This silverwroght cup is a masterpiece from the Roman Empire. Probably, it was an appointment of wealthy members of a Greek community in the Levant, where it was found. Since 1999 the cup is a property of the British Museum of London.
The reliefs are worked in the technique of repoussé, that means the metal is hammered from the reverse to create a low relief on the front. Silver findings are very rare, because precious metal was often melted down during later times. This one is among the remaining of “virtuosic craftmanship” (Neil MacGregor: Warren Cup. In: A History of the World in 100 Objects).
Two homoerotic scenes are shown. The Romans had no concept of, or word for, homosexuality, while in the Greek world the partnering of older men with youths was an accepted element of education. The first scene is situated in a luxuriously equipped house, with sofas, rich draperies and musical instruments like a lyra on the walls. The sofa is abundantly fitted up with soft cushions and duvets, supporting an honoured man in his prime (mark the beard and the laurel wreath in his hair). Atop and with his back to him, is a younger man, who lowers himself just down, searching hold on a rope, which is fastened above. Although the elder one is suspected to be the more experienced, it is the younger who leads with his right hand the motion of his lover. They are watched by a servent who peeps through an open door in the far corner of the room on the right.
The second scene is more stereotyped: Two young men, one of them clearly still in his adolescence, are settlled down on cushions and blankets, the older holding the younger in his arms, their legs entwined.
A/n: Holy crap sorry for not posting in a long time and I just had this in my document for long so I thought why not post it? Hope you enjoy and sorry if it’s short and the ending’s kinda messy (That gif is just making my heart melt omg)
Warning: Idk, um angst? but fluff at the end!
Word count: 699
Everything blurred in a second, your teammates shouting your
name as you fell to the cold hard ground, a bullet made its way through your
stomach, you felt someone pick your head up, laying it on someone’s lap. You
felt drops of water hit your cheeks as it cascaded down your face. To realize
it was tears, the tears of your boyfriend, Warren. “N-no…no.” You heard him
whimper, you moved your gaze towards him and you let out a small smile
“W-Warren.” You stuttered out “Hang on, hang on (y/n), you’ll make it. ”He says
as you feel his hand grip yours like it was the only thing keeping him alive,
you started coughing out blood. “Baby..” Warren trailed off cupping your cheek
with his huge hand, you shook your head “Don’t worry, War.” You say trying to get
a grip of his calloused hand which was gripping yours.
“SCOTT, JEAN, KURT,
JUBILEE!!” Warren screamed as tears fully escaped his blue, ocean-like, eyes.
Warren’s hand was now at your wound, applying pressure to it
as you continued to cough. “Hurry!!” Warren shouted, tears still cascaded down
his face, to yours, you knew you’ll never make it, but you have to, but the
pain was too much. Too much, your eyelids feeling heavy, “War.” You croaked. His
eyes were on me an instant “I-I love you.” You say “I love y-you t-too.” Warren
says pecking my forehead “Help is here (y/n), just-just hold on, alright?
You’ll make it, I promise.” He says, but all you can hear was a familiar sound
of a jet landing, and you also felt somebody take you away from Warren’s arms,
you no longer felt your hand on his, you finally blacked out.
All you could see was
a bright white light, is this it? Are you finally leaving your friends, family
behind? Warren? But no, you heard the steady beating of a heart monitor, a hand
interlaced with yours, you opened your eyes, slowly, blinked, you were alive.
Alive. You feel the tears sting your eyes, you looked over to your side, to see
Warren, asleep by your side, holding your hand.
His wings were
droopy, he had his head bowed down on the mattress, he appeared to be sleeping
although that was confirmed when you heard a small snore came from him which
made you laugh a bit, “Warren.” You croaked, in a minute, Warren was already up
and by your side.
He started cupping
your cheeks and smothering kisses on all over your face, “Oh baby” Warren says
as he left a final kiss to your lips.
“H-how long was I
out?” You asked curiously “About 4 days.” He says. You inspected his face, how
tired he looked. “Are you alright?” Warren asks “Yeah, maybe a little thirsty
and…hungry.” You say with a slight laugh,
Warren gripped your hand in his as he
pecked your forehead “Wait, I’ll get you something.” He says, you nodded as he
exited the room. You smiled to yourself, thankful that you were still alive.
Warren came back with some snacks and a glass of water. You took your time
eating, chatting with Warren as he intertwined your free hand with his,
stroking it with his thumb.
You were glad to be back. You noticed the dark
circles under Warren’s eyes “Warren,” you say, making him look up at you with a
raised eyebrow “Have you gotten any sleep?” You asked.
Warren looked down for a
bit before solemnly shaking his head no, you sighed, finishing your snack,
drinking the glass of water and placing it on the bedside table. You moved
aside, making Warren look at you with curiosity.
You tapped on your side “Come
on, you need some rest.” You say looking at him. He slowly got up from his
chair, sitting down on the bed and managing to lie down, so you both were
facing each other. His wing instinctively wrapped around you, you snuggled
further to him, his arm carefully avoiding the wound on your stomach as it
wrapped around your waist. You sighed deeply, Warren smiled to himself, he
thought that he was going to lose you, but he didn’t, he didn’t.
He hates that you are so fucking good at what you do, it just gives him another reason to get huffy because he got into the bar fight because of you in the first place. Warren does not want your lecture on getting into fights or your narrative on what you’re stitching up this time around.
“You know, Warren, there’s this thing called picking your battles. You don’t need to fight every single guy in the bar. It’s kind of a buzz kill.”
Warren snorts and then winces when you dab the antiseptic soap with a cloth onto the large cut on his side. He’s pretty sure that was from a broken bottle but it could have also been a pocket knife.
“It’s a buzz kill when they think they can flirt with you right in front of me.”
“Warren, babe. You can’t just beat them to a pulp- you’re lucky the cut isn’t deep. No stitches tonight.”
He looks down at you, watching you cover up the cut with gauze, your fingers lingering just a little longer on his torso, gliding over the countless other scars from his time in Germany, counting each one that you touched just barely. Warren might not actually mind another lecture if you keep touching him like that.
“I don’t know about lucky. I like it when you’re my nurse.”
“First of all, mister Worthington, nurses can’t give stitches. Secondly, you’re lucky I don’t kick your ass for scaring me. No more fights.”
Warren grins at you, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead against yours, his nose bumping against your in the process. He can feel the shaky breath you let out and how you step closer toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Can’t promise you that.”
The Warren Cup is a unique silver Roman skyphos (or drinking cup) featuring two representations of homoerotic sexual acts. It was most probably commissioned from Greek craftsmen in 1-20 AD (or the first century AD in general) by a Roman client, perhaps during the Hellenising reign of Nero…
Warren and Y/N had been so, so happy. It seemed to be that the two deeply in love mutants were going to get their fairytale ending.
Had and seemed being the key words.
Had and seemed use to be were and looks to be before Y/N died.
It was suppose to be a normal, easy going mission. Just Y/N and Scott scoping out, not attacking or rescuing anyone, just scooping out, a Nevada facility that the professor knew mutants were being held and experimented in. Jean and Warren had wanted to go but the latter had broken a wing on the last mission and Jean was still getting chronic migraines from using her powers so she was benched from all missions until further notice.
“I love you,” Warren murmured lowly against her lips, their foreheads were touching and their nose were brushing against one another. If you ignored that Y/N was decked out in tight black leather and that Warren was not only in checkered pajama bottoms with the bright pink bunny slippers Peter had gotten him as a mock gift one year, and one of his giant white wings was in a bright orange cast, then the scene could be considered romantic.
Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s clinginess, but still raised herself onto her tippy toes to peck his lips, “I love you too you big mush.”
Warren’s hands traveled to her hips while his blue eyes fluttered shut as he kissed back, his soft lips pressed against hers harder and her thin ones opened up a tad bit more when the couple heard an uncomfortable cough behind them. Y/N pulled away first, though Warren refused to let the iron like grip on her hips go.
“Professor,” Y/N flushed as the older, bald telepath, cheekily, smiled at his two staff members.
“I’ve told you a hundred times since we’ve become colleagues, call me Charles.”
“Course Pro-Charles,” Y/N smiled, still not use to calling the man who was once her educator by his given name.
“Now, as much as I’m sure Warren doesn’t want to hear it, but it’s time for yours and Scott’s departure.” Charles told Y/N, almost regretfully. Warrens shoulders sagged while you smiled gratefully at the man.
“Thank you Charles,” she turned to Warren and cupped his check, making the winged mutant look her in the eyes, “I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Warren nodded.
“Take your time, just-just come back safely,” Warren instructed, and Y/N nodded. She lifted herself up again for one more, breath taking kiss before waving at the Professor and making her way to the Blackbird, where Scott was already starting the plane.
Now some might think that’s where the story ends, the last breath taking kiss goodbye. Warren’s ‘When will they return from war’ moping being obvious, but it’s not.
Our story ends with Scott Summers crying, his tears full of regret and sobbing that Y/N should have been the one to make it back to the manson. Not him.
Our story ends with Scott Summers, who is bloody and has two different bullet wounds-one in his upper left thigh and the other in his right shoulder, bleeding in the School’s infirmary while Warren sits in his room sobbing.
Warren who can barely breath because the healing wound his chest, the one he felt for so long because he didn’t belong, is back and it’s so much worse because the one person who helped heal it is gone.
Dead someone in the Nevada desert, never to come home, to have an empty casket and a beautiful headstone while their body rots under the hellish sun.
Our story ends with Warren Worthington the third curled up in his room-it not theirs anymore because there is no more them -hoping he’s having a realistic nightmare and when he wakes up Y/N will be right there.
Our story ends with this not being a nightmare and instead reality.
Any day Sean Prescott demanded his son
come home and they have ‘a talk’ was a bad day. However, this time, Nathan knew
that he had fucked up for good – that he and Warren had not been careful
enough. The way his father had forcefully tugged at his son’s reddish-brown hair
while calling him a disgrace and a fag was a good indication for that.
Eventually, the head of the Prescott family had dismissed Nathan, but not
without a polite final warning. The nineteen-year
old had left with a massive headache and a feeling of dread in the pit of his
That was almost two weeks ago and he
had not seen Warren since. Of course, they ran into each other during their days,
but they had not talked or anything. It was like the time before they had really
gotten to know one another, when acknowledging the other’s existence was the
highlight of their daily interaction. However, now Warren did not even look at
Nathan anymore and he was scared shitless that this was it now. That Sean Prescott
had scared away his boyfriend for good.
The boy’s dorm is always very silent in early hours of the morning. A calming, orange filter bringing this usually mischief-ridden hall, to a tranquil hault, as well as illuminating the slow-moving dust in the air. It’s during these hours that Nathan is able to think abroad and clear his head of yesterday’s incidents, whatever they shall be. They’re almost always bleak memories that he actually remembers, like the consistent yelling, bleeding, and crying. None of the good moments; if he even had any that day.
The blond normally starts out with telling himself, “Today is a new day.” That the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and any that normal person should appreciate that kind of thing; although, he thinks people say that kind of stuff just to be all artsy and “down-to-earth”. But on this particular morning, Nathan begins with forgetting the previous night’s awful dream. Disregarding every last detail embedded into his already damaged mindset to figure out a way to get himself out of bed. As torturous images of that nightmare plague his eyelids, he hears a small knock at his door. Nathan figures someone had heard him talking aloud, so he decided not to answer.
“If you’re going to ignore me, I’ll take this coffee elsewhere.”
That voice is recognizable but has no face yet, leaving Nathan to ponder if he should open the door or not. He decides its best if he lets the other go on his way to a different dorm, keeping silent in hopes of reciprocation. Sadly, that does not come. The male outside his door becomes impatient, or at least that’s what it sounds like considering how loud and exaggerated that sigh was Nathan just heard.
“Okay, I lied. Your name is on the cup, I can’t exactly give it to anyone else. You liked that peppermint one, right?”
Now, he’s confused. Who in their right mind would remember such a small detail like that? Nathan pushes himself out of bed and past piles of discarded papers, bed springs making notice of his movement. His excuse for those failed attempts at art? An artist can’t draw without motive, for which he has none. Whoever is behind this door will just have to deal with his messiness if they are to enter. On that note, Nathan unlocks and cracks open the door enough for him to look out of it, faced with someone he wouldn’t have expected to ever grace the front side of his door with their presence.
“Warren? Really? It’s 6:40, what are you even doing up?”
The energy in Nathan isn’t enough to power any string of rude comments, leaving him in this passive state of mind at the moment. Once he takes his pills, those rage induced outbursts should commense. So casually, he opens his door the rest of the way, seeing no threat in the brunet. But despite that fact, Nathan’s body stands still in the doorway, eyes glancing at Warren, to the coffee cup with his name on it, and back again. The aroma of peppermint calms his nerves, causing Nathan to give the other a very soft and tired expression.
“I just-..I-I felt terrible about spilling that coffee on you during Bio. My hands weren’t connecting with my brain properly and your project got ruined. This is sort of a peace offering? It’s shitty, sure. And I didn’t exactly know how much sugar you wanted in it; or if you even wanted any at all? So I took my best shot at recreating the smell.”
Warren held out the steaming cup in his hand, dainty fingers avoiding the hot surface underneath the cup protector. His demeanor portrayed a similar relaxed feeling that made Nathan just as serene as the coffee smell allowed him to be, if not more. He guesses that its because Warren is an actual human and not a liquid. And, to the brunet’s surprise, Nathan pivoted around and walked to his couch without locking, or even closing the door. A silent welcome into his dorm, which Warren took happily.
“You okay with a little secondhand smoke?” Nathan asked, sitting himself down and sliding out a small, metal box from under the low coffee table. The other gave him a quick nod after closing the door and taking the seat right beside him, making Nathan jolt a bit when he looked back. He believed the brunet to be sitting too close, scooting away ever so slightly and resuming his routine, self-diagnosed, wake-up medicine.
Warren was very reluctant to keep holding onto the burning hot coffee, as the temperature of the cup started affecting its holder. He placed it onto the table in front of him along with his own, even though his was already warm enough to drink. He felt like his hands needed to be free if his attempt at befriending the well-known bully was to work. Plus he’s the type of person to talk with his hands, which got him into this situation in the first place.
Looking around to find anything worthy of discussion, his eyes snap over to Nathan’s hands once that lighter flicks on, igniting the tip of his blunt.
“So, how’s your morning going?”
The blond looked over at him like he was crazy, eyebrows furrowed and expression hard, as if to try and read between the lines.
“It’s been okay, just very slow.” He said, taking his first drag of the day and letting the smoke pour out of his mouth as he spoke again, “How has your’s been so far?”
Warren felt slightly uncomfortable when those sleepy, irritated eyes fixated themselves onto his own, shifting to lean back against the couch cushion, “Its been uneventful and eventful at the same time, if you get that at all?” He paused briefly to gather his thoughts so what he just said can make a bit more sense, “Okay, so I took a shower, dressed myself, saw my friend, got the coffee. When I list it like that, of course it seems like I did a lot, but overall, those are pretty mundane tasks that won’t have much of an impact on my day besides feeling more-” His speech was cut off by smoke being blown into his face and him coughing, waving a hand in front of himself, “Dude.”
Nathan looked slightly amused, leaning forward towards the coffee table and grabbing his cup. He appreciates how warm it is now, above room temperature but below boiling, “You talk a lot, thanks.”
Warren is flabbergasted at the fact that Nathan-fucking-Prescott just said “thanks” to him, and he’s not entirely sure why he did. Clearly something is wrong here, but instead of delving into that, as it might upset him, Warren responded like any other person would.
“You’re welcome?” He didn’t mean that to come out as a question, feeling a little ashamed for letting that slip out. Although, Nathan reacted in a way Warren wouldn’t have never expected.
“I…” He sighed, “Thats not what I fucking meant to say. Or-its not what you think. Tch, just whatever. I have no patience to analyze my own dialogue right now. Not like I ever did, but that’s besides the point. I value your…strangely accurate attempt at making peace with me.” Nathan took a sip of the coffee given to him and forced away a small smile. It was good, better than making his own.
“Does your good kush taste better when its mixed with caffine?” Warren tries hard to make awkward situations better with stupid jokes like these. Key word, tries. From the way Nathan is looking at him, he seems indifferent. That is until his hand stretched out, offering up his medicine for Warren to try.
“You tell me.”
Skeptical and yet, intrigued, Warren plucked the small object from the blond’s hand and held it in the way he witnessed Nathan doing, between his forefinger and his thumb. New to this, and practically improvising, he brought it to his lips and mimicked Nathan yet again, but instead of blowing, he was coughing.
“My hypothesis was correct. Bad. Very bad.”
What a dork.
Nathan swiped back the blunt and took another hit, doing some silly trick to entertain the other into maybe trying again.
They spent a good 10 minutes trying to entertain each other with smoke clouds, the rest of the dorm starting to wake up around this time of day and turn this peaceful environment into a reckless playpen. It was also the time where Nathan’s corrupted mentality decided to switch into the offensive.
“Oh, in the hallway this morning, your room was pretty loud. Did you have any bad dreams last night? You seemed to be yelling at something.”
That definitely struck a cord with the blond, fingers clenching tighter around the cup, “I don’t know that answer, Gayram. Anything else I can answer for you? Like, how much fucking time I’ve wasted tolerating your ass this morning? Cause I know that one; Too much. Get out.” Nathan stops there, taking a breather and expecting the brunet to up and leave, which he did, coffee and all.
Before his outburst, Nathan was admittedly enjoying himself. He figured that he’ll do the same for Warren to apologize in the next day or two. The last thing he needs is another enemy, gaining a friend is something he would appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it.
Title: Savior - Part Two Fandom: Marvel Word Count: 975 Characters: Warren Worthington III x Reader Reader Gender: Female Warnings: A bit smutty Notes: Part two of this.
“You’re joking.” “What?” “There’s no way that’s your fucking car,” Warren said in disbelief, pointing at the 1970 Chevelle SS in front of him. He eyed the glossy black paint, the two white racing stripes down the middle, the immaculate leather interior – everything, down to the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. “If this is your car, I’m marrying you right now.” “Flatter me all you like, but you’re not driving her,” Y/N stated with a laugh, opening the driver’s door and sliding in with ease. Warren wasn’t so graceful, moving carefully and slowly, as to not damage the car in any way with his wings. “There’s no sexy way for me to have done that,” he muttered, earning another laugh from Y/N. She inserted the key into the ignition and turned, the engine to roaring to life. Led Zeppelin instantly starting playing from the radio, and she peeled out of the garage, probably a bit faster than she should have, but that wasn’t uncommon for her. “I’m pretty sure that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Warren commented after a few moments of silence. Y/N shot him a grin, replying, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” She didn’t miss the way he shifted in his seat, crossing his legs carefully.
Two hours later, they were parked in a drive-in movie theater, having finished the burgers they picked up on the way. Y/N was sitting with her back against the door, her feet resting in Warren’s lap. He was laughing for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, his arms resting on her legs. “I’ve told you more about me than any other person in this world know. It’s your turn now, dammit,” he said, grinning at her after his laughter died down. “What do you want to know, Worthington?” “Hmm…. Were you born here, or in England?” “Here. You know that brunette my father has been following around like a lost puppy?” she asked, and Warren nodded. “The last time they saw each other, he erased her memories. Not long after that, Hank developed a serum that allowed him to walk. The combination of those two events led him to go on a fucking spree, and I’m the result of that.” Warren chuckled, then asked, “And where’s your mom?” He regretted asking once he saw the immediate change in her demeanor. She pulled her legs towards her, wrapping her arms around them. The happiness left her features, and she rested her chin on her knees. “She’s dead; died of cancer when I was twelve,” Y/N replied, then added with a bitter laugh, “Two weeks before my powers developed.” The impact of her words hit Warren like a truck. She was two weeks too late to save her mother, he thought to himself. He couldn’t even imagine what that felt like, nor did he want to. Hesitantly, he took one of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers together. “That really fucking sucks.” Y/N looked up at him, her expression unreadable. She was accustomed to the obligatory “I’m sorry”s that people gave her when they were told of her mother. Warren’s vastly different reaction brought a smile to her lips and she laughed a bit, saying, “Yeah, it does.” They smiled at one another in silence for a few moments, before a sense of seriousness settled over them. Y/N abruptly lurched forward, and Warren didn’t hesitate to cup her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss. It was a sweet kiss at first, in the way that only a first kiss can be – calm and careful, slow and steady. But gradually, it became fiercer than that. Y/N moved so that she was straddling his lap, her arms tight around his neck. Warren’s hands made their way from her face, to her shoulders, down her sides, then came to rest on her hips. His hands eventually drifted to her ass, squeezing gently, resulting in a gasp to fall from her lips. Warren used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips, and they began a fight for dominance. She pressed her chest flush against his, simultaneously grinding her hips down against him. He let out a low groan, gripping her tighter. He began tugging at her T-shirt, desperate for more. Then, very unexpectedly, Warren pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers and breathing heavily. His grip on her loosened, and he remained silent for a few seconds. “I’m gonna kick myself later for stopping that, but…. I like you, and I don’t want this to be some one time thing. I want to go out with you again. I want to do this right; have a couple actual dates before I rip your clothes off,” Warren explained, then added with a breathless laugh and a smirk, “Because, baby, if we keep going, there’s not a damn thing that’ll be able to stop me from doing that.” Y/N smiled, then pressed another soft kiss to his lips, and said, “Okay.” “We should probably go back before I decide against it… and before your dad realizes you’re out with some guy,” Warren said, chuckling. “Well, he’ll have to get used to it, because I’ll be going out with ‘some guy’ again very soon,” Y/N replied with a wink, although she did as he suggested, giving him one final kiss before starting the car and heading home. When they returned, they kissed each other goodnight, and ran to their rooms before Charles could find either of them and make any comments, laughing softly. Once in her room, Y/N sighed happily and leaned against the door, reveling in the fact that she had quite possibly experience the most wonderful night of her life.
SO, @awesome-reading-bitch MENTIONED KURT HAVING SECRET CAT TENDENCIES TO LICK HIMSELF AND THEN LICK WARREN IN HIS SLEEP….
SO HERE WE GO: WHEN WARREN FINDS OUT ABOUT KURTS KITTY HABIT ON ACCIDENT:
(RATED PG13 FOR THE USE OF THE WORD ‘PENIS’)
Kurt hardly ever cleaned himself this way. It was embarrassing for someone that was most certainly NOT a cat, to lick themselves like some animal.
But it was rather hot out that day, and Kurt had woken up late in the morning too exhausted from the heat to get up and shower. He wasn’t that dirty, besides, and he would be late for lunch if he took one anyway.
Warren had woken before him, letting the teleporter sleep in, and was already down stairs with the others. So Kurt sighed to himself, stretched across the mattress, and sat up with a loud yawn and cracking knuckles. He rubbed at his eyes as his mind cleared with sleep, and got into a comfortable sitting position to lift his left leg and stretch it out in the air in front of himself. It hung lazily suspended in the air as Kurt bent forward, and the boy drug his tongue from the bottom of his short shorts up to his knee- getting a feel for the actions that he hadn’t performed in quite a while.
Why did he even have this skill?! Kurt thought it was ridiculous that he had this odd flexibility and slightly rough tongue to be able to lick himself clean, but he decided to let it pass for now. He bent his head down as close to his crotch and inner thigh as possible, and drug his tongue up again, more slowly as his mind was still tired from a long sleep. Kurt moved his dry tongue over his thigh a few times, making sure that the soft fur was damp and clean, before lifting his head a bit and moving up his leg.
He got to work on the area under his knee, angling his leg a bit to reach it better, and his toes spread as he worked on a small, sensitive spot. Kurt finished that part quickly- not bothering with his calves- and his foot relaxed again when he was done.
Kurt then sat up a bit, his back cracking, and quickly shoved his pajama shorts off along with his underwear- his tail throwing them to the floor. His heavy eyes closed as he then bowed his head; pushing his spine to let him bend nearly in half, and ignored the slight pain as he drug his tongue up his top penis in one motion. He repeated the action a few times; his ribs and stomach aching from the slightly difficult position, and moved to the bottom one. Kurt didn’t mind as he moved his arm to hold the two parts in place as he gave them the same treatment as his leg, and was sure to get as much skin as possible- not forgetting the space between his penises and his thighs as well. He used his hand to then push the two members up, and licked down the bottom parts of each just as he had the tops. Kurts leg still hung nearly limp in the air as his face stayed in his croch; his toes curling in every now and then, and Kurt picked up the pace as his mind began to wake up a bit more.
With his eyes closed and his nose buried in his own fur with each drowsy, long lick, Kurt didn’t hear the familiar, heavy foot steps stop at the door. Before the blue boy knew it, the door was open and a happy Warren was chattering away about something apparently exciting as he walked in.
‘”Babe, you gotta get up or you’ll miss-” The angel stopped mid sentence when he saw exactly what Kurt was doing, and the teleporter in return froze- his tongue out and thankfully on his inner thigh as he stared at Warren sideways with wide eyes.
Warrens face fell motionless and shocked as his eyes looked surprised down at Kurt, and his mouth hung open in stopped words as his breath ceased.
“Uh….” He finally managed to spurt out, and Kurt was sitting up with his mouth off of his thigh in a split second.
“Vhat?” His voice shook a bit as his tail wrapped around his now closed legs, and he sat in a tight ball on the bed.
“Whaaaaat, are you doing?” Warrens smile grew suspiciously as he examined Kurt, and the teleporter blushed madly.
“Are you suuuuure that was nothing?” Warren couldn’t stop his giggle as he took a few steps towards Kurt, and the blue boys tail flicked as he avoided the angels eyes; tightening his legs in on himself in the small ball.
Kurt said nothing at that, and Warren paused a moment before giving him a sweet smile and climbing on the bed; wrapping his arms around Kurts smaller body. “Babe, you can tell me! Come on, you can LICK yourself!? That’s fucking awesome! And not to mention hot!” Warren spoke loudly with a small laugh, and Kurt whined at his actions; opening up a bit and bowing his head to lean gently into Warrens chest.
“No it’z not,” He sighed quietly, and Warren giggled again; looking Kurt in the eye.
“What!? Of course it is!” He flashed his teeth in an excited smile, and Kurt pouted. Warren watched him for a moment, his smile relaxing into a comforting look, and then leaned forward to peck his lips. “Can I have a lick?” He asked deeply and quietly against Kurts mouth, and the teleporter giggled.
“Varren! No!” he playfully shoved Warren away an inch, and tightened his tail around his legs.
“Aw, come on!” Warren whined with a laugh, and looked down between Kurts legs.
Kurt saw Warrens eyes move to gaze down at him, and quickly pulled his shirt forward to cover up his two dicks.
“Babe…” Warren finally said in a serious tone, and Kurt avoided his gaze; knowing what was coming. “You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, you know that right?” He spoke softly, and moved to gently pull Kurts chin back to look him in the eye. “I think if you have some hidden talent like this, that’s awesome! You can trust me, you know that… right?” Warrens eyes flashed with worry as his smile faltered, and Kurt finally moved his hand to cup Warrens face.
“Of course, Varren! I just… It’z gross, isn’t it?” Kurt said fearfully, chewing his lips with nervousness, and Warren gave him a reassuring smile.
“Kurt. There are guys out there that would KILL to have that kind of flexibility, you know that right? And if you need to lick yourself like a cat, then that’s totally fine, baby! I think it’s adorable!” Warren giggled in a huffed breath- as if Kurt was crazy not to realize how spectacular he was- and kissed him again, holding Kurts face as he leaned back and pulled them down to lay on the bed. He peppered kisses over Kurts flushed cheeks, and planted some on his lips in hopes to make the boy feel not as bad or ashamed about himself.
“Did you, uh, wanna finish?” Warren asked quietly when he finally pulled away, and gazed down at Kurts bare legs that were now intertwined with Warrens and his tail wrapped around his waist.
“Uh…” Kurt looked unsure as he gazed at Warren, and the angel met his eyes as he answered softly.
“I’ll look away if you want…” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, and Kurt couldn’t help but return the gesture at Warrens sweet cuteness in trying to comfort him. How could Kurt have gotten so lucky like this? The angel looked up at Kurt with loving joy as the blue boy kissed him one last time, and slowly sat up.
“Uh, Ja…” He said shyly in a quiet giggle, and Warren rolled over after giving Kurt a loving look and his hand a gentle squeeze; closing his eyes in a content smile as Kurt lifted his leg and bent forward to finish the job.
Later that night, Kurt and Warren hadn’t mentioned the mornings events and discoveries at all through out the day.
Warren did seem a bit more loving and touchy when he was around Kurt, however, and gave him small smiles and sweet kisses every few seconds. Kurt appreciated the caring gesture, knowing Warren was simply being sure to make Kurt comfortable and feel better.
After the day was over and the sun had set, the two made their way up to their room to retire in for the night as usual. Warren snuggled up to Kurt in bed after they had changed, and the blue boy curled up against the angel; nuzzling his face into Warrens neck as the angel draped his wing over themselves. Warren planted small, tired kisses over Kurts hair and cheeks, and the teleporter felt himself doze off into a thin sleep quickly at the soothing gestures.
Warren was nearly asleep, holding Kurt tightly against his chest as his tiredness grew inside him, when he was awoken by the blue boy lifting his head and suddenly dragging his tongue through Warrens hair- his hands coming up and cupping Warrens cheeks to hold him in place. The angel froze and looked up at Kurt with wide, confused eyes, but saw that his yellow eyes were closed and at peace, as if he was asleep.
So Warren stayed still a moment, before giving in to the oddly satisfying motions of Kurt grooming his hair and the gentle hands on his face. He relaxed into the bed again, still slightly unsure as Kurts rough tongue smoothed back his hair with each lick and left nearly no spit behind, and only grew more tired and relaxed at the odd gesture.
Warren smirked to himself as Kurt went to work lazily ‘cleaning’ Warrens hair, and the angel found himself asleep in seconds, his last words a mumbled “I love you,” whether Kurt could hear him or not.
Celaena: It’s so painful to see the scar in the mirror every morning, and to think that he’s captured Adri. He has a child, Warren. Warren: I know, love. don’t worry about him. Celaena: I can’t stop. It’s just a continuing cycle of seeing everything happen over and over.
Warren cupped Celaena’s face in his hands. His eyes spoke volumes to her, not just about her worrying personality, but about his love towards her. She felt so safe with him…
Is it okay for a total stranger to request nightangel? Not sure how you feel bout angst, but something angsty from the ringfight? OR something fluffy cuz Kurt being completely hung up on kissing for hours is something I think about a lot I:
yes bring on the total strangers !! went with the fluff bc they gotta be happy sometimes
This side depicts a man (the active participant or erastes) engaging in anal sex with a young man (the eromenos, or passive participant), who lowers himself onto the erastes using a rope or support from the ceiling in roughly the modern sexual position of reverse cowgirl. Meanwhile a boy, perhaps a slave, watches surreptitiously from behind a door.
A Roman silver drinking vessel that depicts two sets of male lovers is one of the most prized jewels in the British Museum, singled out by director Neil MacGregor for his critically acclaimed History of the World in 100 Objects.
But on Wednesday, 15 years after the British Museum bought the Warren Cup for £1.8m, a highly respected German archaeologist suggested it could be a forgery.