[Ah, that's a whole lot of Polnareff getting up in his business. Not that this stops Kakyoin from playing a very mature game of keep away with the book, far from it; there's something to be said for being suddenly aware of how cold you really are when someone else crashes their own pitiful body heat into you, that's all.
Where are the metaphors about that in this book, huh. Where are they.]
You knew which scene I was reading from just that line?
[Incredible... let him blindly feel around for dog-eared pages, now that he must hold the book so far away. He will find the Good Smut, assuming he doesn't fall over from the effort first.]
There's a lot of— stop using your arms against me— there's a lot of time on the road, Kakyoin!
[Oh my god, no one has ever suffered like he suffers. It's a lost cause, truly; Kakyoin's arms are simply longer, he's not getting it back. Like, he could probably just wrestle him to the ground or whatever, but also, that's effort? And he's not that assed about it. So he just sort of settles there, pressed up against him, his chin sort of resting on Kakyoin's bony shoulder.]
Look, go to one of the later ones, anyway, those are the best ones. Yeah, back there.
[Polnareff leans in a little, squinting at the book. But ah, he's read it so many times he practically knows it by heart. And all right, Kakyoin's ear is right there, so excuse him if he murmurs more than shouts.]
Read that one. One slender leg rose up, sliding along his waist before wrapping tight around his hips. Her milky white thighs, don't start, her thighs were tight around him, gripping him like a vise, the heat of her rutting up against him— c'mon, that's pretty good, right?
[He sure is pushed up close, huh. Kakyoin doesn't complain- well, he mumbles something about Polnareff's hair messing up his hair, but they've been on the road for days and neither of them have perfect hair at the moment, anyway- and anyway, it's only for the sake of saying he's done it. The warmth he doesn't mind at all, as they have still failed to start a fire, and the proximity is...
Well, never mind whatever he was going to think about that, because it goes out the window completely when Polnareff starts reading about thighs and heat and rutting right into his ear. He can feel the low vibration of Polnareff's voice against his shoulder, and that really adds to the, ah, performance.]
I'm still not sure, [he says, and after a moment, as he turns the page once, twice as aloofly as he can with Polnareff basically stuck to him,] How about this part? His hands met the arch of her back as if in prayer— Is this templar erotica?—
[No, focus!! The smut!!!] —as if in prayer, her kiss hot against his throat. Once again she lifted her hips— [fwip, page turn] Oh, I've found the illustration.
[Given its purpose, it's a good illustration. That is to say: its intent is to excite and intrigue, and it definitely does that. Someone had drawn this with the intent of giving everyone an eyeful of bouncing tits and long, lean legs wrapped tight around someone's hips, and on that note, it absolutely succeeds. He's very fond of that picture. His mouth
It's not particularly anatomically accurate, mind, but again: is that the point? It is not.]
So keep reading.
[He shifts a little, settling in more. They are real close together, but honestly, it's fine. It's cold tonight and body heat is absolutely a thing. They're reading porn together, but hey, he'll move if, uh, things start to become a little inconvenient. In the meantime: he huffs out petulantly.]
Come on, you can't just stop in the middle of a sentence. If I wanted to just look at stuff, I'd go back to Kirkwall and hang out by the red light district.
Nobody's stopping you from looking at the other page.
[Judgmental side glance... The words are right there, buddy, the creatively drawn tits will be there even after Polnareff battles through the rest of this metaphor all by himself. Kakyoin holds the book up higher, pointedly, like they are earnestly both reading these words together for their literary merit and not their relative ridiculousness. Behold.
He hums after, which for a second seems like the only answer he's going to give with regards to the templar erotica question, but alright:] Templars wouldn't read a book this long. And they'd include more pictures.
[Ignoring the unfortunate implications of templar erotica if the mage lady remains a mage lady: templars are all meatheads who can't string more than a sentence together at a time, as far as Kakyoin is concerned. Their titty drawings aren't nearly as competent.
Still, and unrelated-sort-of to the smut, he can't help but recall that, oh yeah, they were supposed to be lighting a fire. Polnareff is, like— a living heater, it's almost weird, but there is another issue besides the source of warmth:]
If you can't get a fire going, how am I going to finish this book tonight?
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Where are the metaphors about that in this book, huh. Where are they.]
You knew which scene I was reading from just that line?
[Incredible... let him blindly feel around for dog-eared pages, now that he must hold the book so far away. He will find the Good Smut, assuming he doesn't fall over from the effort first.]
no subject
[Oh my god, no one has ever suffered like he suffers. It's a lost cause, truly; Kakyoin's arms are simply longer, he's not getting it back. Like, he could probably just wrestle him to the ground or whatever, but also, that's effort? And he's not that assed about it. So he just sort of settles there, pressed up against him, his chin sort of resting on Kakyoin's bony shoulder.]
Look, go to one of the later ones, anyway, those are the best ones. Yeah, back there.
[Polnareff leans in a little, squinting at the book. But ah, he's read it so many times he practically knows it by heart. And all right, Kakyoin's ear is right there, so excuse him if he murmurs more than shouts.]
Read that one. One slender leg rose up, sliding along his waist before wrapping tight around his hips. Her milky white thighs, don't start, her thighs were tight around him, gripping him like a vise, the heat of her rutting up against him— c'mon, that's pretty good, right?
no subject
Well, never mind whatever he was going to think about that, because it goes out the window completely when Polnareff starts reading about thighs and heat and rutting right into his ear. He can feel the low vibration of Polnareff's voice against his shoulder, and that really adds to the, ah, performance.]
I'm still not sure, [he says, and after a moment, as he turns the page once, twice as aloofly as he can with Polnareff basically stuck to him,] How about this part? His hands met the arch of her back as if in prayer— Is this templar erotica?—
[No, focus!! The smut!!!] —as if in prayer, her kiss hot against his throat. Once again she lifted her hips— [fwip, page turn] Oh, I've found the illustration.
no subject
It's not particularly anatomically accurate, mind, but again: is that the point? It is not.]
So keep reading.
[He shifts a little, settling in more. They are real close together, but honestly, it's fine. It's cold tonight and body heat is absolutely a thing. They're reading porn together, but hey, he'll move if, uh, things start to become a little inconvenient. In the meantime: he huffs out petulantly.]
Come on, you can't just stop in the middle of a sentence. If I wanted to just look at stuff, I'd go back to Kirkwall and hang out by the red light district.
[. . . actually:]
Wait, have you read templar erotica?
no subject
[Judgmental side glance... The words are right there, buddy, the creatively drawn tits will be there even after Polnareff battles through the rest of this metaphor all by himself. Kakyoin holds the book up higher, pointedly, like they are earnestly both reading these words together for their literary merit and not their relative ridiculousness. Behold.
He hums after, which for a second seems like the only answer he's going to give with regards to the templar erotica question, but alright:] Templars wouldn't read a book this long. And they'd include more pictures.
[Ignoring the unfortunate implications of templar erotica if the mage lady remains a mage lady: templars are all meatheads who can't string more than a sentence together at a time, as far as Kakyoin is concerned. Their titty drawings aren't nearly as competent.
Still, and unrelated-sort-of to the smut, he can't help but recall that, oh yeah, they were supposed to be lighting a fire. Polnareff is, like— a living heater, it's almost weird, but there is another issue besides the source of warmth:]
If you can't get a fire going, how am I going to finish this book tonight?