Well. I say I slept in their bed. That is precisely what I mean: I think it might be my own bed, now. It turns out I sleep on the left side, and am in fact capable of being both the large and the little spoon.
I've never shared a bed for sleeping, beyond the infrequencies of passing out in yours or theirs. It's novel.
Exciting.
[...]
They do bring talents to the table, by the bye. And if I have no talent to afford them in return, I believe well and truly I've atoned with earnest effort.
They are fucking ethereal unclothed. A work of art.
Ungentlemanly of me to speak of intimacies, but I will draw the line here and not comment further on their endowments for the sake of their privacy. For the sake of their self, and sanctity, and sacredness.
But.
Lucky Sen, indeed.
[...]
All right. TMI. But I must tell someone or I'll start shouting it to the rafters; I would tell Rin, themself, but they're busy.
And I did tell them. At length. In eight languages. Do you know what it's like to hear someone shout their pleasure in eight different languages?
No one lets me talk mid-coitus. You didn't let me talk.
Christ, I think we spoke as much as we went about the business of it, Rin and I.
[...]
Darius, they have the most unparalleled ankles. Consummately flawless.
And I love them. I love every inch of them, with every thought I possess - so many more than ever may reach speaking, so there you have a measure of my adoration for Rin!
Fucking hell, they looked this way, and the light caught just so on their smile. I love them with every piece of my wretched heart.
I'll die happy, Darius. I swear it.
[...]
You're a menace at Waverly's wedding. I doubt we'll have a flower girl that you can besmirch.
I want you there. They'll want you there, no matter this mysterious animosity you two are propagating. They may not like you just now, but we both love you. You know that.
Cunt.
[...]
Assuming there is a marriage. I haven't asked yet. It has to be romantically grand or grandly romantic or, at the outset, memorable. The proposal.
Or I'll race up to them and start begging. Begging is equally acceptable, I feel, when the one you want to wed is possessed of such incomparable transcendence, and you yourself are a bona fide piece of shit, a dick, and a stubborn asshole.
(The things you say to an ailing man. You're going to hell.)
1/2
I've never shared a bed for sleeping, beyond the infrequencies of passing out in yours or theirs. It's novel.
Exciting.
[...]
They do bring talents to the table, by the bye. And if I have no talent to afford them in return, I believe well and truly I've atoned with earnest effort.
They are fucking ethereal unclothed. A work of art.
Ungentlemanly of me to speak of intimacies, but I will draw the line here and not comment further on their endowments for the sake of their privacy. For the sake of their self, and sanctity, and sacredness.
But.
Lucky Sen, indeed.
[...]
All right. TMI. But I must tell someone or I'll start shouting it to the rafters; I would tell Rin, themself, but they're busy.
And I did tell them. At length. In eight languages.
Do you know what it's like to hear someone shout their pleasure in eight different languages?
No one lets me talk mid-coitus. You didn't let me talk.
Christ, I think we spoke as much as we went about the business of it, Rin and I.
[...]
Darius, they have the most unparalleled ankles. Consummately flawless.
And I love them. I love every inch of them, with every thought I possess - so many more than ever may reach speaking, so there you have a measure of my adoration for Rin!
Fucking hell, they looked this way, and the light caught just so on their smile. I love them with every piece of my wretched heart.
I'll die happy, Darius. I swear it.[...]
You're a menace at Waverly's wedding. I doubt we'll have a flower girl that you can besmirch.
I want you there. They'll want you there, no matter this mysterious animosity you two are propagating. They may not like you just now, but we both love you. You know that.
Cunt.
[...]
Assuming there is a marriage. I haven't asked yet. It has to be romantically grand or grandly romantic or, at the outset, memorable. The proposal.
Or I'll race up to them and start begging. Begging is equally acceptable, I feel, when the one you want to wed is possessed of such incomparable transcendence, and you yourself are a bona fide piece of shit, a dick, and a stubborn asshole.
(The things you say to an ailing man. You're going to hell.)