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Give me your rentboys, your whores, your not quite monogamous masses yearning to. Well. You know.

Location: A room. Of some sort.
Time: Not important, but probably late afternoon to early evening.

Seth Cuthbert, a small, slight boy with short Holocaust survivor hair stepped into the room. He stared at each of the gray walls, then sat down on a couch that seemed to be one of the main decorative features. After a moment, he was confronted by the entrance of another boy, an equally small, pretty sort of a boy in a top hat and a cravat. They were men's clothes, although the boy looked hardly older than sixteen. Seth blinked. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," said the pretty boy. "I'm the Saint. Who are you?"

"I'm Seth Cuthbert," said Seth, slightly puzzled. "You're a saint?"

"No. The Saint. It is different," the Saint informed him laboriously, and sat down next to him on the couch, a good deal closer than Seth would have liked. "And now," he added. "We wait."

"We wait for what?" asked Seth somewhat nervously. There was something fundamentally indecent about the Saint.

The Saint shrugged. "For the people to come. I expect they will. I," he added, with a flourish of one hand, "am a magnet. For people. Pretty people especially."

"I think you give yourself too much credit," said Seth

"You're here, aren't you?" pointed out the Saint.

Seth looked blank, then settled down to pout for a bit.

The Saint waited patiently, toying a bit with his top hat brim.

Comments

(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 15th, 2007 05:54 am (UTC)
"Doesn't bother me either," the Saint replied, and kissed Sev again, hungrily, his hips pressing insistently forward.
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 15th, 2007 07:20 am (UTC)
The Saint looked at Sev, tasting the blood on his lip. "You're very insistent," he said, sounding every inch the Etonian. "I haven't been bitten in a long time." The formality of his demeanor dropped as he giggled. "Do it again," he murmured into Sev's cheek.
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 15th, 2007 07:48 am (UTC)
The Saint moaned happily, his eyes closed. "A long time? I think maybe I'm so not-dead because I think time is stupid...mind you, it thinks the same of me. So I probably mean weeks, but they'd be like years, to you." He toyed experimentally with the edge of his cravat. "Um, not to be a bother, but do you know how to undo this? Because it's getting tight."
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 15th, 2007 08:14 am (UTC)
"I -" the Saint looked at it, puzzled. "I have no idea. Linen, probably, but I always forget. Thanks anyway." Predictably enough for the Saint, his shirt was not buttoned properly, and was beginning to fall open at the collar. "Damn. 'Scus me." Reflexively, he reached for it, then looked up, amused, at Sev. "Unless, of course, you'd rather..."
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 16th, 2007 04:06 am (UTC)
"So they tell me. Ohhhh. Mmm. Anyway, that's why -- ah! -- I dress like this," The Saint purred happily. "Or partly why...mmm...anyway, it makes this sort of thing so much more..." The boy laced his fingers into Sev's hair, pulling him closer in. "Prolonged."
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 16th, 2007 04:46 am (UTC)
"As long as you like," the Saint said breathlessly, his shirt slipping off of one shoulder. He took Sev's chin in one hand and looked down at him, smiling in a way that could almost be unsettling. "Am I going to be the only one to be stripped around here?"
(Deleted comment)
simplysidhe
May. 16th, 2007 05:10 am (UTC)
"I'm only wondering," the Saint answered idly, sliding his fingers under the the hem of Sev's shirt. "Wondering, considering, and thinking. Taking in data with all eight senses." He shrugged, and his own shirt came perilously close to being removed all together.
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holmes, oscar, byron, nineteenth century
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The Byronic Cravat

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