Stay your pretty eyes on course...

An invitation? Bluster and fluff? He blinked confused. The sensation over his lips sent a wave of titillating pleasure running underneath his fur. Stoking the fire of deep need at his core.

It had been a long time since he heard the Sanskrit language. Practiced it for hours and studied it for days as a youth. This language and a few others. He had to know them in order to lead them. The last he heard it was that day he and his army and his father stormed the Judlilan birthday party.

A memory flashed before his eyes of his Angel begging before him, how pleased he had felt to be wanted. But here... Was he the one who wanted? His eyes narrowed as he thought. Watching Ganymede recede his head away from the Demon Prince of Archnemes. A demand for a calculated appeal. Ultyr ran the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. If he lunged, if he took, he'd lose the stormlit boy for good. A little five minutes of action would render him untouchable in the future. He knew this. The boy had a way of weaseling into Ultyr's mind and pulling just the right strings. He was not used to this type of back and forth. He was usually the one with all the power. But here he was, contemplating lowering himself for a taste of the Morningstar prince that took his breath away. Was he lowering himself? Truly?

"Ganymede Morningstar..." He tasted his name, his full name, from a rumble deep in his chest, "Am I not a demon in your story?" He licked his lips, "Since when does a demon ask for what he wants? Since when does a demon get what he wants?" His hungry eyes drank in his figure again, he would drink in those pale shining flashing lavender eyes all day if he could. Drinking, consuming as if Gany were his priceless crown behind bulletproof glass.

"I've felled too many before your eyes to earn your respect. I've slaughtered too many behind your back. I've taken from what was mine before it was taken from me. If I ask you'll surely deny me, if I beg, I might taste only your forgiveness. What Morningstar would willingly lay with the Demon Prince that conquered your home?" He blinked, his head tilted to the side. Have them ask you, beg you, an illusion of choice, then deny them and punish them for asking... A game his father had taught him. He knew that game far too well and had even played it a time or two. "What Morningstar would deign to lower themselves into my sinful blood-soaked embrace?"