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Amon's Challenger rumbled out front of the hotel. The Hellcat Widebody was a burnt red-purple color, with a custom dodge hood ornament on the top. A luxurious black interior that smelled lightly of sage greeted Simon as he stepped in.
Amon had warned him to dress for roughing it. For Amon, this meant knee high heeled boots, tight denim pants that left nothing to the imagination, and a plaid fitted sleeveless buttonup. Slid allllll the way back as far as the seat would go so he had plenty of room and was on good display for Simon.
Simon... does not really know what roughing it even means, but has bought some hiking boots that don't look even remotely broken in, jeans, and a short sleeve athletic wear shirt. No glasses on today. He has a designer leather backpack slung over a shoulder, but doesn't look very full.
He steps out of the lobby and to the car, glancing it over a moment before climbing inside. He looks... cautious and uncertain, but not yet angry. A glance over at him, staring a moment. "...You look ridiculous. How are you going to walk in those?"
"One foot in front of the other." He gestures so Simon can toss his bag in the back. "Besides, you know I look good."
He slides the bag into the back seat, eyeing him a moment before shrugging. "It is... a look." He buckles in.
Oh yeah, he is definitely googling. Especially at the boots.
"They're custom, if you were wondering," says Amon with a smirk before putting it in drive to start off. "Though they'll need cleaned after."
"I imagine so," he agrees, looking out the window as they get going. "Are we going to any particular place?"
"I know a place," says Amon as he turns on the radio. He seems to default to R&B, giving Simon a look out the side of his eyes as if to dare him.
Simon's lips purse the faintest bit, but doesn't comment. Let's be honest here--he has a 16 year old. He's been forced to listen to worse.
And so Simon is treated to a very long car ride filled with Nicki Minaj talking about getting her salad tossed. Amon seems pleased as can be to leave them in silence, damning Simon to take in the sights, view the real sight in the car, or heaven forbid, start a conversation.
Is the car ride more than an hour long?
It is intentionally about 2 hours long.
Simon has gotten pretty good at being discreet about this whole second mouth thing. But Amon knows it's there. So it's easy enough to tell that half way during the car ride, Simon digs out some fancy as fuck snacks from his bag to munch on. And while Amon is focused on the road, palms a piece and pretends to casually scratch at the back of his scalp while slipping the bit of food into his hair.
Amon sees the opening to test if the mouth works with him or on its own.
When the other does so, he reaches over at that exact moment to dig his hands into the snacks sitting in the other's lap distractingly so that perhaps he's not as careful given the potential of, well, empty popcorn bucket tricks
Simon does seem a little caught off guard by Amon's hand suddenly reaching for his lap, hand jolting a little--but there doesn't seem to be any notable bite as his fingers pull back in time before getting nibbled at. He gives Amon a Look as he drops his hand, moving the bag so it rests in between them instead. "...You have been settling into the city well?" he asks, finally breaking the heavy silence.
"Well enough. Ran into someone I knew from Baltimore briefly. He's something of a master jeweler, but a bit of a recluse," notes Amon. "Very good with his hands." But he certainly is munching down on snacks. "It's good you brought things for the road. Otherwise, we'd have to stop and get Doritos or something. We may still."
His nose wrinkles a little in disgust. "What is his name?"
"Drake Pike. Why? Have someone you'd like some jewelry for?" teases Amon.
"Merely curious if I had heard of him or not. I try to keep track of skilled artisans. But it doesn't ring any bells." He shrugs. "Are you having anything made?"
"I'm considering it. I've him doing a bit of leatherwork for me now," says Amon with a smirk. "It seems he's added to his repertoire between when we've met."
He side-eyes Amon for a moment before taking some snacks to idly munch on. "I see."
"What? You don't think I'd look good in leather?" challenges Amon.
He lets out a sigh, settling back into his chair a bit while looking out the window again. "You know you do." Topic change! "Have you been to this place very often? It's... very far out, isn't it? Are we almost there?"
"It's still about another hour - well, half of that of driving," says Amon conversationally. "Then the rest walking."
Annoyance flickers over his features, still staring out the window, but he doesn't complain, at least. He pulls out his phone to tinker with for the rest of the drive.
When they pulled up into what is honestly the fuck middle of nowhere, and in fact paid for the privilege of doing so from a small booth, that annoyance likely climbs as Amon just cuts the engine and gets out. He makes his way around to the trunk to get out his survival gear. "When you see the sights, you'll forgive me," assures Amon.
Simon grabs up his bag and snacks, shoving them into his backpack. (And taking a moment to feed the mouth again while Amon is busy getting the survival gear out.) He shoulders the backpack and looks around, expression irritable. "We'll see about that."
"We will," murmurs Amon to himself.
And then comes the hiking! Amon is chipper the whole way, carrying a large set of equipment that will likely make life easier later, but now? Now, it looks miserable. But he's just smiling as can be. "Have you ever been camping before?"
SImon doesn't offer to help carry shit. Amon brought this upon himself. He follows along, eyeing Amon's feet as he hikes in the heels, waiting to see if he trips up. Maybe so he can shout I told you so.
"No. Not what most people would consider camping, at least." Because a luxury resort in the woods doesn't really count and he knows it.
"Then this will be very much a new experience," says Amon as they trek on out. "... Thank you, for coming out with me. I know it's not really your thing, but I wanted to share it with you."
"... We aren't staying the night out here, are we?" Simon asks with mounting horror as he looks around.
"Oh we are."
Simon frowns at him, then looks around again. "Is there a cabin out here...?"
Amon laughs. "Of course there's no cabin. I'm carrying our tent." He looks over. "You agreed to go camping. A cabin in the woods is a good horror movie, but not camping."(edited)
Simon scowls at him, stopping walking. He pulls out his phone to tap at, but... alas, no service. He makes a frustrated sound, looking around more worriedly. (Can roll Empathy!)(edited)
Does he seem... afraid? It makes sense, in a way. So far out of his comfort zone, away from civilization. He's probably never been out in the woods without creature comforts or security in his whole life. The woods are dark and scary. Not to mention the uncertainty of his relationship with Amon. His hand strays to the back of his head as well, likely wondering how the hell he's going to keep it hidden all night.
"I think it'll be good. We'll be able to get to know one another again. Really get to know one another," says Amon with a smile. "And I think taking you fishing for your dinner will be a sight."
Simon doesn't say anything. Just follows in silence, face set into a displeased expression.
When there arrive at their destination, it's a bit higher up than most around it. There's a few trees by, and there's a little creek filling into a small lake in sight. A strange old set of pathways mostly grown over, meet across this hill.
"Here we are." Amon drops down the bags he's been carrying and then gets to work on setting up. "Are you going to pout all night, or would you like to give me a hand?" teases Amon. "Don't worry, I can try to fix you up."
Simon pauses as they reach their destination. Even with only carrying his light backpack, he looks sweaty and miserable. But he does take a moment to look around. Maybe, just maybe, appreciating the view. For a moment, at least. Then he turns to eye Amon. "This was your idea. I think you can manage it yourself."
"It'll be worth it just after sundown," assures Amon before he gets to work. Finally, finally, finally he takes off those boots which must have been killer on the ankles, but he'd managed so well in them. And he seems to oddly walk often on the balls of his feet anyway.
The camp gets set up fairly quickly. The net turns out to be a hammock, which is one of the first thing tied between some trees for Simon to settle on. There's some water and shade for the other to relax and sway in the breeze should he want. The tent goes up next, with a tarp over top just in case. Then a firepit dug in the middle of those crossed paths, where things are set up and smores supplies are placed just in case Simon wants to try while Amon goes fishing.
Which he's not at too terribly long before he's brought back a few bass that he makes quick work of scaling and getting smoking over the fire. It's become clear that Amon is very good at this.(edited)
Simon looks somewhat appeased once the hammock has been put up. Because sitting on the ground sounds awful. Still, even while he lounges back in it, he looks grumpy and annoyed. But there's not much else to occupy his mind right now--so he watches Amon set up camp. Then fishes. Then scales and cooks the fish. He looks increasingly bemused by all this. When the fuck did Amon learn to be an outdoorsman???
It seems strange. Amon was always very much a fan of pampering and the parts of society that just seemed to speak to him. He'd not once in the years they'd known each other mentioned going camping, fishing, even hiking. Who wanted to hike in heels? But this Amon does.
As the sun starts setting, Amon uses some seasoning to work into the fish before putting a small pot out, using some fresh water, and whipping up some instant potatoes to go with it. Man seems like he's had this whole thing planned. As the grasshoppers start to sing and the fireflies start to come to life, the sky practically opens up as a blanket of stars above them.
Amon takes the very contained set of dinnerware part of his gear, and makes certain Simon has a bit of everything to hand over to the one in the hammock with a smile. "It's a lot of work, but it's not so bad."
Simon still didn't move, just watching Amon do all the work with more and more confusion. He looks less angry now, and just... uncertain and watching Amon like he's looking at a stranger. He takes the food though, and tries a cautious bite. "...It's not bad."
It's certainly not what anyone would find in a restaurant, but it really isn't bad. He's definitely eaten worse at a restaurant. And then probably had that restaurant permanently closed. It is Simon.
"The view's good, too. Weiser State Forest's pretty. We're not too far - we could call it the same place," says Amon before looking over as he fixes himself a plate. "You can complain now. I know you're missing television."
"It is... pretty out here." But he seems to be growing more and more nervous with the sun going down. "I don't watch much television," he replies with a glare. "But I miss having shelter, running water, a toilet, and air-conditioning, yes."
"We have shelter. There's a creek for running water. I can't make a line for AC, but the world is your toilet," jokes Amon with a grin as he plucks at his foot. "Trust me, you're safe here."
Amon eats somewhat ravenously. "The first few times I tried things like this, I would've killed for this kind of creature comforts. Killed."
Simon continues to eat grumpily, but clearly doesn't believe that he's safe here. "Where did you learn all this?"
"A much more dangerous place than this," says Amon. "Where every shadow is something trying to eat you." Maybe he's just getting the other all fired up, but it has the ring of something truly menacing to it. Amon had avoided violence out of a sense of morality - not out of weakness. Right now, it's like he can practically touch the fear...
Then Amon laughs, smiling as he so casually dismisses the worries in a moment. "You're safe with me, Simon. You don't have to be afraid."
Simon frowns at him, unsure what to make of Amon's... explanation. He shivers as the fear rolls over him, the glamour cold and dark as it's tempted out and sucked away. Oh so fulfilling for the Autumn courtier.
As the moment passes, Simon's eyes half lid momentarily. He looks more tired, but... at ease. Calmer. He watches Amon a moment, then takes another bite of fish, nodding. "Alright."
Simon finishes off his food - he seems to have gotten... strangely protective of it? And very quick at eating. But once he was done, he went to rinse that off and start setting up smores - the good ones with reeces instead of just normal chocolate. He holds out the first one to the other. "It's a beautiful night. I never get tired of seeing the stars."
Simon notes the protectiveness of the food, brows creasing briefly, but doesn't comment on it. He eats far slower, still politely even in the rough environment. Once it's finished he sets it aside, and accepts a smore. He... likely has never eaten a smore before, as he wrinkles his nose at it a bit before trying a bite, trying not to get it all over him.
He glances up as he chews. "Mm. It is beautiful," he admits.
"I didn't see the stars for so, so long," says Amon. He goes to make his own smore, back turned to Simon. "When I finally did, it just cemented my love for it."
He looks over his shoulder. "Would your other mouth like one too?"
His brows knit tighter as he stares at Amon, growing more and more curious. But before he can say anything, he asks that and sends Simon damn near joking on a bite of smore, sending graham cracker sputtering everywhere.
"You know food's supposed to go down the other pipe, right? That one's for air." Amon fixes another smore, then comes forward to hand it and a canteen to Simon.
"I..." He rubs his mouth off, watching him intently. "You... know?"
"I know of it, yes. Not... why, but there are many things one can know." He keeps the canteen held out before going to eat his smore.
Simon accepts the canteen slowly, eyes narrowed. "How?"
"I've seen it. You're not as subtle as you think," comments Amon.
His eyes remain narrowed. "...Why didn't you say anything? You're taking this very... calmly."
"I've seen much, much worse." Amon's voice held a cold chill for the moment, and he stepped back. The fireflies seemed to instinctually flee the area as Amon started walking backwards, eyes on Simon.
Simon sits up--which is a bit hard to do in a hammock, making it wobble. It's... kind of humors as he fumbles to get out of hit, legs kicking before he gets his feet underneath him. He smooths down his shirt, trying to draw back some dignity before focusing on him intently. "What are you?"
"Seeing is believing," says Amon as he continues moving back. When he finally steps onto coals.
The inferno of glamour races up Amon's body. The mask burned away as if the man was made of straw, and it made him cry out in pain as the flames enveloped his body.
What stepped forward was not the Amon he knew. The cloven hooved devil was covered head to toe in tar that flamed out. Even more so, he stood as one body made for sin, flicking tail one way, then the other. The man's head was crowned in horns that made him even larger, and the hand that came out towards Simon was as soft, inviting even.
"What do you see?" hisses out Amon with forked tongue.
The fear was muted, thankfully. It had been drained away, leaving a wide-eyed expression of shock. He takes a few staggering steps back, which makes him hit the hammock and nearly topple backwards over it. Then he goes still, staring, mouth hanging open.
"...A demon," he mutters softly.
"Devil," corrects Amon. "Demons are less important. Slavering beasts. Devils are refined." He doesn't approach, waiting to let the mortal cower as one does from the unholy divinity. "Be not afraid."
With his fear stolen, it's awe and curiosity that comes to the forefront, once the shock starts to pass. But he still isn't moving closer. Simon looks him slowly up and down, taking in the changes to his body. "...You were in Hell. Literally. Weren't you?"
"At least a Hell," confirms Amon. The devil opens his arms, letting Simon take in all of that otherworldly figure. "A prison with no safety. One which I could not escape - only survive long enough to pass through my sentence."
"How... *Why?" Simon breathes, frowning deeply. "Was it our sins?" Not just Amon's. His too.
"I made a deal with the wrong person. Seven years good luck, in exchange for ten years of service." Amon let Simon take that mental math trip. It had seemed blessed how easily Amon was able to take care of them both. How all his deals turned out profitable for them both. The way that people seemed to throw themselves at him just for him to use them for them both.
Simon falls quiet at that, face falling. He looks away, staring at the fire still burning past him. His fingers curl into fists at his sides as he... works through that.
"An offhand comment to a stranger in a bar, and that's what happens. I didn't realize for much of it, but by the end... I knew," admits Amon. "I didn't remember exactly how much time, but I tried to do right by your family."
His eyes close for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he looks back at Amon, he says something that Simon has said very, very, very few times in his life.
"I'm sorry," he mutters softly, voice thick.
"Sorry?" asks Amon as if the word was foreign to him. "Why are you sorry?"
"That I assumed the worst of your intentions. That I thought you had abandoned us," he replies in a low voice. "...That you paid the price alone for my success."
"I signed before I met you," says Amon quietly. He takes a hesitant step closer. "I could meeting you that night as the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. You gave me purpose. Family."
Simon tries very hard to keep his composure, to keep everything under wraps, to look uneffected. But Amon's words strike something inside him that just... breaks. He blinks rapidly to try to clear them, but his eyes are turning glossy, glinting reflected firelight.
"You meant... quite a lot to Margo," he says softly. "She would be happy to hear that."
The devil reaches out, but doesn't touch. Offering that comfort with everything he could without pressing the boundary. "She meant the world to us both. Now... Now we have to make sure that we do as well as she'd want us to."
Simon starts to say something, then quiets himself, looking away. "Yes. I suppose you're right. She'd be glad to know you are well. She... mourned you, you know. For so long."
"You're not well, Simon," says Amon quietly. "Let's help each other. Try to be there for one another when we can. Help each other live better in honor of Margo's wishes. You and me both, Simon. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
His mouth opens and closes once, before he lets out a soft, bitter laugh. "I'm not going to live much longer, Amon," he says softly. "But... yes. It's... what she would want."
"If you'd stop drinking like you think it's water, that might help," says the Devil as the bargain is sealed.
"I don't mean because of the booze, Amon," Simon says softly.
"I don't mean to pull teeth, but can you elaborate at all?" asks Amon.
"I'm cursed," he replies, gesturing to the back of his head. "I had my own run in with... something dark and evil." He hesitates, then swallows. "It's what killed Margo. And left me... like this. Sooner or later, this... thing will devour me whole."
"We'll see about that," muses Amon. "I know it keeps you up at night. How are your dreams?"
"I don't tend to sleep long enough to dream," he admits. "When I do, it's restless. Wait--how do you know it keeps me up at night?" His eyes narrow.
Amon just waves a hand over his entire devil form as if that explains it.
"...Have you been spying on me?" He frowns deeper.
"You swore a promise to me. Now I can see you practically anywhere you go." Amon rolls his eyes. "You can shrug off the devil, a weird mouth eating you from the inside out, but not that I can know things? You have a very strange sense of priorities in your view."
"I value my privacy very much, Amon," he says in a low voice, still frowning.
"You shouldn't. Magic is very real and it's very much everywhere. Privacy is an illusion."
Simon straightens, drawing himself up to his full height as he stares intently up at him. "You will respect my wishes, illusion or no. I want you to stop watching me unless I give you my permission," he says in a stern voice.
"No," says the devil simply.
Simon stares for a moment, then turns to start walking away, back towards the trail they came down from the car.
"Let me make something very clear, Simon," begins Amon as he turns every bit of that dark anger back at the other. "I do not answer to you. I have lived on instinct, and that instinct says to keep an eye on you." The devil approaches with the fire behind his eyes. "I have been accommodating, but I will not give free reign for you to dictate to me when you have no idea what dangers lurk in the greater world beyond you, for your general preference." Then there's a bellow. "Do not walk away from me while I'm talking to you."
As Simon thinks back on the situation on his walk down the hill, certain things might stick out. Simon asked for a promise with no caveats. To only use power that Amon spoke of in regards to dangers. The same sort of offhanded deal he made with a stranger that landed him in one of many Hells. He's mentioned already that he considers the man family, and wanted to protect him. Each time he's moved to try to limit the space between them, Simon's notably kept distance, likely contributing to not feeling so human or connected. And then, Simon walked away, and Amon flipped directly into anger as yet again, he lost someone else.
Simon has always been a proud man. And a very stubborn man. He built up a life for himself and worked hard at it, and believes that he carved it out for himself. (Even if he did admittedly have a lot of help--especially from Amon.) He's also not a man who takes being told no very easily. Right now he's feeling disrespected and like Amon is treating him like a child that can't take care of themselves. And on top of that, feels like Amon doesn't care about the boundaries he's trying to put into place, doesn't care about what makes him comfortable and happy. His reaction is mostly out of stubbornness, wounded pride, and discomfort.
Simon pauses when Amon bellows, giving a cold glance over his shoulder. A glance that was meant to be fleeting, but then his steps slow and he watches the devil with a tense stare, lips pursed tightly, his back lit up by the flickering firelight.
He turns slowly to face him, his arms crossed. "I realize you are... concerned. But I don't need to be watched constantly like I'm some bumbling helpless toddler, Amon."
The devil's eyes rimmed red... and then overflowed with it. As the strain of casting out the Mask finally hit, the bloody tears flowed. Amon wiped at them with the palm of a hand, smearing tar and blood across a cheek. "I wasn't the only one, Simon," he says low. "More people... were taken. Disappearing. What if you just.... disappear one day? Am I supposed to not look for you because I don't have permission? I... I won't ever agree to that." The horned one moves towards the fire to start kicking dirt onto it to quench it. "I won't."
"...Amon..." The cold chill in his stare softens. His fists clench tighter, then unclench to lift a hand to rub over his face. A slow, heavy exhale. "If you really have cause to believe I'm in trouble... I understand. But I don't want you to look just... for the sake of it. Just because you can."
The devil crouches to use his hands to kill the fire. His voice is a whisper on the wind. "What if they take you, and I don't notice in time? What if they come when my guard's down? What happens if they take you while I sleep? That's... that's hours behind..."
"I refuse to live my life controlled by fear," Simon says in a soft voice. He steps closer to the fire--and the devil. Slow and... not quite cautious, but hesitant still. He stops just behind him. "Surely you cannot watch me twenty four hours a day, every day, can you? There will be times you are not here. There will always be a chance something will happen to me. And not just this. I could be hit by a car tomorrow. Or my Doom will come for me and I'll be devoured by this entity. Fate is... fickle, and cruel."
"Fate is fickle, but can be bargained with." From where the devil was crouched as the last of the flames died away, he looked up to Simon, eyes reflecting like a predator's. "I can't watch you always, no." A pause. "Fear keeps you safe. I've been sleeping 20 to 30 minutes at a time."
"...Why? Because you are afraid they will come for you?" His brows crease.
He shakes my head. "I do not want them to come for you."
He scoffs softly. "And you expect to be able to fight anyone off while sleep deprived?" Says the man constantly drunk and sleep deprived.....
"Says the drunk who doesn't sleep," shoots back Amon.
"I have no choice. I would love to have a full night's sleep. You have a choice, Amon."
"I'm making a choice," he says before rising back up. "My choice is to try to keep you safe. I wasn't here to help protect Margo." More of those bloody tears fall.
That makes him flinch, looking away again. He blinks rapidly a few times, then lets out a heavy sigh. "Amon... Her death wasn't your fault..."
"No, not my fault, but if I'd been here... maybe I could have done something," he whispers, looking to the ground. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts you more than me when I... bring her up."
"...I've had time to mourn her. You haven't. I... don't resent you needing to talk about it," he says in a tense voice. It does hurt, but he seems to mean the words.
A second of hesitation, then he reaches out to tentatively touch the tar covered arm.
It's sticky, but in not the worst way? A bit like playing with heated oil. Amon goes rather still at the touch. "I miss her," he admits in a low, painful voice. "If... If I'd known, maybe I could've... made some deal to make you both luckier while I was there..."
"...It would have increased your sentence, would it have not?" He's unsure what to make about the sensation, but he doesn't pull away, letting his fingers rest lightly against his bicep.
"Sentences only go up. There is no such thing as good behavior in lockup," says Amon with a slow nod.
"She wouldn't have wanted you to do that, then. You know she wouldn't have."
Amon doesn't have a way to argue against that, just looking off to the side. After a moment, he speaks. "This is it. You were suspicious? This is me. This is what I am, under it all."
"I already apologized for being suspicious." He draws his hand back, looking at the smudges of black tar on his fingers. "Do you... always look like this? Or can you shapeshift?"
Instead of answering with his words, Amon closes his eyes and shrinks down as his skin peels back and off like a molted husk, a black viper in his place. If Simon doesn't move, it slithers up his leg, maybe even chest, to ultimately sit across his shoulders.
There's definitely a stagger back in surprise, eyes widening. But as the viper slither closer Simon freezes, going rigid as SnakeAmon slithers up his leg and settles around his shoulders. "....I see," he breathes out, clearly unnerved. But he just stands there, staring at the viper's head.
The tongue flicks out to taste the air. After a moment, the head pulls back and the weight grows, until Simon has a sexy devil pressed behind him, arms across his shoulder briefly until he steps back and away.
His hand lifted half way, as if he'd maybe try tentatively petting the snake (hurhur), but stops just short. He blinks as Amon holds him briefly, head tilting to look over his shoulder to stare at Amon, expression thoughtful. "...It's not a bad look for you, you know."
"Which? The snake or the man of where nightmares meet wet dreams?" asks Amon with that forked tongue.
"I meant the latter, but... both." Simon considers him a moment, then turns around to face him. "I won't ask you to stop checking on me, in general. But if there is ever a time that I wish to be alone--truly alone, or to have privacy with another, will you respect that and not look until the requested time is over? Unless you have cause to believe I am in trouble?"
Amon considers that one longer before nodding. "That... that is acceptable. I wanted to know you, and... I didn't want to lose you," admits Amon. "Not again."
Simon nods lightly in acceptance, then offers out his hand. Maybe to shake? Maybe to hold?
Amon studies him...
Simon's hand is angled more for a handshake. But there is a hint of yearning in his eyes. A need for touch and contact.
Amon presses his luck. While the other looks for the handshake deal, Amon takes it with the other hand, lacing those oily fingers with the man's and gently holding it. "Do you want to touch anything?" asks Amon with a nervously flicking tail. "I don't mind you... exploring."
Simon looks uncertain for a moment, but... doesn't pull away. At least not immediately. "...Are you sure?" he asks, also a little uncertain.
"I'd rather you touch than... be afraid of it," decides Amon before bending down more. "Is it the horns? You'd be surprised how many people are turned on by the horns."
"I'm not afraid of you," he replies, eyeing him. His other hand lifts to touch the horns lightly. A quick poke at first, before he blinks and grips one for a light tug, as if half expecting it to pop off of Amon's head. Alas, it's very solid, and when he ends up jerking Amon's head he lefts go. "I suppose I can see the appeal."
Amon did go with it, having him pull him wherever he wanted. "You've got options with them," comes Amon's joke. "Is it just suppose?" Then Amon's tail comes round to pat pat the man's thigh.
More than just suppose. The idea of pulling them around is definitely alluring, if the way he's eyeing him is anything to go by...
He looks down at the tail, reaching out to touch the tip of it too. "This appears quite nimble."
"Pretty much. It's about like... a closed fist? Can't grip anything, but it could poke you," says Amon quietly. "... That turn you on as much as the horns do?"
He draws his hand back, letting go of Amon's hand. The answer is definitely yes, but he doesn't say it. A thoughtful look to Amon. "Are you used to people sexualizing you when you're like this? You're... okay with it?'
"I'm always like this, if I'm not one of the animals. You just can't experience it normally," Amon explains. He doesn't reach out to touch the other since he pulled his hands back. "Grow a pair, Simon. Say what you're thinking."
"You didn't answer the question," Simon points out. "If it bothers you, for people to sexualize you." He seems to want the answer before he says what he's thinking.
"No, it doesn't," answers Amon. "I wasn't an incubus, but I tried to keep fit..."
He nods faintly, looking him over. "You know you're attractive, Amon. We... both know that. Like this, you are... strange, admittedly, but it doesn't change the fact that you are... incredibly handsome."
Amon visibly hesitates, then slowly says, "You know, I kind of like the grey on you..."
Simon blinks, caught off guard by the comment. Then he looks... sheepish? "You don't have to pander to me, Amon," he says softly, as if thinking Amon were merely pitying him.
"When have you known me to bullshit you?" asks Amon before taking his time undressing the other with his eyes. "... Is it everywhere?"
He gives Amon a Look, running a hand through his hair. "Did you plan on seducing me, bringing me out here with only one tent?"
"Two sleeping bags," says Amon with a little x over his chest. "But if you wanted to let me get a look... I'd enjoy it. A lot."
Simon is... torn. There's definitely lust there, but he's not ready to deal with the emotional backlash that would come from having sex or getting closer like that. There's still a lot of raw heartache there. But yearning, too.
Simon stares at the put out fire for a moment, scratching lightly along his scalp before he drops his hand. "...I suppose I'll need to change to sleep, anyway. I don't mind you... looking." Looking, but not ready for more yet.
Amon holds up a hand. "No sex tonight. I... I want to maybe ask for something else, but even that might be too much. But if you're going to see the show, you should see the whole show."
And then, Amon began to strip.
And, of course, his shirt gets... stuck to him from the tar build up. He stops, grunting, then looking to Simon. "... A little help?"
He nods faintly at the mention of no sex, looking back to watch him start to strip. Then he just... stares... and bursts out laughing as the shirt gets tangled. "It's... rather sticky, isn't it?" He steps closer, reaching out to grip the shirt to help him peel it off. "Does it never wash off, even after bathing?"
"What is it you wish to ask for?"
"No, it doesn't," says Amon with a sigh. "There's always more. On the other hand, it makes for a great natural lube. But the dry cleaning bills..."
Once the shirt was off, he pauses, then reaches up and grabs onto his own horns to not influence/control Simon as the man went to strip down his lower extremities - one portion of which is looking quite extreme, even in the pants.
"I wanted to watch the sunrise with you in the hammock." Admittedly, the pose said You can do anything you want to me, but it did technically not press...
"That sounds... very uncomfortable." Simon is trying not to look disgusted at the thought, but... the man is finicky as fuck. There's no way he could stand being covered in tar constantly, himself.
He hesitates as it becomes clear Amon wants him to help with his pants. He eyes him a moment with a flash of irritation, but... then crouches to pull them down and help him step out of them. Though he pauses to stare at the hooved feet thoughtfully now that he's able to get a closer look. He reaches out, brushing a hand over one of the hooves.
"...Ah." Just a soft sound of reply, not yet looking up at him.
'You get used to it," he says as the other stripped him down. While Amon had always been a subscriber to the BBC, we shall just hope that Simon is a size king or much will never happen again.
Then Amon is lifting that cloven foot to settle and apply just a slight bit of pressure on one of the crouching man's thighs. "Touch them. Now you see why heels are more comfortable." Given the rest of his foot is hiked up naturally in the right pose for the heel.
Simon blinks as the hoof presses against his thigh. He stares down at it, more fixated on his foot than the penis hanging not far from his head. But he'd always loved heels. Maybe the hooves were close enough to be... at least intriguing.
He touches the hoof again, feeling out the firmness of it, then trailing his hand up to along his ankle. There's certainly interest in his eyes, but--well, it's also really fucking weird, and he's obviously trying to... make sense of it in his head.
But then he pulls his hand back and pushes to his feet, looking back up to his eyes. "The heels do make sense, now. I won't tease you again for wearing them." He looks towards the hammock thoughtfully. "I suppose the hammock would be more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. Are you sure it's safe out here? There's not... bears or whatever?"
"If a bear appears, I will turn into a hellhound and kill it for us to have a throw rug made of," offers Amon with a smile. He returns to the good boy hands pose, made even lewder now as he looks over Simon. "We both know my heels always make you hard. Do the hooves?"
"Part of me wants to ask if you want help with your own show and tell," murmurs Amon as he eyefucks the other, then clears his throat as if reminding himself to be good.
"They are... intriguing. I'm not quite sure what that means to me yet. But intriguing." He purses his lips, eyeing him. "You are certain you can... behave yourself if I'm nude?"
"...Perhaps it'd be best for me not to be nude," he mutters. But he does step back and start pulling his shirt off. Alas, there's an undershirt underneath that he leaves on.
Amon stays where he's set, taking a look over the other's body. No hint of more body hair yet to confirm or not if the grey is everywhere, but he's not done yet... is he?
He seems particularly fixated on Amon's hooves and tail. Probably curious what it'd feel like to be touched by the tail. And... well, being stepped on by the hooved definitely had caught his attention, so...
But even if his mind is wandering and curious, he does still seem to be putting that boundary up. He's not ready for anything sexual.
He removes his pants as well, and then his shoes and socks. He frowns down at the ground, not enjoying the sensation of his bare feel on soil, but also not wanting to ruin the socks. Such a prissy thing.
"Tease," breathes out Amon. "You were doing this so I could know if the grey went everywhere. You could at least tell me," murmurs Amon before he climbs into the hammock. If Simon got closer, the tail snaked over to hook around him to urge him in.
"I am the tease?" He perks a brow. "You're the one posing like you're getting photographed for a porno," he says dryly. He watches him climb into the hammock, then looks to the tent. "Do you have... a blanket? It's cold."
"Two sleeping bags," says Amon. "But you won't want both. I'm very warm." He looks over himself, then to Simon. "You know I like to pose. It makes me feel sexy."
He goes to drag out one of the sleeping bags, unzipping it so it can be used as a blanket. He steps over to the hammock with it and hesitantly climbs in. "I do have some grey on my chest."
Amon made a noise at the back of his throat before looking off to the side. "... One day, if you want me to, I'd love to see that." Then he looked back. "Can I... put my arms around you?"
He watches Amon, brows creasing faintly. "...You really still find me attractive?" The question makes him look away, but he gives a slight nod in reply.
Amon's arms went around, and into his ear when the devil's whisper. "If I wasn't afraid I'd push you too far, I'd love nothing better than to grab you by the hair and make you worship my hooves. Maybe step on you a bit while I fucked you with my tail. Worked you open beforehand with my tongue because it's probably been a while. Has it? Doesn't matter. I'd finish by laying you sideways on this swing and watching every bit of your body and expression as I gaped your hole." He let out a shuddering breath. "Which is to say fuck yes, I find you attractive still."
Simon frowns, looking away with a sigh. "You really don't know how to stop while you're ahead, do you? But... I'm glad you still do."
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