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sonofgraniteWhat fictional character would you like to be?
The question would normally have seemed nonsensical to Ruairí. After all, most people considered the púca himself, or at least his kind, to be fictional. But tonight he had an answer. Tonight he was Don Juan de Marco ... the sensitive and passionate lover from the Depp movie, not the rake and cad from the operas. At least he was trying for that particular archetype.
Abby had only been able to arrange a half-day off on her birthday, but she had tomorrow off as well. Not that she'd given any hint of what she might want as a present; in fact she'd been close-mouthed on the entire subject. Ruairí decided that the best gift he could give her was an evening of tender loving care followed by that most precious of commodities for an aspiring resident: a morning to lie around in bed.
To this end, there were candles and flowers on the tables and a meal-- prepared by Cait, not him –keeping warm in the oven or chilling in the refrigerator as the courses required. Cushions and soft throws formed a comfortable nest in the living room, perfect for curling up together and watching a romantic movie (five of which had been rented, including the aforementioned Depp movie) or stretching out and receiving a massage from one's very attentive lover. An array of bath salts, oils and bubbles waited by the sinfully large tub in Cait's bathroom, theirs for the evening like the rest of the apartment.
And that array didn't even touch on the assortment of possibilities waiting in the bedroom.
Ruairí sighed as he dropped onto the couch, facing the entryway. Preparations completed, the only thing lacking was the birthday girl.
Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 304
The question would normally have seemed nonsensical to Ruairí. After all, most people considered the púca himself, or at least his kind, to be fictional. But tonight he had an answer. Tonight he was Don Juan de Marco ... the sensitive and passionate lover from the Depp movie, not the rake and cad from the operas. At least he was trying for that particular archetype.
Abby had only been able to arrange a half-day off on her birthday, but she had tomorrow off as well. Not that she'd given any hint of what she might want as a present; in fact she'd been close-mouthed on the entire subject. Ruairí decided that the best gift he could give her was an evening of tender loving care followed by that most precious of commodities for an aspiring resident: a morning to lie around in bed.
To this end, there were candles and flowers on the tables and a meal-- prepared by Cait, not him –keeping warm in the oven or chilling in the refrigerator as the courses required. Cushions and soft throws formed a comfortable nest in the living room, perfect for curling up together and watching a romantic movie (five of which had been rented, including the aforementioned Depp movie) or stretching out and receiving a massage from one's very attentive lover. An array of bath salts, oils and bubbles waited by the sinfully large tub in Cait's bathroom, theirs for the evening like the rest of the apartment.
And that array didn't even touch on the assortment of possibilities waiting in the bedroom.
Ruairí sighed as he dropped onto the couch, facing the entryway. Preparations completed, the only thing lacking was the birthday girl.
Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 304
