Apparently the room was more than fine.  Ursalo barely spared it a glance before he was back in Jera's space, pressed close and intimate so they were breathing the same air.  His snakes coiled and slithered, beautiful dark vines, and his golden eyes were piercing as they stared into the elf's.<br/><br/>Undress and touch me...  Not an order, not the right tone, but so much more than asked.  It was like he needed it,<i>needed</i>to see Jera naked and have his hands all over.  Flattering, very much so; Jera smiled again, crooked and bright, and he began to do as Ursalo asked-commanded-said.  So intriguing; were all demons so passionate, so consumed with lust once the idea had been sparked...?  Or was Ursalo unique, and Jera just special enough to be caught under his ravenous spotlight.<br/><br/>The elf normally would have taken his time, but he sensed that kind of foreplay wasn't wanted.  Layer by layer the cloth slipped away, revealing pale silver skin, dotted with freckles; they spattered along his chest and back, but a few continued on his thighs, the backs of his hands and feet.  Jera had spent lots of time under the sun.  He dropped his clothes to the side, left everything that wasn't part of himself, except the little necklace hanging around his throat-- the vibrant stone carried the colors of his eyes and hair, made them even brighter.<br/><br/>There were some curiosities to note: a pair of tattoos on his left upper arm, a swallow in flight and a blooming rose beneath it.  Both were old, starting to fade, and there was a discrepancy in the craftsmanship.  The swallow had been done much earlier than the rose, and the bird's artist had been rushed, given rudimentary tools, so the end result was a rough, boxy image, and the ink was failing.  The rose had held up better, more elegant in style, the petals opening up in a suggestive manner.  Jera didn't mind talking about either tattoo, but he didn't always tell the truth of them.  Sometimes he lied just for fun.<br/><br/>The scars on his back were not immediately visible, but Ursalo would find them once he began to touch the elf.  They were slightly raised in some areas, or dug into his skin in others, whitened with age but still they sometimes ached.  Lashmarks from a whip, from a very long time ago, one that Jera did not dwell on.  Few had ever asked about them, and each had gotten a different story.<br/><br/>He approached once finished, running his hands along the smooth, shiny planes of Ursalo's chest in admiration, and gave him another grin.  "What do you think...?  Still want to teach me some things....?"  His hands slid around the demon, embracing him so that now they could really touch, could really feel each other without hindrance.  The little skirt around Ursalo's waist was practically nonexistent, would come off without any trouble, and Jera plucked at the fabric playfully to hear the golden discs chime.<br/><br/>"Your turn..."  A soft kiss to Ursalo's collarbone, the easiest place for Jera's lips to reach on someone so tall.  A hot, soft pressure, like the rest of him, and he hummed against the snake's scales with anticipation and excitement.