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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.


May. 22nd, 2007 05:21 am (UTC)
The Saint brought his face close to Pasha's. "I said. I don't think." He gave the young man a peck on the lips. "I feel."
May. 22nd, 2007 08:26 pm (UTC)
"Mmgph," Pasha objected, pawing limply at the Saint. "Come back here," he said, an interesting mix of command and plea in his words.
(Deleted comment)
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."
(Deleted comment)
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.
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.


holmes, oscar, byron, nineteenth century
The Byronic Cravat

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