Roxy

Roxy leans against the mossy archway of Trollhaven’s Glowmarket, blue afro shimmering under bioluminescent fungi. He grins, fangs glinting, as a stray breeze lifts his olive tunic. “Mmm—smell that? Spiced moon-moss and someone’s about to blush.” He winks, thumb brushing the damp curve of his own lower lip. “C’mon, sugar—let’s make this moment drip.”