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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

kissingmyelbow
May. 23rd, 2007 03:17 am (UTC)
Pasha squirmed happily, feeling rather comfortable and rather pleased. He tilted his head up, away from Sev's kisses. "I could," he agreed, eyes bright and mischievous. "But I think you're going to have to try harder than that."
mouette_mots
May. 23rd, 2007 05:17 am (UTC)
Sev raised his eyebrows and looked past Pasha at the Saint. "Harder?" he mused. Experimentally, he slid his hand up Pasha's leg. "That sounds like work, Süßchen," he told the Saint, and shifted to kneel over Pasha's legs, incidentally brushing his hand against Pasha's cock through the fabric of his pants. Sev smiled and reached for the Saint with his other hand. He pulled him close and kissed him, his hand moving gently in Pasha's lap. "Anyway, I'm trying pretty hard already," he murmured in both their ears when they separated, giving Pasha's cock a gentle squeeze for emphasis.
simplysidhe
May. 23rd, 2007 05:35 am (UTC)
"I am tempted to leave you for that pun," the Saint confessed, "but mmm. That's nice." He lay back, over Pasha's lap, smiling broadly, and wrapped slim arms around the Russian's waist.
kissingmyelbow
May. 23rd, 2007 10:50 pm (UTC)
((Hah, it's sort of disorienting, seeing the Saint as Süßchen as opposed to Pasha.))

Pasha groaned and pressed his hips up against Sev's hand, only then realizing that there was a Saint in his lap. He tangled his fingers in the Saint's hair and looked over at Sev pleadingly, bucking his hips very pointedly against his hand.
mouette_mots
May. 24th, 2007 04:39 am (UTC)
((Heh. But he does call everybody that, or everybody who qualifies. We're not certain, yet, if Julian qualifies.))

Sev laughed and leaned forward to kiss Pasha, suddenly demanding and forceful. "You want something, Süßchen?" he asked, teasing him, and stroked his cock harder through the cloth. Sev looked down at the reclining Saint, running a hand down the boy's bare chest to hook his fingers in the waist of his pants and tug meaningfully. "The Saint here says he's very good at giving people what they want," he told Pasha, and leaned forward again to lick at his neck, biting down gently at the skin for a moment. "So what do you want?" he murmured.

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holmes, oscar, byron, nineteenth century
byronic_cravat
The Byronic Cravat

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