Sep 6, 2014
hegesilaus
"You stink of the Underworld."
A loose wring of the wrist follows closely, as if she moves to expel some visible cl- oud from her nostrils.
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hegesilaus
"You stink of the Underworld."
A loose wring of the wrist follows closely, as if she moves to expel some visible cl- oud from her nostrils.
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Like, wow. Jeffrey still wasn't over it. He's cuddling with a god right now. He needs a minute. Or ten.
A god. Liking this scrawny little white boy with an eccentric personality and mild people issues.
Count your motherfuckin' blessings, Jeffrey Mackleheny.
They're on the couch. Er, well, Aidon's on the couch. Jeffrey's on Aidon. Also known as the other couch. Jeffrey snickers to himself at this. His hand wriggles its way under Aidon's shirt. Not even cold, or anything. He just liked the feeling of his skin on the other's. Their breathing synced up like some kind of sensual, rhythmic game. The TV was lighting the living room, helping out the moonlight that filtered through the windows. But -- that didn't matter. Whatever audio was being played out of those speakers was quiet enough for Aidon's breathing, and the thud of his heart to cover it up.
In situations like these, Jeffrey can't help but to adjust his position. He felt the need to constantly remind the other of his presence on top of them. He's shuffling upwards now, his hand fitting comfortably at the base of Aidon's neck as he leans in closer, lips pressing gently to his.
"It would have been a lot more romantic if you de-thorned the rose before you put it in your mouth…" -- from Miles to Clint
Miles was being way too picky. Also, he was focusing on a little detail that really, really didn't matter just now. There were plenty of other things to look at-- Clint's knee just barely exposed from under the bathwater, his chest slightly touched with soap-- that the comment had the archer glowering mutely as he bit down on the stem, trying to stubbornly insist upon the "romantic" setting he'd painstakingly set up for the telepath's arrival.
The look said, effectively, "Forget about the rose-- are you going to fucking join me or not?"
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+ hegesilaus
Well, this was unusual. Jarvis didn't recognize the man in front of him, and a quick search of his databases didn't really bring up anything useful. He observed the man carefully -- though he didn't realize it, what he was doing could be called staring.
"Can I help you?"
#aidon poking fun at steve is my new favorite thing
mine too :3
Sweet and soft, lazy mornings were the best kind, when he'd deigned to share a bed rather than rest on the couch. Golden rays shone through barely parted drapes, Charon's bare form was only partially covered by smooth sheets (Hades had good taste.) and when he woke more fully, he found himself alone. Rising, and not bothering to cover himself, he made to find out where Aidon had gotten to, so early.
Honestly, being the second one awake is weird.