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My Mistress' Eyes

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Coming off their last high had never been more pleasant. Or warmer. Chest to chest, legs intertwined under the covers, the two men exchanged small touches and caresses, sleep already heavy on their eyelids. 

NIck’s hand cradled the muscles of Will’s sweaty and flushed back as the other created intricate patterns on the other’s arm. The equilibrium and calmness of the warm nest was abruptly interrupted by a scratch of the Bard’s nail. Nick looked surprised at the offended skin but his eyes were soon met by another icy blue pair which were lazily resting on his chest. The eyes smiled with mischief. 

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;” Nick rolled his eyes at the hoarse voice vibrating on his chest. Shakespeare slowly rose, shifting his weight on his arms. He lowered himself on Nick’s lips. “Coral - a kiss - is - a kiss - far more red - three kisses - then her lips’ red;” A long stare followed the words. More movements, more friction. Shakespeare’s lips were now on the writer’s chest. He left wet pecks on the warm surface he came across. “If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;” Nick let out a laugh as Will rolled to his side, his chin now resting on Bottom’s shoulder. Silence reigned for a few heartbeats. Will’s fingers crawled up the writer’s neck until they reached his sweaty nape. “If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head”. Nick slapped away the hand, a matching smile was crossing their faces.

Will rolled on his back, his gaze leaving his lover’s body for the first time. “I have seen roses damasked, red and white, but no such roses see I in her cheeks;” This earned Will a push and guttural growl. “ And in some perfumes is there more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.” Nick turned his back to the poet. Shakespeare’s gaze stayed trained on the ceiling, a smile playing on his rosy lips. “I love to hear her speak” A pause. Bottom curiously turned, a smirk was suddenly crossing Will’s face. “yet well I know that music  hath a far more pleasing sound”. A scoff and a giggle accompanied Nick’s movements as he faced the wall once again. “I grant I never saw a goddess go,” Will turned and cupped Nick’s body with his own. “My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.” Nick hid himself under the thin sheets. It didn’t take long for Shakespeare’s arms to find their way around the writer’s waist, his breath grazing the other’s neck. 

And yet by heaven I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare.” Nick let out a huff as Shakespeare bit down lightly on his ear. With a small groan he turned around in Will’s arm, his hair now resting under the Bard’s chin. 

“Petrarch would kill you if he heard this.” He smiled in the warm flesh of the poet’s neck.

“But he’s not here, is he?” Will looked under the covers smiling at their bodies.

Nick yawned, Will smiled.

“Goodnight my mistress.”

“Fuck off Sweet Prince.”

And the rest was silence.