(Untitled)

[mrmoneypenny]

Reading, on the couch, is one of Villiers' favourite activities.

Even more so, now, that he has the perfect cuddlepartner when doing so.

"Ode 22," he reads. And smiles.

A kiss, to the top of Imriel's head. "Quite befitting of you, I must say."

And he reads:

"Integer vitae scelerisque purus

Comments

[broodingbacchus]

Aww.

If it weren't for the fact that he refuses to be noisy while listening to poetry, Imriel would be purring right about now.

Pity he's forgotten most of the good D'Angeline poetry, or he could return the favour. Something of Anafiel Delaunay's, perhaps. O dear my lord... he grins silently and presses a kiss to Villiers' collarbone, tucking his head under the older man's chin.

[broodingbacchus]

"I can think of a few things," he purrs.

At least one of them appears to involve an elegant long-fingered hand sliding down into Villiers' pants.

[mrmoneypenny]

And it's with that, that Villiers hums delightedly. All while his hands run up and down Imriel's back, leaning forward for another quick kiss, a peck on the nose, cheek.

[broodingbacchus]

His fingers curl, and he nuzzles Villiers' cheek, murmurind wordless nonsense into warm skin.

[mrmoneypenny]

He, too, murmurs, but not quite so wordless and just as affectionate.

"You, my dear, are a delight," he praises, even as his eyes close.

[broodingbacchus]

"I know."

He smirks, caressing gently, teasingly.

[mrmoneypenny]

Hands tighten as they settle around Imriel's waist, and he blindly nuzzles the join of neck and shoulder.

[broodingbacchus]

Faster now, and his other hand is making a calculated application of fingernails to Villiers' side.

Mmm.

[mrmoneypenny]

A little gasp, a little shudder of a breath.

Mmm.

And dammit, isn't it supposed to be the other way around? It's Imriel that's a teenager, not Villiers.

[broodingbacchus]

Imriel has... advantages.

Which he is utterly ruthless about exploiting.

Like so.

And-- so.

That, too.

Mmmm.

[mrmoneypenny]

Oh, that's just plain unfair.

But Villiers likes it that way.

And he's also almost playfully coy as he nips Imriel's neck. "Quick and messy, or slow and languid?" he asks.

Innocently.

[broodingbacchus]

"You can try for slow and languid, if you like," murmurs Imriel in his best silk-and-steel Kusheline voice.

The tone of the words, in concert with the motion of his hand, makes it abundantly clear that quick and messy is how it's going to be either way.

[mrmoneypenny]

Oh, how Villiers loves that voice.

So he doesn't even bother trying. Not at this point, melting under the weight of the younger man, his warm hands. Little movements as his eyes close again, and he whimpers.

[broodingbacchus]

Perfect.

Faster, faster, faster, loving every moment of beautiful surrender.

Every whimper.

Every gasp.

Treasures, all of them.

[mrmoneypenny]

Yes, that's-

Very, oh god, yes, just like that-

A sharp intake of breath, nails that drag not too heavy, but not too light, and-

...that was nice.

[broodingbacchus]

Indeed it was.

With his near-supernaturally impeccable sense of what Villiers wants, Imriel brings up his soiled hand and offers it smirkingly to his lover's sweet mouth.