but his ribs were slowly healing. They twinged every now and again, but he didn't let it show. Not unless he wanted attention. Which... he did.

Merrick made a show of laying with his scarred side up, a hiss of pain squeezing between clenched teeth. Laying on his side, the brutes blue eye was closed, but the swirling claret of his other eye remained fixed on the tan and white fae. Over the herby tang of the woman's brew, he could smell the intoxicating scent of her heat. He'd told her of his intent with her long enough ago that she should be receptive to his seed by now. There was only one way to find out and he waited for her to come give him some attention so he could give her some attention.

"Merrick Mendacium"