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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 28, 2009 10:53:33 GMT -5
Ohhh, but they shouldn't...
With the slightest of thoughtful groans, Nicolas pulled George against him again, kissing him heavily and rather with a lot of satisfaction, sliding his hands under his shirt. In a brief pause, he whispered against his lips, "My, but you do take me back..."
As though George did not appear his elder. But then, Nicolas forgot most of the time how young he had been at his death, even though he had not really lived that many years beyond it, that he could recall, and had therefore not really matured or aged. But immortality was a strange thing. He hardly felt as though it mattered.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 28, 2009 11:10:45 GMT -5
"To what?" George asked dryly as he pulled back to open Nicolas' pants, shaking hair out of his face. "Puberty?"
Ah, but he was pleased Nicolas had given in. Why he'd pulled away at all George couldn't fathom. He was not so young as Nicolas, but he was certainly not unattractive. (George had no doubt on this matter; he still made the ladies on the street sigh and smile, and that was all he asked of any lady.) If anything, now he felt somewhat challenged, and bent his head to brush lips against a nipple.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 28, 2009 11:23:16 GMT -5
George wasn't in the least unattractive. That was at least half the trouble. Logically, as he exhaled sharply, fingers tangling in George's hair sharply, he knew that this was not a good idea, that under these circumstances the slightest nip from Nicki would probably turn into something very serious, possibly fatal.
"Since... a long time," he managed. "Ohhh, George..." He pulled him up again, hands hooked under his arms, and kissed a line down his jaw.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 28, 2009 11:49:18 GMT -5
George turned his head away to give Nicolas better access, legs sliding up to straddle the other's waist, hands pressed against the cushions to support his weight. But in shifting to do this and to keep Nicolas' mouth at the same time, one knee slid sharply off the side of the couch and George followed with a surprised grunt.
It would have been no issue if he hadn't knocked his head against the table as he fell. Even then, he hadn't hit hard; there hadn't been far to fall. George sat up and touched fingers to the side of his head, then looked with no real concern at the small amount of blood that came away with them. Just a cut, the sharp pain of the scrape already fading into mere tenderness. It was slightly embarrassing, though, and George looked back up at Nicolas with a shrug and something of a self-amused smile.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 28, 2009 14:09:26 GMT -5
Nicolas slipped onto his knees beside him on the floor in a moment. The concern on his face was real, not feigned to manipulate him... but so was the faintly misty expression in his eyes, the languor.
"Oh, George, what have you done? You've cut yourself."
He took George's hand in a moment, and with a nearly loving smile that bordered on a smirk, took his fingertips to his mouth and urged the blood off with his tongue.
This was teasing enough, and something any lover might do, just as smirkingly, but the near ecstasy Nicolas fought to keep from his features was, he knew, unusual, and he was nearly panicking despite the way he lazily moved his lips to George's temple.
"A kiss will make it better," he said, one hand moving to his waist again to pull him closer once more. And this might have been merely an invitation for them to pick up, gently at first, passionately later, where they left off but for the fact that he seemed to forget that when the blood touched his lips and he barely backed off and then his tongue tasted it -
Nicolas kissed George sharply, his own tongue tasting of blood. He felt George's pulse beneath his skin; in a moment he'd pinned George onto the floor and was pressing against him heatedly, mouth working hotly down to his throat.
Any moment now -
Nicolas blanched and scrambled off him in a moment, pushing himself back two feet on the floor and staring at George where he'd left him. His blood was dark against his temple, though not as dark as his hair, and bright, bright red where Nicki's mouth had smeared it.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 28, 2009 16:16:36 GMT -5
There was something about the way Nicolas looked at him that left George unsure of what to say. He was such a... a beautiful man, striking, pale skin and dark wild curls, and he looked at George so intently and he couldn't resist. He didn't move when Nicolas came to take his fingers in his mouth, mesmerized again, and to feel the other man's tongue against his skin was suddenly torturous. Even if the look on Nicolas' face was a little alarming, it didn't really seem to matter when in the next moment they were kissing hotly, and Nicolas was above him and George was only happy that he hadn't been distracted by the blood. George moaned softly, hands winding into Nicolas' hair as the man kissed his throat, and then-
A little dazed, he sat up to see Nicolas feet away and staring at him in some mix of intensity and horror. "What is it?" he asked, flushed, a little crossly, pushing a hand through his hair and smearing the blood even more. He wiped his hand on his pants. "What's wrong with you?" George's heart was racing, which he'd put down as desire, but the way Nicolas watched him was quickly becoming uncomfortable. The hairs on the back of George's neck rose.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 28, 2009 16:23:35 GMT -5
"George, I have - I need to go now."
It was almost painful to say this. He realized he had not been thinking of what he was when he was with George - it was more than possible this was one of the reasons he so sought his company. But he was well aware of it now. And he had been so close to doing him serious damage. Perhaps a little selfishly, Nicki's only thought was how horrible it would be for him if George were to die, if it were to be his own fault - but in any case, he wouldn't be able to bear it.
The intensity wasn't gone from his gaze, but, ironically, in realizing he was a horror he seemed younger and more mortal than ever, and possibly a little frightened.
"I'll be back later," he said, as he groped behind himself to feel the chair and pull himself up with it, unable to look into George's eyes, which was maddening. "But I can't - not now - "
Almost following the wall out, he headed swiftly for the door, only a great deal of willpower keeping him from vanishing out that window on the spot.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 28, 2009 20:09:11 GMT -5
Behind him, George leapt to his feet, his face a perfect picture of bewilderment. Sharply, "Nicolas- " Ah, but what was there to say? The man was gone in an instant.
He ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on the door in one smooth motion, pacing back across the room. There was no one to see him, but George struggled with his expression regardless. His heart was still pounding. What was it about the way Nicolas moved? Too smoothly, and like the room was too small for him.
George stood in front of the mirror above his sink and frowned at himself. After a while, he washed the blood away.
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