#scalesofseduction

It was late at night, or morning, Illyana wasn’t entirely sure where he had landed in the timeframe of night/morning and semantics, but it was dark and he was skulking about trying to get into the kitchen without being noticed because he knew that there had been cake, and if he was lucky no one had snagged all of it. Dressed in a pair of boxers and nothing else, exactly what he wore to bed, he opened the fridge and grinned, “Thank you,” he said, to no one, and reached for it and set it on the counter.