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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PHIL CONNORS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 020.22.473.65 *** goodweather has joined 020.22.473.65 <goodweather> You have reached the chatroom of Ryslig's favorite weatherman, Phil Connors <goodweather> If you're contacting me for business deals offer me a price first <goodweather> But if you're looking for a more "fun" time, I'm all ears. ;) | ||||
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But... well... he was always a selfish person. He wants to keep doing this for as long as possible, before they have to go separate ways. He lets himself lean against Rev, trying not to smile too fondly
You know I love your cooking, Rev.
[Oh... he admits he doesn't want to get up yet, but...]
Oh, right, I can give you your presents too.
[He lazily gets out of bed and goes to grab two presents from the closet. There is a hesitation before he hands them to Rev, suddenly self conscious as to how he'd react to them.]
Don't hate me if they suck. This is the first time in a decade I've had to buy Christmas presents.
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[He's teasing. He treasures gifts.
He's leans off the bed, scrabbling underneath to reach the gifts he's hidden in the small nest he keeps there for when the pressing urge to be in a confined space becomes too much to ignore. Both of them are very badly wrapped - they're messy and look like claws have punctured the paper in several places, only to be carefully taped over.
That is to say that this is heavily, heavily taped. Both are weighty, though one feels like it's wrapped in cloth over something harder. The other is an oversized box, and feels much more neatly wrapped. There's still too much tape.]
Here. Might... Want to open the boxy one first.
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[He crawls back into bed, sitting close to Rev against his better judgement, and sets his presents on Rev's lap. They're neatly wrapped, one noticeably soft, like some sort of fabric had been wrapped up.]
You can open in any order you want, but you might want to open the softer one first if you don't want to make breakfast with your dick out.
[Not that he wouldn't complain but also being near fire when you're naked sounds like it could easily be a disaster.
He takes the boxy present from Rev and muses over the shoddy wrapping. It takes Phil way too much will power not to laugh at the mental image of him trying to wrap this up with his claws in the way. He decides to quickly open it so he doesn't get too hung up on that thought.]
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[He does. Loudly. Mostly about neatness on the part of Ash in common areas and clients who don't understand that Rev's staff are not there to be submissive to anyone. But he shifts closer to Phil, wanting the warmth that leaches off him as they unwrap things. His gifts are much better wrapped, but in Rev's defence, tape had not been exactly... Familiar.]
And as if everyone living in this apartment is not intimately familiar with my dick. [Completely nonchalant.] But I suppose not splattering myself with hot water while poaching is beneficial.
[The box Phil unwraps is an extremely good quality coffee machine. It's small enough to be easily installed in his office at the radio station, should he decide it's taking up residence there, but good enough for at home. Also included is a bag of the premium coffee beans from the best coffee house on the mile, and a grinder for them.
Reverie does as he's told and starts carefully pulling apart the paper on the soft thing.]
Wanted to make sure you had easy access to your vices. I'm a terrible enabler.
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[He looks at the present and his expression immediately softens. His obsession with coffee wasn't exactly a secret, especially ever since his goblin instincts kicked in, but knowing Rev thought about him like this hit him harder than he expected.
After a moment of staring, he clears his throat.]
Well you know that this is far from my worst vice, but I'm not one to complain about you making me indulge in all of them.
[Inside Rev's first gift is a silk robe. It's long and flowy, with "Reverie" embroidered on the breast pocket in gold thread. It looks like it costs a pretty penny.
Phil doesn't say anything; like he's gauging Rev's reaction before he responds.]
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[The robe's beautiful. Soft. Smooth when he runs it through his fingers. He slips out of the bed so he can put it on, running palms over the smooth planes of it where it sits flat at his hips.]
It's beautiful, Phil. Thank you.
[He slips back to the bed, gently sliding a hand under Phil's chin and pressing a kiss to his cheek. The slow, rumbling involuntary purr has resumed.]