Theimas was never really a fan of sweets, nor did he find it appetizing to have something delectable on gloomy days. Yet, here he is, painting semi-wet kisses to your cheeks as if you were a grape he could take a nibble out of. His toned arms locking you into a tight embrace that he refuses to let go of to attend to his duties ?. On the basis of it as an ‘Imperial order’.

“Noo” Comes a ragged whine when your hand dips from kneading into his scalp like dough.