“Well, well, why are you so flushed? Is it the fever got on you?” Tealina remarked, grinning. The young elf ate alone today; Celtiel went to the capital to attend the council.
“Ahhh...” A heavy sigh was all he managed.
“What are you sighing about? What’s tormenting you, sweetie pie?” The cook asked sympathetically, distracted from cooking and sitting down opposite Arnel.
“Do I really look like a child?” Arnel breathed resignedly. “I’m going on one hundred and thirty-two!” Tealina chuckled slyly.
“Little cute bunny, I’m four hundred and ten,” the cook shocked the elf, laughing frankly, and then just killed him outright. “And the master is two hundred and eighty.”
Arnel banged his head on the table.
“He will never take me seriously.” He whispered, fighting the tears.
“You silly one, don’t you understand? If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have touched you at all! Not to mention all those canvases crowded in his studio with images of all kinds of your sweet facial expressions.”
“You think so?” The elf looked at her with hope.
“I’m sure of it,” Tealina ruffled his curls with a warm smile.
“Then what can I do to ...” he blushed again so that his ears seemed to be about to smoke.
“Do what, Arnel? What haunts you?” Tealina asked.
“How can I seduce him?” He blurted out, not expecting such courage from himself.
“Oh, that’s what it is?” Tealina chuckled knowingly. “Already got tired that the gentleman is only teasing?” and continued with a wink, “Just get undressed.”
“Un-undress?” Arnel raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Why yes! You have little to zero experience in petting and smooching, and lack courage and slyness for lecherous talking. Therefore, while he’s out, prepare the bed; decorate the room, and whatnot. And then, just take off your clothes and wait for him. And mentally prepare yourself for his reaction,” the elf said, playing her eyebrows.
And Arnel left to prepare. He firmly decided for himself to go to the end with Cetliel today. If only Tealina’s plan worked; he indeed was tired of waiting for his master and loved one to run out of patience. The elf collected various flowers in large pots from the garden. Opening the windows wide, he summoned a couple of bindweed into the room, wrapping them around the head of the bed and the wall. On a round table, he put a bottle of aromatic wine, a dish with vegetables and fruits, then rushed to Tealina for bread, rolls, and jam. She praised the activity and promised not to feed the gentleman upon arrival, but to send him to his rooms.
Arnel thought for a long time about how he should meet his beloved. He considered it too vulgar to sit and wait for him all naked. And by the way, it’s a bit chilly today, or maybe it's just tremors of excitement and anticipation. Deciding to keep a loose nightgown that barely covered what was worth covering, the elf climbed onto the bed with a book and began to wait.
Celtiel was tired as a hound and hungry as a wolf. It’s been a while since he had left the estate for the whole day, and such a tedious one! Outrageous nonsense gathering a full council of war in peacetime! They could have gathered ourselves, as usual, and then sent a representative to the estate.
“Greetings, sir! You’re late today,” Tealina smiled warmly.
“Good evening. Those pollocks can talk anyone to death,” complained Caro. “I want to eat so bad, but first I will go wash this day off.”
“Nice idea! Go take a steam bath, sir! And the supper, by the way, is waiting for you in the bedroom,” the cook winked to him.
Celtiel cocked his eyebrow and then chuckled, realizing that Arnel probably has something to do with this. In the bathroom, he quickly undressed, heated the water with one wave of his hand, and plunged into his native element up to his chin. Having received his twenty minutes of blissful water relaxation, the blue-haired elf got out, dipped himself in a soft towel, put on a robe, and felt the bedroom.
Braking on the threshold, he began desperately rubbing his eyes to chase away the hallucination. Otherwise, what was revealed to his gaze could not be named. The whole room was filled with greenery. Everywhere there were baskets with fragrant petunias, daisies, hyacinths, a bindweed wrapped around the bed, and the light of the setting sun softly permeating the hedge, which made it seem that even the sun was green today. Across the bed, and this part of the interior surpassed all the gifts of Nature in beauty, Arnel lay on his stomach. His hair scattered across the bed in a light green halo, one arm dangling from the bed in pursuit of a book that had slipped out. He was dressed only in a white shirt that barely covered ... although no, it opened a charming view of the soft and rounded buttocks and slender legs. Celtiel swallowed hard.
What’s going on here? Why is he…? And where is my dinner? The hell with the dinner! Arnel sleeps naked on my bed! Lord, what to do? Why is he like that? Should I leave? Nah... I’m not an idiot!
Celtiel approached the bed cautiously. Yes, his little angel really slept, sniffing sweetly and frowning. The blue-haired man sat down neatly closer to him and lightly stroked his ankle with his palm. Not detecting changes in behavior, he moved higher, bypassing the sensitive knee, and higher along the velvet thigh. And again he got so carried away that he missed the moment of Arnel’s awakening, who, breathing quickly, watched the manipulation of the Water mage from under the lowered eyelashes, but could not hold back a convulsive breath when a warm palm covered his buttock.
“Woke up already?” Celtiel inquired slyly, sparkles flashing in his eyes.
“Y-yes, w-welcome back,” Arnel muttered, sitting up, trying to pull down his gown. Caro did not take his hand away and continued to stroke his thigh, slowly climbing higher and having enjoyed himself immensely.
“Why did you fall asleep so carelessly? With the windows wide open and these clothes ... wide open as well ... Aren’t you afraid that someone will take advantage of you?”
“I’ll let them!” Arnel exclaimed suddenly. “That is you, Ce-Celtiel. Take advantage of me… I want this… I want you too,” the elf replied quietly, coloring so charmingly with Celtiel’s palm more and more persistently slid along the inner side of the thigh and the white cloth.