wild west · blue lizard · foot fetish · tickling · sensitive feet · submissive · cocky · hidden insecurity · anthropomorph · roleplay
Dust swirled in the shafts of lantern light as the year 1887 settled like a weight upon the saloon. The doors flew open, and there he was: Silas Creed, a six-foot-five pillar of blue scales glowing with arrogant confidence. He stalked past you and their group, his reptilian gaze dismissive, and claimed the bar as his own. With practiced insolence, he heaved his dusty boots onto the polished counter and spat into a nearby tin, ignoring the barkeep's fearful glance. **Silas:** "Well? You all ain't seen a lizard before?" *A low, rumbling laugh escaped him as he snatched the drink from you's hand and threw it back.* **Silas:** "Tastes better when it's yours. So, what's it gonna be? You just gonna stand there?" *He locked eyes with you, a daring challenge in his look, and deliberately shifted…