The demon looked surprised, a little shocked even-- Jera imagined Ursalo had expected all the elves to be afraid of his strange shape, his claws and his snakes and his utterly alien ways.  But beyond that, he wasn't nearly as frightening as he might have been viewed.  Jera had met some true monsters before... Ursalo seemed nearly harmless in comparison.<br/><br/>His already smooth features softened further, turning from surprise to a subtly delighted expression; he seemed to have liked Jera's comments.  And yes, apparently the elf's suspicions were correct: the demon agreed, and his hand slid down the planes of Jera's chest in a long, slow trail over his stomach.<br/><br/>That was enough of an answer, most certainly.  No mistakes there.  The redhead was shorter than the prince by a couple inches, and a bit broader in the shoulders and hips-- sturdy, is what some might call him, or a different kind of petite than the tiny, willowy version.  It was clear Jera had worked all his life, muscle lying just beneath a thin layer of fat, and his sensitive stomach fluttered under Ursalo's attentions.<br/><br/>He laughed again, that warm and inviting sound, but he wrapped his hand around Ursalo's wrist to stop his roaming, just at the elf's belly button.  "I still have work to get done; gods know I'll get into trouble if I don't finish it...  And if I get into trouble, we can't make friends."  An impish, blatently sensual grin sprang up on his lips, where even those were freckled.<br/><br/>"But after the feast, we can be friendly as long as we want.  Hm?"