SOFT PRINCE OF DAXAM

Rokk is the one who wears suits showing that much skin. Mon-El’s mind always has to battle the thoughts he was initially taught. Daxam isn’t a very open minded planet. It’s a bigoted hellhole. Lar would never be that. Earth can still be like that.  He can do better. “I would wear anything you wanted, anywhere in the universe, my wife. Do not forget that.”

He preens at her attention. Comfort isn’t a factor in clothing like this. It’s an idiom spoken often by people through the timeline. “Not all of us can wear what you do and get away with it. Imagine me in a tight bodice.  You are too beautiful for these basic designs. I just prefer to be covered... in public at least.”

He tugs at his sleeves, feeling strange in a shirt and tie.  The weight around his neck. He can’t feel a cape. It’s different than the material of his suit. He could flex out of this thin shirt in seconds. His pants aren’t made for running. At least his wife appreciates it.  “All I’m good for, huh?” He smiles, no attitude to his words.   “You should see me with the jacket on.”