(Untitled)

[dingdongdoodily]

 Pickles brought Axl into the room and was relieved to find a terrarium already there , taking up half a wall on the far end, complete with food and water bowls, heat rock, heat lamp, and hidey-logs,  and a less dark colorscheme in the room itself. There was a drumkit off to one side of the desk, which he'd tidied up and set his Elder-Self's papers

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[dingdongdoodily]

He smiled, "I hope you don't mind the bottles that clutter up corners, newspapers that end up everywhere, and the occasional pizza box."

Hey, a hand under his shirt!
That's cool!

He arched his chest forward and gave Miniver a more lasting, lingering kiss this time, his own fingers finding their way beneath Miniver's shirt.

That fear and apprehension just melted away. This would work out well.

[cheevy]

The bottles would likely end up becoming inkpots or flower vases -- hippie, remember? -- the newspapers would possibly end up nest lining for the bird, and the pizza boxes... Well, they'd get to that. Eventually. Maybe.

A bit busy just now.

Miniver runs fingernails over Pickles' chest -- not hard, but... enough.

[dingdongdoodily]

There are three things that this rock star would never turn down. Booze, Drugs and Sex.

He grinned, perhaps a bit impish, before nipping Miniver's jawline, leaving a hot trail down the hippie's neck with his tongue, before nibbling at the lobe of his ear.
He whispered, a bit breathy, "I like the way you think."

[cheevy]

"Think?" His head rolls to one side as Pickles nibbles his ear, breath catching softly in his throat. "No, the idea is to not think. Mmm, do that again."

[dingdongdoodily]

"That's what I mean." Pickles purred with a lopsided smile, continuing to nibble on Miniver's ear, his hand up the poet's shirt tracing each curve and line on the other man's chest, soaking in that delicous skin-on-skin contact.

It would occur to him that the chair was a bit precarious for a place to do anything in a while, but he was too lust-drunk at the moment.