06-11-2022, 04:01 PM
At this rate, Malachi was fairly certain that he’d had his clothes taken off more often than he’d ever worn them, around Arthur. A good priest might have – should have – an issue with that, along with every other thing he’d done since… well, since before even meeting him at the bar. If he had been a good priest to begin with, he wouldn’t have attended a masquerade in a brothel.
He wouldn’t have given his heart for it to be broken enough to make him. But, he considered as he assisted in lifting his hips and pulling his legs out of discarded shoes and pants, he also wouldn’t have met Arthur at all.
Probably would have been a better thing for everyone else. For the church, certainly. For poor Nettie’s peace of mind.
As soon as Arthur had returned to sit, Malachi maneuvered his legs to capture him between them again, resting comfortably over his thighs.
“Mm?” he hummed, lifting his head just enough to follow Arthur’s critical gaze. He got all of that from a measly scar, did he?
A small smile formed on his face. It felt odd to have Arthur inspecting the mostly-healed wound, scrutinizing the man that had stitched it on the basis of… stitch pattern? Uneven healing? Malachi kicked himself for being so obvious when mentioning the detective, yet a part of him enjoyed the way that Arthur took him apart.
“Ah!”
Definitely should have been expecting him to bite, in hindsight. Malachi squirmed underneath him, back arching away from the cushions, but he was careful not to pull his leg away from Arthur’s grasp. Sensitive – it should have been less sensitive for scarring over, but it was not. The priest’s face was dusted red by the time Arthur was satisfied with the altered mark.
“I- yes,” decided Malachi, who was mostly caught by the way he’d said my darling more than anything else, and who had, thusly, also decided that words were frustrating and stupid and too hard to get out.
He caught the back of Arthur’s neck and pulled him down. Ringed his legs around his waist the way he’d wanted to, before, and cupped his face between his hands to just – stare at him, eyes dark and unrevealing, save for the same strange gleam from the bar.
“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, before pulling him into a kiss.
He wouldn’t have given his heart for it to be broken enough to make him. But, he considered as he assisted in lifting his hips and pulling his legs out of discarded shoes and pants, he also wouldn’t have met Arthur at all.
Probably would have been a better thing for everyone else. For the church, certainly. For poor Nettie’s peace of mind.
As soon as Arthur had returned to sit, Malachi maneuvered his legs to capture him between them again, resting comfortably over his thighs.
“Mm?” he hummed, lifting his head just enough to follow Arthur’s critical gaze. He got all of that from a measly scar, did he?
A small smile formed on his face. It felt odd to have Arthur inspecting the mostly-healed wound, scrutinizing the man that had stitched it on the basis of… stitch pattern? Uneven healing? Malachi kicked himself for being so obvious when mentioning the detective, yet a part of him enjoyed the way that Arthur took him apart.
“Ah!”
Definitely should have been expecting him to bite, in hindsight. Malachi squirmed underneath him, back arching away from the cushions, but he was careful not to pull his leg away from Arthur’s grasp. Sensitive – it should have been less sensitive for scarring over, but it was not. The priest’s face was dusted red by the time Arthur was satisfied with the altered mark.
“I- yes,” decided Malachi, who was mostly caught by the way he’d said my darling more than anything else, and who had, thusly, also decided that words were frustrating and stupid and too hard to get out.
He caught the back of Arthur’s neck and pulled him down. Ringed his legs around his waist the way he’d wanted to, before, and cupped his face between his hands to just – stare at him, eyes dark and unrevealing, save for the same strange gleam from the bar.
“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, before pulling him into a kiss.
