Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry

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.


Jun. 20th, 2007 12:16 am (UTC)
"I - it's. I do. I think. I guess." Seth sighed, and found that he was rocking back and forth just slightly, a habit of his from childhood. "It's like someone reaching into your gut and touching it. It's suprising, and it's a little scary, but somehow you want it. Although I've never wanted anyone to reach into my gut. Fuck the metaphor. Simile. Whatever."
Jun. 20th, 2007 12:19 am (UTC)
"Simile," Terence said, "I'm pretty sure," his mouth on autopilot as his hands were otherwise occupied. "Well look, le'ts just shut up and kiss and I'll do my best, I promise." He made good on his words, somewhat desperately.
Jun. 21st, 2007 08:29 pm (UTC)
Seth kissed back, feeling oddly abstracted, as though he was not involved in the proceedings. There seemed to be nothing he could do, and he made his best attempt at awkward passivity.
Jun. 21st, 2007 08:38 pm (UTC)
Terence, who had begun this exploration as a mission of mercy, began to find something quite erotic about what was hidden beneath Seth's shirts. Having progressed long ago beyond identity crises about finding arousal in the female-ish body, he proceeded not to think.
Jun. 22nd, 2007 06:53 pm (UTC)
Seth was likewise attempting not to think, something which had once taken him significant effort but was now a well developed reflex. It was strange, though, being with Terence, whose contact with others was based on mutual enjoyment rather than control with enjoyment as a possible byproduct, and he shivered the strange intensity of it.
Jun. 22nd, 2007 06:56 pm (UTC)
"Are you cold?" Terence asked, somewhat nonsensically, given that he was a warm sort of person and was at the time covering most of Seth's person anyway.
Jun. 22nd, 2007 07:05 pm (UTC)
"No," Seth replied indistinctly, "that just feels. . ." he frowned, a bit puzzled at himself. "Good?" he tried, wondering if it feel right to say.
Jun. 22nd, 2007 07:08 pm (UTC)
"I'm glad?" Terence asked, soothing with nimble fingers. "I hope it does?" and he continued to do so - "Why are we asking questions instead of sentences?"
Jun. 22nd, 2007 07:11 pm (UTC)
"Because," Seth gasped in a fumbly sort of way, "it's hard to ask sentences. Wait. That didn't make sense."
Jun. 22nd, 2007 07:15 pm (UTC)
Terence laughed into Seth's ear, more or less. "Yeah," he said. "Guess it is." He squirmed with something very like but not as unpleasant as discomfort.
Jun. 23rd, 2007 06:02 am (UTC)
"You okay?" Seth asked, admittedly rather breathlessly. "You're moving, and -" he surprised himself by taking the initiative and kissing Terence rather aggressively on the cheek. "I'd rather, um, you didn't stop."
Jun. 23rd, 2007 06:25 pm (UTC)
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I won't," Terence said, rather more than rather breathlessly, and carried on generally.


holmes, oscar, byron, nineteenth century
The Byronic Cravat

Latest Month

May 2007

Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by chasethestars