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Summary
“All yours,” Dew says sweetly, rubbing his face into Aeon’s hands like a cat. His voice goes all soft and breathy when he’s like this, eager to give. He has the loveliest voice when it isn’t being used to swear.
Aeon tilts Dew’s head curiously, like he’s examining a foreign specimen. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Dew entertains Aeon’s examining, neck going slack and pliable like a ragdoll. “All for you. You can use me.”
“Use you?” Aeon isn’t too sure about that. The word makes him feel a little uneasy—he shouldn’t be using Dewdrop. If anything, it should be him on that end, gratefully accepting everything and anything Dewdrop deigns to give. “Tell me how.”
or
Aeon people pleases too close to the sun. Dew isn’t okay with that.