||Twenty Eight||-›Lovers' Kiss(Divine)

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QOTD; How annoying is my update schedule? (Be honest, I take criticism gracefully)

NB: You do not have to, but I'd recommend you read the three previous chapters before this one, for recalling purposes ♥

❝Kiss his mouth, and toss his curly hair.❞

•Oscar Wilde.

How does it feel to love him? Is it euphoria submerged in dread? Or is it your pneumaaching? Your tongue dipping blood

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How does it feel to love him? Is it euphoria submerged in dread? Or is it your pneuma
aching? Your tongue dipping blood...

{PLAY MUSIC♪}


Recreation Roomꨄ

There was something about the rare sight, or in Julius' case, the never before seen sight he was beholding. Reuben in the moment that they were in, with his figure illuminated by the candelabrum on the mantelpiece, and with Its light haloed over his head, was something of a celestial being—he looked of one in utter desire, wanting. It made Julius' heart lurch in his chest. If Dionysus and Apollo weren't each other's almost opposite, and had had a passionate affair, which brought forth an offspring; because for gods not much wasn't a possibility, their son would have been Reuben. Sublime would he be as he laid on a triclinium, delivering justice and making prophecies as a helot stood at his side, hovering grapes over his pink lips. Julius would gladly kneel at Reuben's feet then, doing everything to please his god.

Reuben stepped forward, clutching at Julius’s hips, fingers flexing against his trouser. “My,” he heaved, “I cannot believe this is you and I,” Reuben murmured, voice wavering as he lacked credence. He gently pressed his face against Julius's shoulder, the quick beating of his heart never slowing, overcame as he closed his eyes tight, not wanting his watery eyes slip out any more tears and cause any further humiliation.

Looking down at the dark crown of curls, and feeling Reuben's breath against him, Julius whole being sighed in sheer contentment. Heaven save him! For he was closer to having the discussion of his sudden demise be a reality.

He couldn't resist gently threading his trembling fingers through Reuben's thick tresses. “Young master,” he sighed.

“Refer to me as young master once more, and I might have no other choice but to push you out of the window,” Reuben weakly retorted, consequently earning him a breathy laughter from Julius.

“My apologies then, dearest R–Reuben,” corrected Julius with a smile, cautious. “But I am afraid we must retire to the ballroom, though I dread even the mere thought.” Julius wished to all but devour the man before him, to kiss every inch of his handsome face and mouth ravenously till it was puffing, slack and red—however, the music playing at the ballroom beneath them all but tortured his careless thoughts into sensibility, and he was sagacious enough to pay heed to sensibility.

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