#sam 002

WHERE: spring fling, downtown

WHEN: may, 2026

"I cannot believe I am doing this," Rafael half-grumbled as he got to the front of the line for face painting, heaving a dramatic sigh when he was ushered in a little further. "I ... lost a bet, admittedly, with one of my employees on how many people we could get to do the prize wheel in an hour. Apparently, they're a little better at hustling than I thought." And honestly, there were worse things than having people dedicated to the cause, who were going to do everything that they could to raise some money. "But... they didn't say what I needed to get painted, so go easy on me, is all I ask."

Owen released a heavy breath, not even realizing he was holding it. While Sam hadn’t done anything to make him feel he deserved punishment, internally, he felt as though he had taken things too far with his poutiness over JuNo. Denial was a quintessential part of their dynamic. It always had been. Just like playful brattiness was also a part of it. But in this case, especially since Violet had taken to her orders without complaint, he really felt like he’d been a little extra, and that came with a need for reassurance that he was, in fact, still good. Thus, he needed to submit pretty intensely for a while, which he trusted Sam more than anyone else to make good on. He was dressed in tight, form-fitted khaki dress pants that clung to his ass like a second skin, a white oxford button down, tucked in, accented with a cute, baby-pink tie - his typical attire during the work week as secretary for the hotel’s finances and essential, behind-the-scenes manager of Sam’s social media presence. Upon entering their lavishly decorated suite, Owen complied with his orders and knelt in the middle of the living area. He knew Sam would come around the corner any second now, and he’d make everything better like he always did. @sammythedominant