The kit, for his part, was having a good day. Sure, he'd gone three weeks without making a dime when his savings had long since run out, and he'd barely scraped together enough in a weekend to make rent. But he didn't care so much right now. Mostly because right now the was going to get to see a certain foxy gentlemen he could never get enough of.
Rat-a-tat-tat on the door, followed by a faux-British-accented " 'Ellooo? Burglar, sir." Somebody had been getting into Simon's Monty Python lately.
Pajama'd legs toddle over to the door with a hand against the wall. Oh, what a good way to start his evening. Smiling wide, Cameron quietly chuckles to the barely open sliver in the door. "You're not selling encyclopedia's, are you?"
"Nope, just here to steal a few things." The boy leans against the door and grins, poking a bit of tongue out at his friend as is his habit. Those long-fingered hands paw at the door. "Lemme in. lemme in, I wanna see," he whines playfully. Boy is excited about the new homestead.
Grooooan. "It looks awful, ducky." Says He, the prissy priest. Clearly he's not for being humble.
The door opens and a hand extends to hook and tug the boy inward by his belt loops. Inside is... waterstained and in dire need of some good ol' sprucing. "Ta da." Aaand it's back to the pile of crumpled newsprint and his bottle of merlot.
"Not much. But it'll do me quite well for starters." Plus the room next door is paid, as well. Another fake wall is in order.
"Aw, it's homey..." Yes, homey. Lawrence didn't exactly grow up in Buckingham Palace, after all. He saunters in, turning around and peering here and there to get a better look at things. Room, bathroom, shower... bathtub? Maybe please?
"How're you thinkin' of laying out the furniture? Futon, maybe?" Hey, at least sleeping arrangements were only the second thing on his mind. That bottle of merlot draws his attention as well, and the boy flops down to take a seat beside the blonde.
Bathtub! It's...covered in limestone buildup, but nothing a good cleaning of CLR won't fix.
Moving funature. Heh...ehehh. Heeehehaha. snrk Cameron finishes giggling into the mouth of the bottle and sets it down. Seriously, now. "Uh. Something up off of the floor. I saw a mouse and don't need those running around in my good sheets. The bedframe is still on its way, and I had to downsize to a twin. Which...I don't mind at all. It just means we'll just have to sleep closer together." >:D Why, yes. He has had quite a bit to drink.
:o "Oh, is that so?" He grins, absolutely scandalized, and swipes that bottle for a swig. No hogging, sir, you're far too pretty for that.
"I dunno, I kinda sprawl out..." A bony shoulder bumps against his friend's perfectly formed one, snuggly as if to demonstrate. Ever so sneakily, his lips make it in close to the priest's ear. "I might just have to sleep on top." He lets that final P pop to an open end, just in case you missed the emphasis there.
Oh, he caught it, all right. The man smiles deviously, a grin of pure mischief, and leans into the space of his young friend. "Oh? Should we size up the space now or when the bed gets 'ere?" Those lips, curved in his grin, pucker in a coy stifle of the smile, though failing with poor efforts. Yes, dear boy. The man is blatantly flirting with you.
And, hey, now. Deprive an Irishman from his booze? A hand paws at a thin thigh while a pout begs for the bottle back. Anything to occupy his mouth. >_>
"We do wanna be sure every inch of us fits before you put it in..." He gives a coy smile of his own in return, a bit more lecherous and with just a hint of probing curiosity. Just how drunk is the priest tonight?
Of course, then there's a certain hand on his thigh. That's really no way to settle the thieving boy, unless by 'settle' you mean 'reduce to a boneless purring heap on the floor.' He retaliates by leaning away, holding the bottle even farther away from his reach. You'll never take him alive! The bottle swings closer only for a momentary swig, which the boy holds in his cheeks, all puffed up and round in full chipmunk glory. Ha! Na-na-na-boo-boo, sir.
It's probably best that Cameron has learned not to drink when you feel happy enough to laugh, because he might have spit out some drink by now. He is definitely pink cheeked and giggly, young sir. Watch yourself, or he may hang all over you.
But, the bottle! How she sways from his reach. Surely the priest must crawl forward, leaning against the legs of his friend to span an arm out for the wine. He even distracts the boy with a kiss, right at the corner of those pretty lips, as he attempts to return the bottle to his possession.
No no no - oh, well... okay, touching is distracting. As is leaning and kissing and - hey, that's hardly fair. Lawrence mrrs in protest, leaning back in an unbalanced and half-hearted attempt to pull out of his reach. This is particularly ineffective when the boy seems equally determined not to part lips with his friend.
He swallows, face scrunching up a moment at the sharp taste of two cheeks-full of liquor passing all at once. Then for part two of his evil plan: kissing back. In theory, this is a Cam-distracting technique - look, the priest can have a taste of his booze and his eager young kit, all at once! Isn't that better than some silly ol' bottle?
And persistent, too. Must kiss. Must smile. And must laugh constantly. Yes, he'll admit that he enjoys the bejebus out of times like these. And, hey! Another fun booze induced shenanigan! Go figure.
As sweet as the victory of being kissed back is for the blond, even with the added bonus of the hint of wine, it's s.. Okay, yeah. Kissing Lawrence is way cooler than a stupid bottle of wine. Consider the man distracted, kid.
His hand leaves the safety of the floor, soon to slide behind and into the boys hair. His fingers weave loosely into the brown strands, cupping the back of Lawrence's head to ease the youth into kissing a little harder. This, of course, means a lack of balance, which means tensing up or falling. If he can manage a slow descent, he'll be happy not to crack the boy's head on the hardwood floor.
Muaha, score. A cocky smile spreads across his lips, but is soon lost in the soft curves of the other pair. Mn - not a sound from the boy, just that moment of ever-so-slight tensing, the single extra degree arch in the curve of his neck; that small but involuntary motion says more than any murmured word.
Another smile, and the boy adds a touch more heat to that kiss with a swipe of tongue, playful on the edge of passionate. It's a miracle the wine bottle doesn't end up on its side as they ease backward. Thick glass bumps against the floor as the boy gropes for balance, then finally levels the bottle enough to release it. Hands and elbows are far better suited for support on his way to the floor.
Rat-a-tat-tat on the door, followed by a faux-British-accented " 'Ellooo? Burglar, sir." Somebody had been getting into Simon's Monty Python lately.
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The door opens and a hand extends to hook and tug the boy inward by his belt loops. Inside is... waterstained and in dire need of some good ol' sprucing. "Ta da." Aaand it's back to the pile of crumpled newsprint and his bottle of merlot.
"Not much. But it'll do me quite well for starters." Plus the room next door is paid, as well. Another fake wall is in order.
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"How're you thinkin' of laying out the furniture? Futon, maybe?" Hey, at least sleeping arrangements were only the second thing on his mind. That bottle of merlot draws his attention as well, and the boy flops down to take a seat beside the blonde.
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Moving funature. Heh...ehehh. Heeehehaha. snrk Cameron finishes giggling into the mouth of the bottle and sets it down. Seriously, now. "Uh. Something up off of the floor. I saw a mouse and don't need those running around in my good sheets. The bedframe is still on its way, and I had to downsize to a twin. Which...I don't mind at all. It just means we'll just have to sleep closer together." >:D Why, yes. He has had quite a bit to drink.
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"I dunno, I kinda sprawl out..." A bony shoulder bumps against his friend's perfectly formed one, snuggly as if to demonstrate. Ever so sneakily, his lips make it in close to the priest's ear. "I might just have to sleep on top." He lets that final P pop to an open end, just in case you missed the emphasis there.
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And, hey, now. Deprive an Irishman from his booze? A hand paws at a thin thigh while a pout begs for the bottle back. Anything to occupy his mouth. >_>
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Of course, then there's a certain hand on his thigh. That's really no way to settle the thieving boy, unless by 'settle' you mean 'reduce to a boneless purring heap on the floor.' He retaliates by leaning away, holding the bottle even farther away from his reach. You'll never take him alive! The bottle swings closer only for a momentary swig, which the boy holds in his cheeks, all puffed up and round in full chipmunk glory. Ha! Na-na-na-boo-boo, sir.
Reply
But, the bottle! How she sways from his reach. Surely the priest must crawl forward, leaning against the legs of his friend to span an arm out for the wine. He even distracts the boy with a kiss, right at the corner of those pretty lips, as he attempts to return the bottle to his possession.
Reply
He swallows, face scrunching up a moment at the sharp taste of two cheeks-full of liquor passing all at once. Then for part two of his evil plan: kissing back. In theory, this is a Cam-distracting technique - look, the priest can have a taste of his booze and his eager young kit, all at once! Isn't that better than some silly ol' bottle?
Reply
As sweet as the victory of being kissed back is for the blond, even with the added bonus of the hint of wine, it's s.. Okay, yeah. Kissing Lawrence is way cooler than a stupid bottle of wine. Consider the man distracted, kid.
His hand leaves the safety of the floor, soon to slide behind and into the boys hair. His fingers weave loosely into the brown strands, cupping the back of Lawrence's head to ease the youth into kissing a little harder. This, of course, means a lack of balance, which means tensing up or falling. If he can manage a slow descent, he'll be happy not to crack the boy's head on the hardwood floor.
Reply
Another smile, and the boy adds a touch more heat to that kiss with a swipe of tongue, playful on the edge of passionate. It's a miracle the wine bottle doesn't end up on its side as they ease backward. Thick glass bumps against the floor as the boy gropes for balance, then finally levels the bottle enough to release it. Hands and elbows are far better suited for support on his way to the floor.
Reply
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