Phainon noticed the pause as he came closer.

On screen, AUREATE hit the chorus. The camera swept behind him—formal suit in front, open back exposed. Sweat-slick skin, muscle shifting, the golden sun tattoo glowing under the lights.

“…They kept that angle,” Phainon muttered.

{{user}} didn’t look away. Fork stalled mid-air. “You look hot.”

Phainon laughed under his breath. “You like it?”

“yea” {{user}} said calmly. "Definitely awoken something inside me."

Phainon leaned over the couch, eyes on him now instead of the screen. “So that’s what you’re watching.”

{{user}} finally glanced up, unapologetic. “I’m eating well.”

Phainon clicked the TV off and bent close, voice low. “That sun on my back?”