"Ah Tsu-chan . . . if only . . . but I'm too much of a gentleman to take
you in this state!" Murmured Muraki, self-effacing as he laid a very
plastered Tsuzuki on his bed. "So perfect, even in sleep!"
Tsuzuki rolled over, snoring not so lightly, a trail of spittle running down his chin. Muraki absently wiped it away - it was after all the lesser of two evils compared too earlier when Tsuzuki had emptied his stomach at Muraki's feet. Even though he had been inebriated and beyond his own comprehension, Muraki had come to the conclusion more than once already, that Tsuzuki might have been aiming. That thought aside, he continued.
"My sweet, if only you . . . " Muraki suddenly remembered his bedside manner. It WAS after all the custom in these situations to strip down the ailing . . . er. . . so they could breathe better . . . and be more comfortable and such . . . Muraki absently wiped away his own drool as he got to work.
(Such a martyr.)
Muraki's earlier thoughts about not ravishing a certain drunken shinigami were forgotten. As there was no witness to his saying it anyway, Muraki was rather pleased with the outcome (after all, who was he to deny his nature?). To be on the safe side, he doused himself in sake so if Tsuzuki woke up he could claim he had also been drunk, stripped himself off and crawled into bed.
Or rather attempted to.
Dousing oneself in alcohol turned out not to be such a good idea, and Muraki had after all matched Tsuzuki bottle for bottle at the bar earlier. He staggered a little, making it to the coffee table before deciding it would be enough to admire his love from afar, and promptly passed out.
Which was rather a good thing for Muraki, because all those romantic looking, mood-light providing candles and alcohol fumes do not mix. A reminder to all fangirls (and boys, should they exist) fire is not a toy.
Had Muraki ignited it would most assuredly have set off the fire alarms and overhead sprinklers, which (despite conjecture otherwise) would surely have woken up Tsuzuki. This would have ruined any . . . developments in the fic (although one could argue Tsuzuki might still be drunk and vulnerable - this is irrelevant (the fact Muraki didn't get any anyway is also irrelevant))
So keep in mind, if you must have your characters playing in bed with candles and the like, always have at least one of them sober. Preferably with a fire extinguisher on hand (a CO2 one is recommend - no residual mess, no problem with electric's).
Sankyuu.
Tsuzuki rolled over, snoring not so lightly, a trail of spittle running down his chin. Muraki absently wiped it away - it was after all the lesser of two evils compared too earlier when Tsuzuki had emptied his stomach at Muraki's feet. Even though he had been inebriated and beyond his own comprehension, Muraki had come to the conclusion more than once already, that Tsuzuki might have been aiming. That thought aside, he continued.
"My sweet, if only you . . . " Muraki suddenly remembered his bedside manner. It WAS after all the custom in these situations to strip down the ailing . . . er. . . so they could breathe better . . . and be more comfortable and such . . . Muraki absently wiped away his own drool as he got to work.
(Such a martyr.)
Muraki's earlier thoughts about not ravishing a certain drunken shinigami were forgotten. As there was no witness to his saying it anyway, Muraki was rather pleased with the outcome (after all, who was he to deny his nature?). To be on the safe side, he doused himself in sake so if Tsuzuki woke up he could claim he had also been drunk, stripped himself off and crawled into bed.
Or rather attempted to.
Dousing oneself in alcohol turned out not to be such a good idea, and Muraki had after all matched Tsuzuki bottle for bottle at the bar earlier. He staggered a little, making it to the coffee table before deciding it would be enough to admire his love from afar, and promptly passed out.
Which was rather a good thing for Muraki, because all those romantic looking, mood-light providing candles and alcohol fumes do not mix. A reminder to all fangirls (and boys, should they exist) fire is not a toy.
Had Muraki ignited it would most assuredly have set off the fire alarms and overhead sprinklers, which (despite conjecture otherwise) would surely have woken up Tsuzuki. This would have ruined any . . . developments in the fic (although one could argue Tsuzuki might still be drunk and vulnerable - this is irrelevant (the fact Muraki didn't get any anyway is also irrelevant))
So keep in mind, if you must have your characters playing in bed with candles and the like, always have at least one of them sober. Preferably with a fire extinguisher on hand (a CO2 one is recommend - no residual mess, no problem with electric's).
Sankyuu.