second star to the right and straight on till morning

[cynisme]

Who: Grantaire, Bryn & Henry Wotton 
What: After a day of naked beach fun, Grantaire is drunk enough to make this threesome happen.
Verse: Tu Shanshu
Rating: NC-17

The sky is beautiful, but what is beauty to a man with no joy and a dark, rotting pit in his soul?  While after a day like today his joy or lack thereof could be attested, the answer is simply that it is nature, flawed, and every beautiful is only outweighed by everything dark and miserable in the world.  Still the beauty exists, and he would be hard pressed to deny that this had <i>not</i> been a good day, and into a good evening as well.  In the morning he would mourn just how much of his precious alcohol he wasted in one day (two bottles, closing in on a third, and almost all of the flask Henry had given him), but for now the smooth blur of drunkenness is comfortable, homey even.  As they say goodnight to Jehan (he's not sure where Courfeyrac and Alcuin have gone off to at this point, nor does he truly care), he turns on his toes to look at what remains of their party.  There's a train of thought behind his lidded eyes, behind the poke of his tongue from his lips.  A train of thought that ends with a clap to Henry's shoulder before he heads up towards his own suite.  

"Come up for a nightcap, Wotton."  

Comments

[trifurcate]

Bryn has had a lovely day, and not simply because of the relaxing zen sort of effect that being on Tu Vishan has brought about. Even after spending so many hours out to the edge of the turtle's shell, she's spent several more enjoying the sun, the ocean, the breeze, and good company all day. There's been plenty of food to enjoy, plenty of drink, and for the first time in weeks she's felt some of the heaviness lift off of her shoulders.

"A nightcap sounds perfect right about now," she comments with an easy smile, following behind with a few of her things to bring inside. It sounds much better to spend some of the evening with Grantaire and Henry than to make her way back across the city to her own suite.

[epigrammatical]

The invitation is slightly surprising. Grantaire has a way of keeping him amusingly off-balance, which, he's decided, is why he likes the man. But he's in a good mood too; for all that he's spent the day with any number of younger people, he scarcely feels his age, and indeed is walking with something of a spring in his step.

"Bryn is quite right; thank you, I shall."

[cynisme]

Keeping Henry off-balance is a fun little game for Grantaire, as fun as messing with any dear Englishman of his type would be. His attention span is only so strong, though, and his dedication to any cause whose name is not Enjolras can best be described as weak at its very best. Perhaps he'll continue the game later, but he's a man who's decided on a different one this particular evening (should the evening in fact roll out the way he intends, which it very well may not as he's entirely aware).

He saunters vaguely up to his suite as he always does and pushes the door open with his shoulder. Empty bottle goes with the rest of the empty bottles, that sinking feeling that he needs to be responsible biting at his stomach again if only for a moment.

"I've got sand in the worst places. Bryn, the brown bottle if you would be so good, and not too much of it. Christ, I need a quick wash." He punctuates his statement, of course, with a crude scratch.

[trifurcate]

"Of course, by all means take as long as you like," she says with a quick smile. "I'll pour."

And then perhaps she might do the same. She can still feel the slightest irritation of sand in creases that are not easily seen to and a quick rinse would be perfect. Until then, she fetches the brown bottle Grantaire mentions as well as a few clean glasses.

"I think this is probably the best day I've had on this turtle so far," she comments aloud. With the sun, the company, even the moments of minor embarrassment, she'd never felt so relaxed on Tu Vishan as she had during the day.

[epigrammatical]

Henry is oddly delighted by Graintaire's rough edges, the crudeness, the comparative disorder of the suite. He is well aware of the reasons, however; for someone whose existence is so carefully modulated and controlled, chaos comes as a tonic.

He finds a comfortable place to sit, watching the other two with pleasure. Sartorial order has long since been put aside; his shirt is open at the collar and his shirt-sleeves rolled back, and he's trying not to be annoyed at the sand in the hems of his trousers. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Grantaire has a point.

"It has been a completely charming day," he says, "and I am sorry to see it drawing to a close."

[trifurcate]

"Well it isn't over entirely yet," she points out quietly, pouring alcohol into the glasses with ease. Bryn is also dressed casually, her own shirt open at the collar, untucked, and feet bare on the floor. She hands Henry a glass, takes one herself, and then grabs a seat nearby. Lifting her glass, she offers Henry a wide smile.

"To an excellent day among good friends?" she starts, and then with a laugh adds, "And the sand that loved us so well it came back with us?"

[cynisme]

Speaking of that sand, after the water has run for a bit Grantaire pokes his head out of the bathroom and points at Bryn.

"Mademoiselle du petit rire, with me for a moment."

[epigrammatical]

Little laugh? A moment of puzzlement, then: ah. Charmingly insolent as ever, Grantaire, to refer to the lady as a giggler. He says nothing, though; merely raises an eyebrow and smiles. Then a nod to Bryn: as much to say, don't mind me, my dear, go on.

[trifurcate]

Bryn is in the midst of tipping her glass at her lips when Grantaire peeks back into the room. She looks over to see him gesture for her to join him. Quizzically, she almost asks what he called her means, but upon seeing Henry's raised eyebrow and smile, decides she doesn't want to know.

"Of course. I'll be just a moment Henry," she says, rising to her feet and heading into the bathroom to join Grantaire.

[cynisme]

Once she's in the doorway he grabs her arm to pull her in, closing the door behind him with his back. He leans against it, squeezing a wet rag absently, a languid satyr drunk on wine and a damn good day and naked as the day he was born. He can feel what will be a sunburn beginning to blister on his back but pays no mind to it.

"Wash yourself up, ma'amoiselle, while I propose a game. A challenge if you will, or a gift for a day well executed, a pleasant or ridiculous trap for a ridiculous man, or whatever you would call it, it bothers me not. When I first met the snake of an Englishman there, he approached me as if I were a petit jesus, a prostitute for his taking, flirting, talking and paying for, with a smile and a smoke and a drink. Bien sur, I sent the beast back where he came, I know his type, but for now I am gracious and I am content. If he still wants what he did not have the balls to ask for directly before, I may will provide myself for free and to everyone's benefit.

You are welcome to leave, or you can join us. I doubt he will say no, the dog."

[trifurcate]

Bryn hazards a glance behind her once she's pulled into the bathroom, and thinking to take advantage of her time in there she decides to clean up as well. Already she's stripping down to nothing as he makes the suggestion himself. It's simple enough to multitask while he speaks, of course.

Then again, for a moment she's certain she must have heard him wrong, because the phrases "he approached me" and "prostitute" stick out and these are not things she expects to hear from Grantaire regarding Henry. For all their talk of enjoying things as they please, it never occurs to her that Henry might enjoy paying for company. It's guild-sanctioned back home, so it doesn't shock her, but something in the way that Grantaire describes Henry in that light is surprising, to say the least. And the surprise doesn't end, when he continues and divulges his plan to invite the man into bed anyway.

Bryn quietly attempts to absorb all of this new information, the light shed on Grantaire and Henry, which of course explains his drastically different view of the older man, his intentions to sleep with him, and the option to join both of them. It's not the right time to question him about the evening of the proposition, and so all there really is for her to consider is whether or not she'll join them. Considering Grantaire being drunk and happy (well, relatively speaking) and her own curiosity about Henry, it doesn't take very long for her to finally come up with a response.

"If I'd be welcome by both of you then of course I'll stay," she says, brushing hair away from her face as she props her leg up to wipe it down, taking more time perhaps than he has. "Though I have to ask what you have in mind that it would be considered a game or challenge instead of a gift."

[cynisme]

Well the response is positive, and he considers that a good thing. Perhaps a night of just Henry and himself would end up being competitive and wildly unsatisfying, but with Bryn around...this could be quite fun indeed. He waves off her query as if it's nothing, aimlessly picking at his teeth as he waits for her.

"I say game, but I mean more of a teasing folly. If we simply return to the room and begin between ourselves with no introduction, he would have to figure it out all on his own."

Now that would be funny.

[trifurcate]

Bryn laughs at the idea of doing as he says, wondering what Henry's reaction would be, but the possibility of it making him uncomfortable keeps her from going along with it.

"He would, though I think I'd rather there be no room for misunderstanding," Bryn replies, putting one leg down and then wiping down the other with a quick lick of her lips. "Maybe we ought to simply head into the bedroom and invite him to join us before we begin between ourselves. I've teased him quite enough for one day, after all."

[cynisme]

"Perhaps you have, but I have not." He thinks for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek and making no note of the slight stir of his cock from watching Bryn bathe herself.

There's an association there, in his mind, with prostitutes he's seen bathe themselves as he waited, cleaning off other men as Bryn did sand.

"I would rather he be uncomfortable and you would rather he not! D'accord, an agreement. We begin as I stated, with no word to him, and should he turn to leave for the door you are more than welcome to call him back."

[trifurcate]

Finishing up quickly, Bryn turns to face him fully with a tilt of her head and her hip cocked to one side. She lays a hand on it as she considers him.

"Very well, but if we're to do it that way, then we start as I like," she says with a grin. Walking forward, she wraps a hand behind his neck to tug him down as the other reaches for the knob of the door. She pulls it open as she leans up to capture his lower lip in her mouth. Sucking there and tasting both the salt of the sea and the sweetness of wine, she presses her body to his to urge him out of the bathroom and back into the room where Henry waits.