"It seems as though you are lacking in co-ordination."
"I'm sorry. I am not usually this clumsy."
Solomon smiles easily and wraps a long fingered hand around Skulduggery's arm. It is warm and unclothed, the smooth flesh tantalizing as it is forbidden. He hauls him up and steps backwards so that there is space between the two. Skulduggery's expression is sheepish, and his eyes are the most amazing cyan cerulean manganese sky cobalt, so vivid and haunting, speckled with gold and amber. Solomon's chest constricts almost painfully; he is enchanted with the being that is Skulduggery Pleasant.
But he knows not to fool himself, knows that what he wants isn't normal and that Skulduggery is most definitely interested in pretty girls, with their long ruffled skirts and rouged cheeks; more importantly, their smooth, luscious curves. He is not interested by what Solomon has to offer, hard planes and hard ... you get the gist.
Skulduggery claps him on the shoulder jovially. "Thank you. I don't know what has gotten into me today," he chuckles, trailing his strong hand down Solomon's arm. Solomon breathes sharply through his nose and reprimands himself for acting like a love struck teenager. Which he sort of is, but he detests to act like one. He nods, sinfully dark hair falling into one side of his face, and bids Skulduggery goodbye. He will undoubtedly see him again, with his golden skin and lovely sienna bistre umber russet sepia hair, which he longs to run his fingers through and-
"Solomon? Where are you going?" Skulduggery asks, all wide eyed and perfectly innocent. Solomon frowns. Skulduggery Pleasant does not do innocent, and Solomon wagers he never will. He leans in and fans his sweet breath over his face, eyebrows furrowed and utterly kissable rose carmine thulian amaranth mouth twisted into a frown. "To my quarters. It is becoming late," Solomon manages.
"Oh, I see. Would you like for me to accompany you?"
Solomon's heart skips a beat.
"No, thank you, Skulduggery. I am fine."
Skulduggery's hopeful expression turns to something else. "Perhaps I should be more forward, Solomon," he murmurs before leaning in to press his lips to Solomon's own.
I picture this from when they were truly young, probably around the 1920's ?
I'm not sure. The Solomon in my head is a romantic at heart.
Heh.