Ursalo was a silent observer as Jera fed his darlings. He did it with such ease, no trace of fear or hesitancy, no artifice, but with a genuine sense of joy and wonder. The elf was completely sincere when he called them beautiful. Ursalo could feel it in the pulse of his fluttering heart, in the golden warmth radiating from his speckled skin.<br/><br/>Jera meant it. Not in the way demons do. For them, beauty meant useful, beauty meant power, beauty was a weapon to be used and bartered and traded. But when Jera said 'beautiful' there was no gleam of ambition in his eyes, no hunger other than the carnal kind. He did not want to possess Ursalo, but only enjoy him for the night.<br/><br/>Ursalo had never known such simplicity, but he was beginning to adore it.<br/><br/>"Flaterrer," Ursalo murmured, the word hissed out of him in a rumbling purr. He took his turn as gently as the rest, leaning forward and letting his jaw fall open so that Jera could carefully place the morsel inside. The cavern of his mouth was dark, but the fire light caught on the needles of his teeth, rows and rows, meant to ensnare and shred anything that was caught in their grasp.