mistletoe meme comment with your character bam, now your character is under some mistletoe. no moving until you lock lips with someone. easy as it sounds.
Ah. That is exceedingly generous... [ Well. Now he can't exactly make fun of those elves with lots of names. Without being a hypocrite, anyway. ] It has been a long time since I was given a name. You do me great honor, this shall not be forgotten.
[ He looks genuinely pleased at the compliment, though spending a couple of thousand years cut off from kith and kin will flag even the heartiest of souls. Nuada tilts his head barely an inch, better to reward the other man with a series of lazy, but no less potent kisses.
Frankly, he plans on staying right where he is until Thranduil has had his fill of being rescued. There are certainly worse ways to pass an evening, and the Sindarin elf is charming. ]
It was the first to come to mind, I feel certain a plethora of others will make themselves known if you fail to stop me. [ His grin brushes an ear, voice dropping to a welcoming rumble. ] Put aside your manners with your servant, fair prince.
[ He leans back against a wall, enclosing Nuada in his arms at the waist as the kisses and hair=stroking continues like cats in their own bed. ]
I would not dare to assume that all of them fall on the complimentary side of the line. In any case, a man needs but one. [ Just whom is rescuing - or ensnaring - whom, here. ] That his enemies may know who to curse for their misfortune.
[ Manners? Hah. This is being polite, Nuada likes the Arda elf. He's capable of much worse ... at least when not reclining against a wall, intimately, with a new found comrade. ]
Such a threat, indeed. I'm a-flutter and shaking at the very thought.
Or which warrior to praise when all other words fall away.
[ Sort lips brush along a pointed ear, silk-wet with a fleeting lick. Thranduil's hot breath remains there as he pushes a smile against a temple, an arm wound around Nuada's waist and the other trickling long fingers through that enticing hair.
He noses along a cheek, his attention down on the locks. ]
[ Or a gift, if the occasion calls for it. Nuada pushes away those thoughts, preferring to concentrate on more pleasant thoughts, like ... oh, who's a tease now. His teeth bare when Thranduil's tongue finds his ear, and there's a fleeting prayer that Nuala is also enjoying this. ]
Not words I was thinking of speaking publicly, dear one.
[ His laughter is low and huffing, and the six-foot-seven Elvenking somehow manages to hide in the curve of Nuada's neck. Innocent, so very innocent as he presses his cheek to a swathe of sleek locks. ]
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Ah. That is exceedingly generous... [ Well. Now he can't exactly make fun of those elves with lots of names. Without being a hypocrite, anyway. ] It has been a long time since I was given a name. You do me great honor, this shall not be forgotten.
[ He looks genuinely pleased at the compliment, though spending a couple of thousand years cut off from kith and kin will flag even the heartiest of souls. Nuada tilts his head barely an inch, better to reward the other man with a series of lazy, but no less potent kisses.
Frankly, he plans on staying right where he is until Thranduil has had his fill of being rescued. There are certainly worse ways to pass an evening, and the Sindarin elf is charming. ]
You have a poet's gift for words.
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[ He leans back against a wall, enclosing Nuada in his arms at the waist as the kisses and hair=stroking continues like cats in their own bed. ]
Otherwise, I may well wax lyrical.
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[ Manners? Hah. This is being polite, Nuada likes the Arda elf. He's capable of much worse ... at least when not reclining against a wall, intimately, with a new found comrade. ]
Such a threat, indeed. I'm a-flutter and shaking at the very thought.
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[ Sort lips brush along a pointed ear, silk-wet with a fleeting lick. Thranduil's hot breath remains there as he pushes a smile against a temple, an arm wound around Nuada's waist and the other trickling long fingers through that enticing hair.
He noses along a cheek, his attention down on the locks. ]
Your hair was once a darker gold?
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[ Or a gift, if the occasion calls for it. Nuada pushes away those thoughts, preferring to concentrate on more pleasant thoughts, like ... oh, who's a tease now. His teeth bare when Thranduil's tongue finds his ear, and there's a fleeting prayer that Nuala is also enjoying this. ]
Once, when I was younger.
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[ His laughter is low and huffing, and the six-foot-seven Elvenking somehow manages to hide in the curve of Nuada's neck. Innocent, so very innocent as he presses his cheek to a swathe of sleek locks. ]
You seem quite young with me.