Many of the guests are still awake. You can hear the laughter in the gardens yet. Davydd and Sandrine are probably still out there. The woman must have looked at every single plant. No match for her Powis Gardens, the gardens of Chinon, but the plants are vastly different. Hard to grow pomegranates and figs in Wales...
     The house was likewise full, the downstairs hall became the second gathering place. Staff and vintners and guests alike converged. There was finally a moment, sometime around one in the morning, when he could find you and suggest to you that you should both slip away for a few minutes...
     You knew what that meant...
     It was thirty minutes ago now, that he pulled you into the private sitting room of the master suites and had you all to himself. A had all of you.
     A fire burns lowly in St. Jeanne's hearth, and the weight of William's hand lands upon his spouse's hip. He is a tangle of half-attire, portions of clothing removed only for necessity's sake. The rest is as it was in the garden half an hour ago.

     "I don't know how you get me to do these things," Ian grins, he moved by less by the immediacy of now than the immediacy of later. He'll have to put the same clothing on again, so it was better to remove it all now, instead of seeing them ruined. "We do have guests," Ian smirks. "But then again, that's probably encouragement to run off..."
     "It is a good crowd," Ian observes. "And Valmiki. Who would have thought it?"

     Laughter sounds quietly behind you. "I ask," William murmurs, a kiss at your neck. "And you say Yes. Can I help that?" He probably can't help it. Look at him. No one's going to blame either of you. "A few minutes, what did it hurt, hmm?" Well, don't answer that. That might be a loaded question.
     "It is a good crowd, some familie, some old friends, and a wandering poet. They all appear to be having a good time. Davydd will be getting drunk." William himself is inebriated, not horribly so but enough. But the pomegranate liqueur. You may have to ration him on that. It has a similar effect as the Flagrante.
     "I do not know what it is about the poet, maybe it is his sincerity, but I find I like him. I am glad for that surprise...."

     "I should stop saying yes," Ian grumps, then grins. "It would be a first."
     "Satisfied now?" Ian teases, glancing behind himself.

     William chuckles, "A first? I do not think so. What about that time you made me wait a month. No, no, no... that was all I heard. And then there is the famous: William... I do not think we should have sex ever again. You do it to drive me crazy. It works every time, earl..."
     With an exhale, he rolls over to lie upon his back. William turns his head, dark blue-violet eyes resting the whole of their attention on you, like the grasp of a hand, his hand... like you felt on your hips earlier. His mouth makes much of the slight smile that claims it. "For now, mais oui... now, all of the pleasures have been had, yes? Fresh fruit, great wine, good drinks, wonderful food, quick sex by the fire and pleasant conversation." His words trail off into another grin.

     "That's all?" Ian rolls onto his back, falling the same direction. "Well, there is one thing missing in that list," he grins. "But, maybe we should think of that for another time." Ian sits up on his elbows and looks around.
     "What do you think of Sidhe?" Ian asks. Strange question. Grey eyes look over, blonde-white hair long around his shoulders. "I was surprised she would take a weekend. I cannot remmeber the last time she was on holiday. She must have a good year-end to report..." Ian smirks.

     "It is not the definitive list," he softly counters. An arm extends and with a tilt of his head he motions you to come closer. "Hmmm... Sidhe seems charming enough. Formidable. Another fine example of the women of Scotland. She's quite bright, but then...she'd have to be. Why do you ask, amours?"
     He chuckles about the status reports. "You will have them lined up. Do you want a report from me and from Davydd as well?" A grin. "He and Sandrine make a good couple," he notes in a soft aside. "She seems a dear woman for a dear man..."

     "You've gone all soft," Ian murmurs, turning to face the other direction now, in order to see better. His hand slides through his hair as he comes to rest on his side, elbow propping him up. "Evaluating who is with whom? I didn't know you were so interested," Ian grins.
     "However, I'd rather hear about us," Ian smiles. "You may now tell me that I am the most perfect man in all the world."

     The grin is smooth and wide. "That is true," William murmurs, "I have gone soft." He chuckles, turning his head to look at you. A turn that is soon followed by the rest of him. A lift and he is propped up the same as you, eye to eye. His other hand rests upon your side and with that he braces himself through another kiss. "The world and I work to deserve you," he smiles at your mouth. "I don't know of another man more amazing." A pause, a wink. "Not even myself," a self-directed bit of humor, egoist that he is. "And I lied about being satisfied," he whispers, "I'm not. Your perfection prevents it." Another smile forms at your mouth and he rolls against you in a widening kiss, lowering you both to the floor again.
     "I am imperfect," William murmurs, kiss paused as you are on your back and he is hovering over you again. "But perfect in my imperfections," he chuckles softly. "That's enough of that," he murmurs. "It has been a great year for us, laird, and I have enjoyed having you here in Chinon, spending the time as we have, just in what we enjoy and in one another."
     William grins again, that smile that beautifies. "Which is what I enjoy."

Posted by rowan at November 03, 2003 12:35 PM