[ It's all still a little recent, a little oddly real as far as a memory goes, for Petrana's words not to be a little piercing. The gesture of her hand in his does much to make up for it, as does the intent of her words. He remembers her bloodied knuckle, his paltry attempt to soothe it.
So it's really only a twinge. Marcus can brace against it, before it moves on. ]
It felt wrong to be alone, [ he says, quiet enough that his voice is almost all texture.
And it has felt wrong to be alone in the waking world as well. There has always been some form of companionship, even if not the romantic kind. Circle-mates, soldiers, Sima's gentle breathing where she lay on the other side of a dark room. Whatever aloneness (different, you see, from loneliness) he'd experienced in the Gallows had come about tenfold in the darker of the two dreams.
Marcus looks to Julius, then, and says, ] I don't think it fair to expect it of us, to be exactly as we were in our dream. Those men grew towards something together. I think we shouldn't miss all of that.
[He supposes if it was of course it wouldn't have needed saying, though, so he adds:]
I don't expect ... It isn't as if we're trying to work backward to get to that exact spot again. I don't think we could. For one thing, that was still two of us and not three. We came to it a different way. But even beyond that, I wouldn't want to presume a familiarity before I'd earned it.
[Julius hadn't even presumed friendliness until Petrana had given him a nudge, and it likely says more about Julius than it does about Marcus under the circumstances. He gives her hand one more squeeze before releasing it so he can also sit, finally, on the edge of the made bed. It occurs to him that he may have backtracked too far, so he adds, softer:]
[ That feels incorrect, that Julius should have to earn something in this particular configuration of people. The flicker in Marcus' expression seems to imply something of the other man's response, like his meaning hasn't been conveyed exactly as intended, but it seems a lot to unpack and so instead he says— ]
( in spite of herself and the morning that they've had (the morning after the night before), petrana laughed, quick and melodic. )
Some, yes, ( is a little sly, her hand falling to julius's knee as he's seen fit to sit himself beside her.
she considers the pair of them. vysvolod, dozing on the far end of the bed, evinces no interest in proceedings whatsoever. )
Then, if I may be so bold: how much shall we consider appropriate to begin? ( it is half proposition, half a fairly clear effort to contain the impulse to suggest immediately that they have this quite large room with two beds pushed together, he might well simply move all his things today- )
I wish to be quite familiar, ( compromises neatly on both points. )
Some. [He echoes them both with a small smile. Julius smiles so often that it would be easy to think it came naturally to him, but the one he uses now, privately, has a different quality. Less practiced. A little warmer.]
I would like very much if you stayed awhile, assuming your plans for the day allow. Even if it's just to have your company. [He glances at Petrana, then back to Marcus.] It was an odd night and I expect we'll all of us be required elsewhere soon enough, but I think at a minimum we could take an hour or two.
[It's not not a proposition, for all he feels it is only fair Marcus set their pace. If Julius is a bit more cautious than Petrana, the invitation is still warmly meant, for however Marcus might want to spend that hour or two.]
The urge to maintain delicate handling is there, the same urge that prevents him from stating without prompting the things he would also like. There is the question of what he deserves up against what they are willing to give, and it all still feels off-kilter. He is off-kilter. He thinks of the case of cigarettes in his pocket but doesn't go for one.
After a beat of observing them both, Marcus reaches down to undo the buckles and laces at his boot. ]
It was an odd night, [ he echoes, as he does this. ] There'll be questions, and talk of what the answers ought to be, who should say them, how they should be said.
[ The boots are nudged aside, and he stands, hands going to the edges of his frockcoat. ]
Solutions may come eventually, but not before more problems are made. [ The coat is left over the back of his chair, and he turns away from them both, moving for the door. There's a key in the lock that he doesn't recall Julius turning, so he turns it, the tiny mechanisms within tumbling heavily into place. ]
I would like very much to avoid it all for an hour or two.
( today is likely to be strange for everyone; it's entirely possible that a morning's absence will be far from noteworthy, amongst the rest. she considers his coat, mentally preparing future arguments as to the benefits of not dressing in robes—e.g. that what marcus just did was quite attractive, and wouldn't julius like to be able to be half so dramatic as the two of them—and when she straightens from the bed it's to step out of the lightweight indoor slippers she's wearing and,
prudently,
to encourage vysvolod off the end of the bed. it is, as noted, not one bed originally but two, tightly pressed together and made up as one with far more space than they've ever really needed—at least, until this morning.
she touches julius's arm, lightly, and then frames his face with her fingertips: ) Isn't this much more productive than we were? ( wryly. )
[He laughs, warm and quiet, and takes the opportunity to kiss her before he removes his own shoes. To Marcus, he says,] We were at real risk of tying ourselves in knots discussing the situation without you. This is a marked improvement.
[He has every confidence that the two of them would have managed without Marcus, if he'd said he preferred not to try it. It would hurt, but they'd have survived it. That said, he finds himself sharply glad they don't have to as he watches Marcus across the distance between the now-locked door and the bed.]
Won't you come join us?
[While the tone is light, the look that accompanies it is sharply attentive.]
[ The pin holding his necktie is removed, the clean white fabric undone, unwound, tossed onto whatever surface is passed by as he approaches. Talk of knots and their tangling properties almost bids a smile out of him, you know, as a person with a particular strategy when it comes to such quandaries.
This is all new, even down to the notion of having two other human bodies to consider, let alone all they have signified to him in the past year, in the past twelve hours. ]
To discuss the situation? [ is his reply to Julius, and he resists the urge to look at Petrana as he moves in close to where the other man is seated on the edge of the bed, giving him no time at all before his hands come up to gently take his face, to lean down to kiss him, as if finishing the up until this moment broken circle of intimacy—
—if more thoroughly than the tender exchanges prior. ]
( it is different to what she saw in the dream, and not only because it is more thorough. intimately close, as well, and a thing that she finds herself not outside of except for the complexities of trying to fit together three people instead of two. there is an impulse that she's had for some time and in this moment it seems appropriate to follow it—
another knot. the one holding neatly back his hair, it comes free with her nimble fingers, and all so absent-minded she ties it loose around her own wrist before threading her fingers into now-freed hair.
her own is pinned up, neat, off her neck. her dress is simple, but more by her standards than anyone else's, and she's made no start on undressing herself beyond her shoes. when they do part, she considers the tableau, which is not unpleasant, and the prospect of what's to follow it. )
I can think of several ways, ( eventually, ) that we might pass these hours.
( logistically speaking. granted, there was never a third party in her marriagebed—nevertheless, it's extremely likely that petrana's sexual history is the most creatively adventurous of the three of them. she has some ideas. )
Perhaps we ought to establish where we are most comfortable beginning. I know that Julius has been with men—
( there is an implied question, and yes, this still counts as frank discourse where she's concerned. )
[Marcus kissing him is arresting in reality in way that it wasn't in the dream, whether because it was a dream or simply because it wasn't a novel experience for his dream-self. This is something entirely new. Julius leans into it, in no hurry to cut the moment short.
When they finally do part, Marcus's hands still framing Julius's face, it takes him a moment to fully register Petrana's comment. When he gets there, the comment draws a bit of warmth to his smile for its sensible practicality. He could confirm, elaborate ... but instead he waits, the hand that went to Marcus's arm during the kiss lingering there. He leaves room for Marcus's response, giving every indication of being very interested.]
[ Practicalities are good, for Marcus is not thinking in those terms. The terms he is thinking in is that he wishes to touch them both at the same time, to collect up these little intimacies—scalp still tingling from the brush of Petrana's fingers, Julius' hand set on his arm—as though they could all wake up a second time and find reality once again reset.
(Or as though he will leave this room, and must then reconcile with what is in need of repair, what's been broken beyond it—)
But a frank discourse, such as it is, is not unwelcome. ]
I have as well, [ he says. In breaking from the kiss, he has a knee against the ground so as best to be in range of them both. Where Petrana's hand has drawn away, his trailed his after it, fingers impressed along the inner of her wrist, the loop of ribbon now there. It takes him a second to understadn she is talking of particulars, and adds— ] In either respect.
( she draws his hand to her, and kisses his palm, lightly, bright-eyed. pleased. one could hardly imagine her to have been the same woman pacing this same room an hour beforehand, vexed beyond measure and biting off words she was mostly sure she would regret if she did not. now she is the warm sun, anticipating satisfaction. )
Don't think me presumptuous, then— ( or do, feel free to, she is, ) —or in undue haste, but as we have established you will not come between us as a wedge, might I propose having you between us in a more literal sense?
( she is partial to the idea of having marcus rowntree. on bare feet, she goes to her desk; the bottom drawer and its false back that had presumably at one stage held the secrets of office and these days julius at least knows to mainly contain a few things she's acquired discreetly for their use, the most relevant of which being a jar of oil he might correctly presume is what she's decided to fetch. )
[He certainly has a guess, based on the smile her errand elicits.]
My love, you are all presumption, but you wear it very well. And, [he adds] I think it a very clever suggestion. Assuming it's something we'd all like.
[It isn't quite pitched as a question, but he glances back to Marcus all the same. His proximity alone is pleasantly distracting. Julius suspects that without Petrana's practical streak, he could get pleasantly lost in kissing him and abruptly find himself at a loose end when they suddenly had to arrange three bodies in a way that pleased them all. Instead of kissing Marcus again before he can weight in (tempting as it is), Julius lifts his free hand to lightly trace the line of his jaw, experimenting with his new liberties in a way that suggests he's thought about them before.]
[ Marcus may be doing the math on her proposal, watching her stand and turn and walk over there, but then Julius touches him and he thinks: it is a fine idea, of course, and however they go about it—
He looks back to him. There's a question in there, so he answers it, simply; ] Aye, [ and quietly. And there is time enough to get pleasantly lost.
His hand goes up to press Julius' a little firmer in place, so that it maps against his jaw, his throat, and there is something mirrored there, of experiencing something new, his hand conforming to the back of Julius', pulse warm beneath the other man's palm. Marcus moves back into proximity along with a second kiss, this one designed to push Julius further backwards onto the bed and so that he might climb onto it too, and over him, a knee between his legs other balancing on the outer.
He sits up a little, and will reach for Petrana as soon as she is in range, to reel her in. ]
( how handsome they are together—she could admire them indefinitely, but when marcus draws her near she kisses him, first, and then julius with her fingers still wound through marcus's hair. that she is comfortably at liberty to do so is a wonderful thing, she thinks; the prospect of finding them both warm and handsome and hers. with the idea of that thing being uncomplicated for an hour or two, before they have to contend with—
all else that must be contended with. it can wait while they're here, mischief quirking the corner of petrana's mouth sideways before she presses a knee to the bed and pushes off with her foot to use the force of her small body to tumble them into a pile on it, entangled.
she is quite pleased with herself when she pushes up on her hands, tucking stray hair back behind her ears— )
I don't doubt that we are.
( she leaves her hair where it is, and sets her hands to the laces of her bodice. )
[Her comment draws a warm laugh from him, though he's certainly far from unaffected at finding himself at the bottom of their pleasant tangle.]
This bed is going to crash through the floor under the combined weight of our self-satisfaction.
[The comment is addressed to no one in particular and is not in any way a complaint. But he's always more inclined to joke a bit as he relaxes, at least until his focus is too fully engaged elsewhere. To that end, he reaches for Marcus, idly untucking his shirt. Julius is by now arguably the most dressed of any of them. Maybe it would be gentlemanly to start on his own clothes; instead, he's inclined to help finish what Marcus himself started.]
( petrana laughs, a much less consciously modulated sound than is her usual wont in company - this is, inarguably, somewhat different to what she typically considers in company. sat up on her knees and against marcus's thigh, she loosens the lacings until she can free herself of
the first of several layers, all but one of which fasten tight. there are some benefits to julius's robes. )
I hear no censure, ( she says, placidly, tugging stays undone next. it is deliberate and unhurried and far more intimate than the pleasant hour they had all three passed entirely nude in a hot pool. )
[ The waistcoat is discarded, left to slip off the end of the bed in its own satin lining. He sits back and up a little as he feels Julius' hands snag in his shirt, welcoming the help before taking care of the rest. Predictably leanly muscled beneath the layers of fabric, and probably just as predictable, the errant scars, and a deeper gauging one that seems to stripe right around his ribs, hooking up his back.
Their laughter together seems to warm the room. Marcus is not quite untethered enough to join it, but hearing it is enough. He thinks that this could all overwhelm him, and perhaps it already has.
Julius in his robes will need Marcus to get off him to, well, disrobe, and so he slides off sideways, mattress shifting, until he is half behind Petrana, where his focus shifts. The laces to her stays are already loose but not yet free, so he assists in this, sneaking his hands up under them to feel her through the remaining cloth layer, hands smoothing up her ribs while his other hand goes to loosen her hair from its pins in gentle, encouraging tugs. ]
[Ostensibly to Petrana, but not exclusively. He takes advantage of the opportunity Marcus rather pointedly presented to undo his robes. It's a simpler operation than undressing Petrana, the layers easy to shrug off when unfastened at the few points they're secured. The downside, as Petrana has observed before, is that the simplicity allows little chance for allure, at least as far as the process itself goes. The results are arguably more satisfactory, as Julius is in better shape than his more bookish habits might suggest.
(Perhaps more scarred than they might suggest, too; the mess a dracolisk made of his left shoulder at Ghislain was likely memorable enough from the last time Marcus had seen him disrobed. But the Fifth Blight left him with plenty of smaller scars long before he came to the Inquisition.)
As he turns his attention fully back to the two of them, he take a moment to frankly enjoy the image of Marcus quiet literally undoing Petrana. It's a pleasant sight.]
( a pleasant feeling, too, marcus's hands between her lightweight chemise and the loosening boning of her stays—her hair coming undone, too, uncoiling from its pinned twists so spill down over his hand and to her shoulders. there are still her skirts, too, and petticoats, and she finds herself laughing, again: )
You might make yourself further useful, there looking so pleased with yourself, ( a little dry. he is much easier to undress than either marcus or petrana, and he at least has more than enough practise with both her clothes and the sort marcus favours so there's no call for him to rest on his naked laurels.
as much as she has yet to tire of seeing him, undressed. she is impatient to better acquaint herself with marcus, too, but they have time—will have time—it is not a race.
she makes a sound that might have been an oath from another woman when her impatience pulls a lace tight instead of undone. not a race. )
[ Petrana will miss out, in this current configuration, but Julius from his vantage point will be able to notice the twinge of amusement subtle in Marcus' expression. It will be satisfying to drive them both to a point where even their witty banter falls to the wayside.
Not that he is complaining that it persists. He finds a hook at the back of her chemise up near the nape of her neck, and this he undoes along with the delicate buttons that hold it closed, although as long as the stays are still causing her grief, the most he can do is push the fabric down off one of her shoulders.
And also sweep her now loose her back, and smooth his hand down the curve of throat and shoulder, and then dip low beneath her neckline as his other hand blindly tugs at lacing that cinches her skirt—
—it's not a race.
But there is a subtle sound from him of confusion and impatience both when that tug does not seem to do what he thinks it will, and he leans back to try to see what he's doing. Why are there so many layers. Why are they fastened in this manner. ]
[The momentary impulse to watch Marcus try to work it out is present, but brief. Instead, Julius takes Petrana's instruction and moves to help. Practice means he could make quick work of even her layers if he'd wanted, but instead he takes his time. It suits the moment and, not incidentally, gives Marcus a chance to observe when Julius tugs a different lace, releasing tension in the fabric the other man had accidentally pulled taut.
It is, after all, not a race.
He takes the moment, though, to press a kiss to Petrana's bare shoulder. And he does not observe that his much-criticized choice of wardrobe has some practical advantages, which is its own act of affection under the circumstances.]
( it is not unpleasant, finding herself between two pairs of busy hands—even if the sound she'd made upon a lace pulling tighter had been breathless for a different reason entirely. it comes out in another laugh, bubbled up, leaning forward into julius when he kisses her shoulder in a way that doesn't make her any easier to free of the frankly impractical garments she makes a habit of— )
I will have you both know,
( a warm murmur, in answer to the general air of things unsaid, )
that my present outfitting is, daily, by far a simpler thing than was ever allowed by my lady of the wardrobe.
( this could be so much worse. they don't even know. she says, as she assists in the process, )
I believe there was a time I owned gowns I could not have even instructed you in the removal of.
( the way they're kneeling together on the bed—there isn't really anywhere for the skirts she's wearing to fall to, when they come loose, so much as puff out like a cushion or a parachute as she rises up on her knees, the shape of her suddenly outlined beneath a chemise sheer enough it would have been considered inappropriate for a married woman of status in the city of her birth.
that had, in fact, been one of the reasons she purchased it. )
[ Marcus gladly cedes the fussery of laces and other delicate fastenings to Julius, settled back on his haunches to watch both that and the shape of her as she rises up around the flood of fabric left behind. He strays nearer to impulse, reaching out—
First dragging the sheer fabric up higher to loosen the hems beneath her knees and the trappings of her fallen skirt, and then to (gently) (firmly) push her over and down, a playfulness to the force of it that is no less impatient at the same time. ]
Procure yourself some of those, [ he invites, as he pushes her chemise higher up above her waist. ] See what happens when instructions fail us.
[ He's never used magic in bed, but he has indelicate hands.
Marcus lets himself divert to where Julius is kneeling, ostensibly on the other side of her, and leans over to graze a kiss against his bare shoulder while reaching down to loosen the fastenings of his own trousers.
Impatience is really only a part of what is good about this, the indulgence of it, clothes falling about them like it's raining and there's no need to hurry, no threat of being caught, no possible reprisal, no one to tell them they cannot. ]
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So it's really only a twinge. Marcus can brace against it, before it moves on. ]
It felt wrong to be alone, [ he says, quiet enough that his voice is almost all texture.
And it has felt wrong to be alone in the waking world as well. There has always been some form of companionship, even if not the romantic kind. Circle-mates, soldiers, Sima's gentle breathing where she lay on the other side of a dark room. Whatever aloneness (different, you see, from loneliness) he'd experienced in the Gallows had come about tenfold in the darker of the two dreams.
Marcus looks to Julius, then, and says, ] I don't think it fair to expect it of us, to be exactly as we were in our dream. Those men grew towards something together. I think we shouldn't miss all of that.
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[He supposes if it was of course it wouldn't have needed saying, though, so he adds:]
I don't expect ... It isn't as if we're trying to work backward to get to that exact spot again. I don't think we could. For one thing, that was still two of us and not three. We came to it a different way. But even beyond that, I wouldn't want to presume a familiarity before I'd earned it.
[Julius hadn't even presumed friendliness until Petrana had given him a nudge, and it likely says more about Julius than it does about Marcus under the circumstances. He gives her hand one more squeeze before releasing it so he can also sit, finally, on the edge of the made bed. It occurs to him that he may have backtracked too far, so he adds, softer:]
I do look forward to earning it, if I can.
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I would like to presume some familiarity.
[ —iykwim. ]
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Some, yes, ( is a little sly, her hand falling to julius's knee as he's seen fit to sit himself beside her.
she considers the pair of them. vysvolod, dozing on the far end of the bed, evinces no interest in proceedings whatsoever. )
Then, if I may be so bold: how much shall we consider appropriate to begin? ( it is half proposition, half a fairly clear effort to contain the impulse to suggest immediately that they have this quite large room with two beds pushed together, he might well simply move all his things today- )
I wish to be quite familiar, ( compromises neatly on both points. )
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I would like very much if you stayed awhile, assuming your plans for the day allow. Even if it's just to have your company. [He glances at Petrana, then back to Marcus.] It was an odd night and I expect we'll all of us be required elsewhere soon enough, but I think at a minimum we could take an hour or two.
[It's not not a proposition, for all he feels it is only fair Marcus set their pace. If Julius is a bit more cautious than Petrana, the invitation is still warmly meant, for however Marcus might want to spend that hour or two.]
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The urge to maintain delicate handling is there, the same urge that prevents him from stating without prompting the things he would also like. There is the question of what he deserves up against what they are willing to give, and it all still feels off-kilter. He is off-kilter. He thinks of the case of cigarettes in his pocket but doesn't go for one.
After a beat of observing them both, Marcus reaches down to undo the buckles and laces at his boot. ]
It was an odd night, [ he echoes, as he does this. ] There'll be questions, and talk of what the answers ought to be, who should say them, how they should be said.
[ The boots are nudged aside, and he stands, hands going to the edges of his frockcoat. ]
Solutions may come eventually, but not before more problems are made. [ The coat is left over the back of his chair, and he turns away from them both, moving for the door. There's a key in the lock that he doesn't recall Julius turning, so he turns it, the tiny mechanisms within tumbling heavily into place. ]
I would like very much to avoid it all for an hour or two.
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( today is likely to be strange for everyone; it's entirely possible that a morning's absence will be far from noteworthy, amongst the rest. she considers his coat, mentally preparing future arguments as to the benefits of not dressing in robes—e.g. that what marcus just did was quite attractive, and wouldn't julius like to be able to be half so dramatic as the two of them—and when she straightens from the bed it's to step out of the lightweight indoor slippers she's wearing and,
prudently,
to encourage vysvolod off the end of the bed. it is, as noted, not one bed originally but two, tightly pressed together and made up as one with far more space than they've ever really needed—at least, until this morning.
she touches julius's arm, lightly, and then frames his face with her fingertips: ) Isn't this much more productive than we were? ( wryly. )
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[He has every confidence that the two of them would have managed without Marcus, if he'd said he preferred not to try it. It would hurt, but they'd have survived it. That said, he finds himself sharply glad they don't have to as he watches Marcus across the distance between the now-locked door and the bed.]
Won't you come join us?
[While the tone is light, the look that accompanies it is sharply attentive.]
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This is all new, even down to the notion of having two other human bodies to consider, let alone all they have signified to him in the past year, in the past twelve hours. ]
To discuss the situation? [ is his reply to Julius, and he resists the urge to look at Petrana as he moves in close to where the other man is seated on the edge of the bed, giving him no time at all before his hands come up to gently take his face, to lean down to kiss him, as if finishing the up until this moment broken circle of intimacy—
—if more thoroughly than the tender exchanges prior. ]
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another knot. the one holding neatly back his hair, it comes free with her nimble fingers, and all so absent-minded she ties it loose around her own wrist before threading her fingers into now-freed hair.
her own is pinned up, neat, off her neck. her dress is simple, but more by her standards than anyone else's, and she's made no start on undressing herself beyond her shoes. when they do part, she considers the tableau, which is not unpleasant, and the prospect of what's to follow it. )
I can think of several ways, ( eventually, ) that we might pass these hours.
( logistically speaking. granted, there was never a third party in her marriagebed—nevertheless, it's extremely likely that petrana's sexual history is the most creatively adventurous of the three of them. she has some ideas. )
Perhaps we ought to establish where we are most comfortable beginning. I know that Julius has been with men—
( there is an implied question, and yes, this still counts as frank discourse where she's concerned. )
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When they finally do part, Marcus's hands still framing Julius's face, it takes him a moment to fully register Petrana's comment. When he gets there, the comment draws a bit of warmth to his smile for its sensible practicality. He could confirm, elaborate ... but instead he waits, the hand that went to Marcus's arm during the kiss lingering there. He leaves room for Marcus's response, giving every indication of being very interested.]
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(Or as though he will leave this room, and must then reconcile with what is in need of repair, what's been broken beyond it—)
But a frank discourse, such as it is, is not unwelcome. ]
I have as well, [ he says. In breaking from the kiss, he has a knee against the ground so as best to be in range of them both. Where Petrana's hand has drawn away, his trailed his after it, fingers impressed along the inner of her wrist, the loop of ribbon now there. It takes him a second to understadn she is talking of particulars, and adds— ] In either respect.
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Don't think me presumptuous, then— ( or do, feel free to, she is, ) —or in undue haste, but as we have established you will not come between us as a wedge, might I propose having you between us in a more literal sense?
( she is partial to the idea of having marcus rowntree. on bare feet, she goes to her desk; the bottom drawer and its false back that had presumably at one stage held the secrets of office and these days julius at least knows to mainly contain a few things she's acquired discreetly for their use, the most relevant of which being a jar of oil he might correctly presume is what she's decided to fetch. )
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My love, you are all presumption, but you wear it very well. And, [he adds] I think it a very clever suggestion. Assuming it's something we'd all like.
[It isn't quite pitched as a question, but he glances back to Marcus all the same. His proximity alone is pleasantly distracting. Julius suspects that without Petrana's practical streak, he could get pleasantly lost in kissing him and abruptly find himself at a loose end when they suddenly had to arrange three bodies in a way that pleased them all. Instead of kissing Marcus again before he can weight in (tempting as it is), Julius lifts his free hand to lightly trace the line of his jaw, experimenting with his new liberties in a way that suggests he's thought about them before.]
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He looks back to him. There's a question in there, so he answers it, simply; ] Aye, [ and quietly. And there is time enough to get pleasantly lost.
His hand goes up to press Julius' a little firmer in place, so that it maps against his jaw, his throat, and there is something mirrored there, of experiencing something new, his hand conforming to the back of Julius', pulse warm beneath the other man's palm. Marcus moves back into proximity along with a second kiss, this one designed to push Julius further backwards onto the bed and so that he might climb onto it too, and over him, a knee between his legs other balancing on the outer.
He sits up a little, and will reach for Petrana as soon as she is in range, to reel her in. ]
I think we're clever enough to make up the rest.
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all else that must be contended with. it can wait while they're here, mischief quirking the corner of petrana's mouth sideways before she presses a knee to the bed and pushes off with her foot to use the force of her small body to tumble them into a pile on it, entangled.
she is quite pleased with herself when she pushes up on her hands, tucking stray hair back behind her ears— )
I don't doubt that we are.
( she leaves her hair where it is, and sets her hands to the laces of her bodice. )
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This bed is going to crash through the floor under the combined weight of our self-satisfaction.
[The comment is addressed to no one in particular and is not in any way a complaint. But he's always more inclined to joke a bit as he relaxes, at least until his focus is too fully engaged elsewhere. To that end, he reaches for Marcus, idly untucking his shirt. Julius is by now arguably the most dressed of any of them. Maybe it would be gentlemanly to start on his own clothes; instead, he's inclined to help finish what Marcus himself started.]
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the first of several layers, all but one of which fasten tight. there are some benefits to julius's robes. )
I hear no censure, ( she says, placidly, tugging stays undone next. it is deliberate and unhurried and far more intimate than the pleasant hour they had all three passed entirely nude in a hot pool. )
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Their laughter together seems to warm the room. Marcus is not quite untethered enough to join it, but hearing it is enough. He thinks that this could all overwhelm him, and perhaps it already has.
Julius in his robes will need Marcus to get off him to, well, disrobe, and so he slides off sideways, mattress shifting, until he is half behind Petrana, where his focus shifts. The laces to her stays are already loose but not yet free, so he assists in this, sneaking his hands up under them to feel her through the remaining cloth layer, hands smoothing up her ribs while his other hand goes to loosen her hair from its pins in gentle, encouraging tugs. ]
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[Ostensibly to Petrana, but not exclusively. He takes advantage of the opportunity Marcus rather pointedly presented to undo his robes. It's a simpler operation than undressing Petrana, the layers easy to shrug off when unfastened at the few points they're secured. The downside, as Petrana has observed before, is that the simplicity allows little chance for allure, at least as far as the process itself goes. The results are arguably more satisfactory, as Julius is in better shape than his more bookish habits might suggest.
(Perhaps more scarred than they might suggest, too; the mess a dracolisk made of his left shoulder at Ghislain was likely memorable enough from the last time Marcus had seen him disrobed. But the Fifth Blight left him with plenty of smaller scars long before he came to the Inquisition.)
As he turns his attention fully back to the two of them, he take a moment to frankly enjoy the image of Marcus quiet literally undoing Petrana. It's a pleasant sight.]
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You might make yourself further useful, there looking so pleased with yourself, ( a little dry. he is much easier to undress than either marcus or petrana, and he at least has more than enough practise with both her clothes and the sort marcus favours so there's no call for him to rest on his naked laurels.
as much as she has yet to tire of seeing him, undressed. she is impatient to better acquaint herself with marcus, too, but they have time—will have time—it is not a race.
she makes a sound that might have been an oath from another woman when her impatience pulls a lace tight instead of undone. not a race. )
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Not that he is complaining that it persists. He finds a hook at the back of her chemise up near the nape of her neck, and this he undoes along with the delicate buttons that hold it closed, although as long as the stays are still causing her grief, the most he can do is push the fabric down off one of her shoulders.
And also sweep her now loose her back, and smooth his hand down the curve of throat and shoulder, and then dip low beneath her neckline as his other hand blindly tugs at lacing that cinches her skirt—
—it's not a race.
But there is a subtle sound from him of confusion and impatience both when that tug does not seem to do what he thinks it will, and he leans back to try to see what he's doing. Why are there so many layers. Why are they fastened in this manner. ]
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It is, after all, not a race.
He takes the moment, though, to press a kiss to Petrana's bare shoulder. And he does not observe that his much-criticized choice of wardrobe has some practical advantages, which is its own act of affection under the circumstances.]
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I will have you both know,
( a warm murmur, in answer to the general air of things unsaid, )
that my present outfitting is, daily, by far a simpler thing than was ever allowed by my lady of the wardrobe.
( this could be so much worse. they don't even know. she says, as she assists in the process, )
I believe there was a time I owned gowns I could not have even instructed you in the removal of.
( the way they're kneeling together on the bed—there isn't really anywhere for the skirts she's wearing to fall to, when they come loose, so much as puff out like a cushion or a parachute as she rises up on her knees, the shape of her suddenly outlined beneath a chemise sheer enough it would have been considered inappropriate for a married woman of status in the city of her birth.
that had, in fact, been one of the reasons she purchased it. )
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First dragging the sheer fabric up higher to loosen the hems beneath her knees and the trappings of her fallen skirt, and then to (gently) (firmly) push her over and down, a playfulness to the force of it that is no less impatient at the same time. ]
Procure yourself some of those, [ he invites, as he pushes her chemise higher up above her waist. ] See what happens when instructions fail us.
[ He's never used magic in bed, but he has indelicate hands.
Marcus lets himself divert to where Julius is kneeling, ostensibly on the other side of her, and leans over to graze a kiss against his bare shoulder while reaching down to loosen the fastenings of his own trousers.
Impatience is really only a part of what is good about this, the indulgence of it, clothes falling about them like it's raining and there's no need to hurry, no threat of being caught, no possible reprisal, no one to tell them they cannot. ]
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should probably mark nsfw at least once;
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