The (In)Famous Quizzing Glass Porn
Once upon a time, I was IMing with kiffie and, for reasons which are no longer entirely clear to me, I wrote her this.
(It's not actually porn.)
Of course she had noticed it when she first met him, but it was a common enough affectation among the English gentlemen who braved the new, republican Paris to see her perform. A particular type of monocle held at the end of a slender wand as a handle instead of directly on the chain, she thought she'd heard it named a "quizzing glass". Lord Percy's was as charmingly eccentric as the man himself, a quadrangle instead of round, and as he waved it around as though to conduct Chauvelin into following the thread of his conversation, she recognized, as one actor to another, the use of a prop.
She couldn't say why she thought of it that way, and perhaps "accessory" would be a better term, but the thought stuck. He used it, too, to tap Chauvelin on the shoulder when making a jest -- wise to keep that façade of distance, for if he had touched him with his hand, Chauvelin would surely have taken greater umbrage at the presumption.
It was not until their picnic, when he raised it to his eye to comically examine the citizen who had stopped them to question their identities, that Marguerite realized how very much use Lord Percy found in expressing himself with that delicate, clever bit of glass.
After that she was always aware of it. She found he directed many a conversation with it, lazily waving it to prompt someone to speak, eyebrows raised. It extended past the sumptuous lace of his cuffs further than his long fingers, small and quick, making her think of birds. Even when he was not waving it about, he toyed with it near-constantly, playing it between his fingers, dangling it on its chain.
There was an unconscious sensuality at play, and the restlessness reflected in his fiddling belied his lazy demeanor and only served to confirm her suspicion that there was far more beneath the surface. This was only accentuated by the frequency at which the quizzing glass touched Lord Percy's lips. He tapped them with it. He rested it on them when his lips were pursed for a dramatic pause. He rubbed the tender shelf of his lower lip with the edge. He even -- God save her! -- absently put the glass in his mouth and seemed to suckle on it.
As he was doing now.
Across the room, Lord Dewhurst said something with a particularly guileless expression on his face, and Percy smiled, a hint of his teeth against the glass --
"Lady Blakeney, are you quite all right?"
"What?" Marguerite spun to face Lady Stanley, flipping her fan open and fluttering it busily. "-- Sorry! I'm fine, thank you, but I believe I shall take some air." She bobbed her head graciously and fled before her oblivious husband could inspire her imagination any further.
(It's not actually porn.)
Of course she had noticed it when she first met him, but it was a common enough affectation among the English gentlemen who braved the new, republican Paris to see her perform. A particular type of monocle held at the end of a slender wand as a handle instead of directly on the chain, she thought she'd heard it named a "quizzing glass". Lord Percy's was as charmingly eccentric as the man himself, a quadrangle instead of round, and as he waved it around as though to conduct Chauvelin into following the thread of his conversation, she recognized, as one actor to another, the use of a prop.
She couldn't say why she thought of it that way, and perhaps "accessory" would be a better term, but the thought stuck. He used it, too, to tap Chauvelin on the shoulder when making a jest -- wise to keep that façade of distance, for if he had touched him with his hand, Chauvelin would surely have taken greater umbrage at the presumption.
It was not until their picnic, when he raised it to his eye to comically examine the citizen who had stopped them to question their identities, that Marguerite realized how very much use Lord Percy found in expressing himself with that delicate, clever bit of glass.
After that she was always aware of it. She found he directed many a conversation with it, lazily waving it to prompt someone to speak, eyebrows raised. It extended past the sumptuous lace of his cuffs further than his long fingers, small and quick, making her think of birds. Even when he was not waving it about, he toyed with it near-constantly, playing it between his fingers, dangling it on its chain.
There was an unconscious sensuality at play, and the restlessness reflected in his fiddling belied his lazy demeanor and only served to confirm her suspicion that there was far more beneath the surface. This was only accentuated by the frequency at which the quizzing glass touched Lord Percy's lips. He tapped them with it. He rested it on them when his lips were pursed for a dramatic pause. He rubbed the tender shelf of his lower lip with the edge. He even -- God save her! -- absently put the glass in his mouth and seemed to suckle on it.
As he was doing now.
Across the room, Lord Dewhurst said something with a particularly guileless expression on his face, and Percy smiled, a hint of his teeth against the glass --
"Lady Blakeney, are you quite all right?"
"What?" Marguerite spun to face Lady Stanley, flipping her fan open and fluttering it busily. "-- Sorry! I'm fine, thank you, but I believe I shall take some air." She bobbed her head graciously and fled before her oblivious husband could inspire her imagination any further.