Strange Habits
Title: Strange Habits
Author: anneka_neko
For: sentbyfools
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Henry's beginning to learn that Nicholas has a few strange habits.
For a long time, Lord Blackwood had been downright fascinated by Lord Coward’s beauty. How the man kept his hair so silky and wavy, he hadn’t a clue, and his hands-- all smooth skin and perfect nails-- were absurdly interesting, drawing his eyes constantly. The perfect skin, exquisitely shaped eyebrows, dazzling teeth-- once, he’d looked on all of these things with an intoxicating wonder.
Now, though… well, sleeping with a person can be a real game-changer, and it can reveal that hidden crazy side in a big fat way.
“Nicholas, will you please just come to bed? It’s three o’clock in the morning. What could possibly be important enough that you’re still up?”
Lord Coward (or Nicholas, as, during the post-coital haze, he’d muttered Henry might as well call him at this point) turned crazed eyes on his colleague-slash-lover, and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, “Henry, I can’t go to bed without my things! That’s just… God, why didn’t I think of this? There’s no way I can go home this late!”
Henry groaned, flopping back onto the bed. They’d been over this a dozen times in the past hour or two. “Nicholas, for heaven’s sake-- what things? You have a bed, a pillow, blankets and a bedmate, right here. What more do you need?”
Nicholas twisted his face into a pout that was not adorable, and no, Henry’s heart was not melting at the sight, thank you very much, and replied, “My things. My comb, my brush, my tweezers, my moisturizer, my emery board… my things!”
Henry sat up again, staring at Nicholas, mystified. “…emery board? Tweezers? Moisturizer? What… just what?”
Nicholas ignored him and, apparently succumbing to exhaustion, flopped face-first onto the bed, moaning in an overly dramatic voice, “If I’m hideous in the morning, can you just pretend not to see?”
Henry was bewildered, but he was also very tired, and he settled for a nod and an, “Um… yes, sure. Of course,” before lying down as well and (finally) drifting off to sleep.
When morning came, he saw no difference in Nicholas’ appearance, but decided it was best not to say anything after the visibly agitated man, who seemed to have developed a twitch under his eye, bent his fourth tea spoon.
-
When, a week later, Henry invited Nicholas to his house for dinner, the man had one question.
“Is this an overnight ‘dinner’?”
Henry stared, nonplussed. He’d certainly been entertaining the thought, but the bluntness with which Nicholas had spoken! “Well… I suppose, if you wanted?” he said weakly.
To his surprise, the younger man smiled. “Wonderful,” he said brightly. “I’ll see you at seven, then!” Henry shook his head, watching him walk away. He really is a strange man, he thought fondly.
That night, at precisely three minutes past seven, the butler showed Nicholas into the dining room, where Henry already sat, munching on a roll. He raised an eyebrow as the younger man sat, and, with a small gesture, dismissed the butler. The man bowed and exited. “You're late, Nicholas,” he said lightly.
Nicholas smiled, picking up his knife and fork and beginning on his dinner. “My apologies, my Lord,” and God, the way Nicholas had said those last two words, it made Henry's throat dry, “but I needed to collect a few items before I could come here.”
“Items?”
Nicholas' smile was mysterious, and Henry swallowed.
-
Nicholas was screaming, and the heat was so strong, and stars exploded behind Henry's eyes. He collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, still shivering and twitching in pleasure, and lay there in a warm sort of daze. He was vaguely aware of Nicholas getting up from the bed and heading over to Henry's vanity, sitting down in front of the mirror, but it took Henry a good five minutes to muster enough energy to sit up. When he finally managed to do so, he stared.
“Nicholas?” he asked, confused.
“Hmmm?” Nicholas hummed in reply. He was dabbing his face with a white cream that seemed to come out of a jar in front of him, rubbing it in with the tips of his (warm, graceful, almost dainty, yet terribly powerful-looking) fingers.
“...what are you doing?”
“Using my moisturizer,” he replied contentedly, as though this was an everyday sort of occurrence.
“...why?” Henry asked weakly.
“To keep my skin pretty,” Nicholas answered, and Henry was growing more and more disturbed. Was this normal behavior?
“O-oh. I see.” But Nicholas wasn't replying, and Henry fell silent as well, watching. Nicholas was smiling softly, and really looked as though he was enjoying this. He began humming, and Henry caught a bit of a, “duh duh duh da da duh da da duh,” though he wasn't sure what the tune was, but the whole situation was a bit soothing. The soft light of the lamp on the wall made Nicholas' face glow, soft and golden, and, as he reached into the black bag on the table and pulled out a strange, flat stick and began filing his nails on it, Henry thought he really was incredibly beautiful.
“What's that?” he asked.
“Emery board,” Nicholas smiled.
Henry wasn't completely sure what an emery board was, but the atmosphere was cozy, with a feeling of trust and comfort, and he didn't want to break it. He watched silently, marveling at the smooth, even motions of the slender hands. After finishing his nails, Nicholas pulled out a hairbrush, and Henry watched, entranced, as he brushed his hair until it shone, sparkling in the light, fluffy and airy and perfect. The moment was beautiful, almost painfully so, but Henry broke it anyways, because if this worked, the next moment would be even better.
“Bring that here,” he said softly, and Nicholas looked up in surprise, but he obediently stood and walked over to the bed, handing Henry the brush. Henry gestured for Nicholas to sit in front of him, and he did so, his back facing Henry. Henry reached forward and ran the brush through the impossibly black hair, and, immediately, Nicholas positively melted, slumping backwards until his back was resting against Henry's chest as a long, luxurious moan of pleasure escaped his lips. Henry grinned at the sound and continued, running the fingers of his free hand through Nicholas' hair as well.
Within a few minutes, Nicholas was a puddle of dopey, smiling goo, collapsing bonelessly onto his side of the bed with a serene, near-oblivious grin plastered across his face. Henry was surprised the man wasn't purring. He smiled, putting the brush down on his bedside table, and turned to pull Nicholas into a hug. The younger man let out a sleepy, contented sound and snuggled his head into Henry's chest as he drifted off to sleep.
Henry couldn't help but smile as he slowly stroked Nicholas' hair. The man certainly had some bizarre habits, but Henry definitely felt like he could get used to this.
Author: anneka_neko
For: sentbyfools
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Henry's beginning to learn that Nicholas has a few strange habits.
For a long time, Lord Blackwood had been downright fascinated by Lord Coward’s beauty. How the man kept his hair so silky and wavy, he hadn’t a clue, and his hands-- all smooth skin and perfect nails-- were absurdly interesting, drawing his eyes constantly. The perfect skin, exquisitely shaped eyebrows, dazzling teeth-- once, he’d looked on all of these things with an intoxicating wonder.
Now, though… well, sleeping with a person can be a real game-changer, and it can reveal that hidden crazy side in a big fat way.
“Nicholas, will you please just come to bed? It’s three o’clock in the morning. What could possibly be important enough that you’re still up?”
Lord Coward (or Nicholas, as, during the post-coital haze, he’d muttered Henry might as well call him at this point) turned crazed eyes on his colleague-slash-lover, and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, “Henry, I can’t go to bed without my things! That’s just… God, why didn’t I think of this? There’s no way I can go home this late!”
Henry groaned, flopping back onto the bed. They’d been over this a dozen times in the past hour or two. “Nicholas, for heaven’s sake-- what things? You have a bed, a pillow, blankets and a bedmate, right here. What more do you need?”
Nicholas twisted his face into a pout that was not adorable, and no, Henry’s heart was not melting at the sight, thank you very much, and replied, “My things. My comb, my brush, my tweezers, my moisturizer, my emery board… my things!”
Henry sat up again, staring at Nicholas, mystified. “…emery board? Tweezers? Moisturizer? What… just what?”
Nicholas ignored him and, apparently succumbing to exhaustion, flopped face-first onto the bed, moaning in an overly dramatic voice, “If I’m hideous in the morning, can you just pretend not to see?”
Henry was bewildered, but he was also very tired, and he settled for a nod and an, “Um… yes, sure. Of course,” before lying down as well and (finally) drifting off to sleep.
When morning came, he saw no difference in Nicholas’ appearance, but decided it was best not to say anything after the visibly agitated man, who seemed to have developed a twitch under his eye, bent his fourth tea spoon.
-
When, a week later, Henry invited Nicholas to his house for dinner, the man had one question.
“Is this an overnight ‘dinner’?”
Henry stared, nonplussed. He’d certainly been entertaining the thought, but the bluntness with which Nicholas had spoken! “Well… I suppose, if you wanted?” he said weakly.
To his surprise, the younger man smiled. “Wonderful,” he said brightly. “I’ll see you at seven, then!” Henry shook his head, watching him walk away. He really is a strange man, he thought fondly.
That night, at precisely three minutes past seven, the butler showed Nicholas into the dining room, where Henry already sat, munching on a roll. He raised an eyebrow as the younger man sat, and, with a small gesture, dismissed the butler. The man bowed and exited. “You're late, Nicholas,” he said lightly.
Nicholas smiled, picking up his knife and fork and beginning on his dinner. “My apologies, my Lord,” and God, the way Nicholas had said those last two words, it made Henry's throat dry, “but I needed to collect a few items before I could come here.”
“Items?”
Nicholas' smile was mysterious, and Henry swallowed.
-
Nicholas was screaming, and the heat was so strong, and stars exploded behind Henry's eyes. He collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, still shivering and twitching in pleasure, and lay there in a warm sort of daze. He was vaguely aware of Nicholas getting up from the bed and heading over to Henry's vanity, sitting down in front of the mirror, but it took Henry a good five minutes to muster enough energy to sit up. When he finally managed to do so, he stared.
“Nicholas?” he asked, confused.
“Hmmm?” Nicholas hummed in reply. He was dabbing his face with a white cream that seemed to come out of a jar in front of him, rubbing it in with the tips of his (warm, graceful, almost dainty, yet terribly powerful-looking) fingers.
“...what are you doing?”
“Using my moisturizer,” he replied contentedly, as though this was an everyday sort of occurrence.
“...why?” Henry asked weakly.
“To keep my skin pretty,” Nicholas answered, and Henry was growing more and more disturbed. Was this normal behavior?
“O-oh. I see.” But Nicholas wasn't replying, and Henry fell silent as well, watching. Nicholas was smiling softly, and really looked as though he was enjoying this. He began humming, and Henry caught a bit of a, “duh duh duh da da duh da da duh,” though he wasn't sure what the tune was, but the whole situation was a bit soothing. The soft light of the lamp on the wall made Nicholas' face glow, soft and golden, and, as he reached into the black bag on the table and pulled out a strange, flat stick and began filing his nails on it, Henry thought he really was incredibly beautiful.
“What's that?” he asked.
“Emery board,” Nicholas smiled.
Henry wasn't completely sure what an emery board was, but the atmosphere was cozy, with a feeling of trust and comfort, and he didn't want to break it. He watched silently, marveling at the smooth, even motions of the slender hands. After finishing his nails, Nicholas pulled out a hairbrush, and Henry watched, entranced, as he brushed his hair until it shone, sparkling in the light, fluffy and airy and perfect. The moment was beautiful, almost painfully so, but Henry broke it anyways, because if this worked, the next moment would be even better.
“Bring that here,” he said softly, and Nicholas looked up in surprise, but he obediently stood and walked over to the bed, handing Henry the brush. Henry gestured for Nicholas to sit in front of him, and he did so, his back facing Henry. Henry reached forward and ran the brush through the impossibly black hair, and, immediately, Nicholas positively melted, slumping backwards until his back was resting against Henry's chest as a long, luxurious moan of pleasure escaped his lips. Henry grinned at the sound and continued, running the fingers of his free hand through Nicholas' hair as well.
Within a few minutes, Nicholas was a puddle of dopey, smiling goo, collapsing bonelessly onto his side of the bed with a serene, near-oblivious grin plastered across his face. Henry was surprised the man wasn't purring. He smiled, putting the brush down on his bedside table, and turned to pull Nicholas into a hug. The younger man let out a sleepy, contented sound and snuggled his head into Henry's chest as he drifted off to sleep.
Henry couldn't help but smile as he slowly stroked Nicholas' hair. The man certainly had some bizarre habits, but Henry definitely felt like he could get used to this.