(Untitled)
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 ( Read more... )
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 ( Read more... )
Or maybe a few days earlier. Who knows. It's Millitime. Physics is fluid.
Villiers sits on the couch, watching the latest Doctor Who.
Because in the end, he's still a sci-fi fan.
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"Perhaps you should."
It's been a while since he's slept with a woman. Not that he's complaining, but he does miss it, a touch.
Very different from sleeping with a man, after all.
Then, a pause, to twirl Imriel around. Because he's happy and feeling silly.
"Would you like to hear the poem? It's by Keats, one of the finest poets the world has seen."
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"Oh, by all means."
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"Then, love," he says, guiding Imriel towards the comfy couch, "take a seat, and I shall serenade you with verse."
A charming little parting grin as he rummages through his bookshelf. Plenty of poets, there -- poetry was always his favourite form of literature, modern and classical.
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He snuggles in attentively. Villiers reading poetry? Awesome.
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By the time Villiers' voice fades off he's regained his composure, and simply raises his eyebrows.
"Thrall?"
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"Thrall."
Then, pulling Imriel close, a kiss.
"But, you're here. Which is a comfort, to say the least."
...actually, maybe he wouldn't sleep with her if he had the chance. Maybe angel's blood gives you some kind of advantage.
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Experience, on the other hand...
Imriel rubs his face and sighs.
"I thought," he murmurs wryly, "I'd done with that sort of thing back in Tiberium."
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"Including seductresses, and apparently, the fae."
Which is...interesting. But he's here, and not enslaved by some siren. Which is good.
"At least you got a good lay, and managed to escape, hm?"
Getting juuuuust a bit worried, now, as the message of the poem sinks in. It's been a while since he read it. He didn't quite know the full...potential La Belle Dame Sans Merci had.
Maybe he should educate Imriel in potentially dangerous people...
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Irritable frown.
"Name of Elua, can I once sleep with a woman who's neither being paid for it nor out to use me for something?"
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"Well, one more reason to sleep with men," he murmurs quietly. Even if women are soft and curved and gentle and beautiful in ways that men can never really be.
A kiss, and he settles his head against Imri's chest.
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Open your eyes, Villiers, and have a look at who you're cuddling with.
Yeah. Thought so.
Imriel grins wryly, says absolutely nothing about the little voice at the back of his mind whispering but surely there's nothing wrong with the lady, and ignores it in favour of kissing Villiers' temple. Because he can, that's why.
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Snuggle.
Then, a little sigh.
"As a general rule, Imri, avoid the fae. They love beautiful mortals, and enjoy enchanting them."
There was a time that he didn't believe in this stuff.
That was a time before Milliways.
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Soft kiss, tight hold, cuddlesnuggle, ♥.
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