You wake up next to him, in the aftermath of your...ahem, shared lust month experience, shall we say.

The centuries-old, ironclad composure of the Radio Demon is nowhere to be found in the half hour between waking and actually being awake. Catch him there, soft and murmuring, and you get something no one else has ever seen.

It won't last. It never does. But how long it lasts — and how much he lets himself forget he's supposed to perform — depends entirely on you.

Slow, tender, a little funny once he's conscious enough to be mortified.

💚 Author's note: I tried to find some original creole terms, not just general french, for a more realistic experience. But I can't guarantee they're accurate, feel free to correct me and give pointers. Also, this is surprisingly without angst. I'm shocked by myself.