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ctd from here...
Cesare disentangles himself from Isabel, steps over to the wrought iron railing. He leans over the edge, forcing himself to droop a bit, arms dangling while he presses halfmoon fingernails into his palms. Then he turns to her, eyes narrowed, and decides to plunge ahead - it's not as if she doesn't know or, at the very least, suspect what's on his mind.
"Daydreaming. Perhaps." He makes a little come, come here gesture, the prelude to a secret that is none, the overture to a wish she knows he harbours. It's all a matter of how to phrase it. Of how to please her while he's pleasing himself.
Once she's close, he leans over to whisper hot against the shell of her ear. "He would do well between us, I believe." His voice is hoarse and drops half an octave. "Perhaps he would taste sweet to you, too, once his legs are on my shoulders."
Cesare disentangles himself from Isabel, steps over to the wrought iron railing. He leans over the edge, forcing himself to droop a bit, arms dangling while he presses halfmoon fingernails into his palms. Then he turns to her, eyes narrowed, and decides to plunge ahead - it's not as if she doesn't know or, at the very least, suspect what's on his mind.
"Daydreaming. Perhaps." He makes a little come, come here gesture, the prelude to a secret that is none, the overture to a wish she knows he harbours. It's all a matter of how to phrase it. Of how to please her while he's pleasing himself.
Once she's close, he leans over to whisper hot against the shell of her ear. "He would do well between us, I believe." His voice is hoarse and drops half an octave. "Perhaps he would taste sweet to you, too, once his legs are on my shoulders."