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mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Any, any, honest-to god suitporn. Mild Grell Sutcliffe/Ronald Knox
Nightfall, and Ronald Knox perched on a rooftop near Pall Mall, leaning on the handle of his Death Mower, watching the street below, his gaze roving over the roofs, waiting for his current partner and semi-mentor. No sign of the flamboyant redhead anywhere, and the sun was almost down. Time to get a move on the night's quota of souls, or else Will the slave-driver would be giving them one of his droning lectures on keeping up with the current version of the To-Die list.
A light flashed and he jolted a bit, looking around for the source of the flash. On a gable nearby, he spotted Grell perched, armed with a box camera. "Oh, *please* don't move: you're simply *perfect* in that pose," Grell insisted.
Ronald grinned up at his partner. "You think so? My cuffs aren't pulled out too far? My collar isn't open too much?" he asked, echoing, in a cheekier tone, the kind of things that William T. Spears had told him.
Grell sniggered with delight and hopped down to Ronald's perch. "Oh, *hardly*: you are an utter *delight* to the eye and to the frame of my film as well," his partner replied. "You are a lovely as a picture postcard of a lady in fine clothes."
"Don't you mean a picture postcard of a lady in her unmentionables?" Ronald asked, smirking.
Grell giggled. "Hardly: a person's body can be more *delightful* if it is still veiled and its mysteries cleverly hidden. It makes one wish to *remove* those garments and discover them."
"That seems a little upside-down," Ronald noted.
Grell grinning and moved in closer, close enough to nuzzle the side of William's head. "Hardly: the best sensual organ is to be found between a person's ears and above their eyebrows."
Nightfall, and Ronald Knox perched on a rooftop near Pall Mall, leaning on the handle of his Death Mower, watching the street below, his gaze roving over the roofs, waiting for his current partner and semi-mentor. No sign of the flamboyant redhead anywhere, and the sun was almost down. Time to get a move on the night's quota of souls, or else Will the slave-driver would be giving them one of his droning lectures on keeping up with the current version of the To-Die list.
A light flashed and he jolted a bit, looking around for the source of the flash. On a gable nearby, he spotted Grell perched, armed with a box camera. "Oh, *please* don't move: you're simply *perfect* in that pose," Grell insisted.
Ronald grinned up at his partner. "You think so? My cuffs aren't pulled out too far? My collar isn't open too much?" he asked, echoing, in a cheekier tone, the kind of things that William T. Spears had told him.
Grell sniggered with delight and hopped down to Ronald's perch. "Oh, *hardly*: you are an utter *delight* to the eye and to the frame of my film as well," his partner replied. "You are a lovely as a picture postcard of a lady in fine clothes."
"Don't you mean a picture postcard of a lady in her unmentionables?" Ronald asked, smirking.
Grell giggled. "Hardly: a person's body can be more *delightful* if it is still veiled and its mysteries cleverly hidden. It makes one wish to *remove* those garments and discover them."
"That seems a little upside-down," Ronald noted.
Grell grinning and moved in closer, close enough to nuzzle the side of William's head. "Hardly: the best sensual organ is to be found between a person's ears and above their eyebrows."
