ambroseravenâ:
âI quite like you too, AlexandreâŚâ Ambroseâs eyes went back to Alexandreâs face, passing through his hair, eyes, nose, lips. It all seemed to move him, set his body and mind in motion. More frequently than anticipated, Ambrose found himself lost in observation, trying to read between the quite explicit lines. Alexandre was different. In a way that Ambrose couldnât explain. âIt sounds⌠dangerous. To worship a lover as if heâs an amalgamation of the gods. Donât suppose deities would be happy about that. Itâs too much power.â
Or maybe that was just the right amount. To be so invested, entwined, with someone else, that it did feel like worshipping them. It was intense enough to make him curious. To let himself wonder how Alexandre would taste, feel like. Instead of the other man, though, it was the cup of tea who found his lips, the last sip of the hot drink washing over his imagination. âSounds like an interesting approach,â Ambrose let a quiet laugh scape his lips, âAsking what people consider better than fucking, that is. Quite the perfect topic to discuss over tea, donât you think?â
And that was probably why Ambrose was so involved in Alexandre. They were, in every way that mattered, sharing their thoughts on how fucking should and would be eternally on the top of their lists. And all that over tea. A scene that Ambrose couldâve hardly imagined before. âYou see?â, Ambrose raised a brow, the last drag of his cigarette finding its way into his lungs as he rested the filter on the ashtray at the table. âMy place is just around the corner. I suppose itâs closer than yours, right?â
âI am glad to hear that we are on the same page when concerning one another.â He gave a smile, though he wasnât entirely sure if that was the right way to phrase that. Hopefully, Ambrose understood what Alexandre was trying to say no matter what. He could feel Ambroseâs eyes running over his features and that boosted Alexandreâs ego more than it likely shouldâve; he knew that he already had a big ego, but when a man as handsome as Ambrose treated him as handsome as Alexandre knew that he was, that ego only grew. âSometimes, the most dangerous things are most worth the risk. I do not mind upsetting the deities if it means I get to worship a lover as much as I enjoy to.â
The sound of his laugh made Alexandre smile. âWell, it is how our discussion over tea is going. And it is the interesting approach that I made towards you, and it seems to be working out for me, non?â he questioned, resting one of his elbows on top of the table and placing his chin on top of his knuckles. He couldnât wait to get him undressed, to learn what he was into, to hear how he sounded like in the throes of complete bliss and pleasure.
âI suppose so,â he agreed, doing the same with his own cigarette filter, blowing out the last breath of smoke in order to focus on imagining what the feeling of Ambroseâs breath filling his lungs would feel like. âIf yours is as close as you say it is, yes. Mine is in Nolita, so... not too far, but much further than âjust around the cornerâ, as you say.â Standing up, he offered a hand down to Ambrose to help him up, sliding his other hand into his pocket. âTell me, Ambrose, my dearest... what... can a man do... to drive you insane...â Alexandre used the most seductive tone he could manage, giving him a little smile as he looked over at him. There was no sense in beating around the bush; Alexandre liked to please his partners, and, sometimes, what it took to get that was to ask directly and candidly. He wasnât ashamed of that.Â

















