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RP Summary.

Sigurd and Efram have been together for many months and have enjoyed themselves. Individually, they still have their troubles to deal with. After a particularly crumby few days, Efram visits Sigurd to lighten his mood a bit.

Initial Setting:

Square district, Sigurd's house, late afternoon.

Timeline:

Springtime, some months after Sigurd decided to close Swan Song for a while.



Edit

Efram: Just hold still and let me hug you forever

Sigurd: ...????

Efram: ... I just thought you needed one, or something.

Sigurd: ...I only just got up from a nap. *He scratches his forehead a little*

Efram: *He lets the hug linger a moment longer before letting his arms slide off from around Sigurd's middle.* I just let myself in. Sorry if that woke you up.

Sigurd: It's okay. *He smiled. The pianist was only wearing sweat pants, his hair a slight mess* Are you hungry?

Efram: Eh... *His head bobs side to side, considering his current status.* I guess I could eat something. *The mafioso tugged the lapels of his jacket but didn't bother to fuss with his frumpy hair. He looked exhausted with... maybe worry.*

Sigurd: Have a seat, please. *He walks gingerly into the kitchen and turns on the stove, grabbing a small pot of soup to put on the stove top* Nero: *He barks and walks over to the mafioso, sniffing at his pants*

Efram: Thanks. *With a heavy sigh he plopped down on the couch and let Nero sniff him a moment before he extended his open hand for the dog to have a smell and decide if he was allowed to pet or not.* Hey pup...

Sigurd: Why the long face, handsome? *He grabbed down some bowls and smiles* Nero: *The pup yaps and runs in excited circles before sitting down to let Efram pet him*

Efram: *Seeing Nero's spunky attitude made him smile, but the contrast made him feel more tired. He gave the dog some strokes and scratches behind the ears.* Worn out, haven't been sleeping too good. *There was a sort of reluctance to his short response.*

Sigurd: Stay the night here, Efram. *He tucked some hair behind his ear. Leaving the stew to warm up, he walked out to the mafioso* Come on, off with all the fancy stuff, Efram. Nero: *His tail wags and when his master appears, the pup runs over to him*

Efram: *He raises his head when Sigurd appears from the kitchen and blinks at him.* Fancy stuff... my clothes? *His lip quirks into a joking grin.*

Sigurd: Yes. Off with the shoes and off with the jacket. You're supposed to be comfy at home, silly. *He picks up Nero* Come on, boy. No more running around. *He walked to a room set up for Nero, setting him down and setting up the gate*

Efram: Oh. *He was taken back a little that his joke turned out to be correct. First his jacket came off, then slipped the left and then right shoe off. The watch was taking a bit of focus to finally remove, so he kept his eyes trained on it* Your dog has so much energy. Don't you walk him?

Sigurd: I have. He is just young and energetic is all, Efram. Ah! *The pot lid rattles and he runs off to the kitchen to turn off the stove, grabbing a ladle to scoop out two bowls of stew. Come on, Efram!

Efram: I'm coming. *He grunts when the latch failed to come undone after another try* Damn thing... *At last it released and he dropped it onto the coffee table on his way to the kitchen* Smells good, what did you make?

Sigurd: It's called Birnen, Bohnen und Speck. *He sets the bowls down at the coffee table, spoon included. He chuckled, proud that he still speaks German just fine* It's mainly pears, beans, and bacon.

Efram: Hm. I'll try it. *The combination certainly sounded peculiar, but, knowing Sigurd's tastes, probably surprisingly good. He stands between the kitchen and livingroom, watching Sigurd bring the bowls.* Anything else needed?

Sigurd: Nope. *The pianist took a seat and then starts to eat* Mmmm....Not too bad. *He laughed, tying his hair up*

Efram: *He takes his seat by Sigurd at the coffee table, turning the contents of the bowl around with his spoon a few times before the first test bite* Hmm... hmm... mm. *Definitely not entirely bad!*

Sigurd: Well? *He paused to look at Efram, the spoon setting back down into the bowl* Is it..terrible?

Efram: M-m. *He shakes his head to answer since his mouth was still full.* No, it's pretty good. Sweet and savory.

Sigurd: Much like you. *Chuckling, he returns to eating* Mmmm...what have you been up to, Efram?

Efram: Heh... Hmm... *He ate some more to stall before havin to answer.* Not much... *Another bite, more stalling.* .... Laron is worrying me.

Sigurd: The fancy man with the monocle? *He finishes his stew and leans against Efram*

Efram: Mhm. *The mafioso takes his time eating the rest of his bowl, eyes down.* He usually answers the door if it's me, but... not in the last while.

Sigurd: I see...it's hard to say what could've happened to him, Efram. Finish your food and I will...make you feel better.

Efram: *He nods and lifts up the bowl of stew to scrape the rest into his mouth* Pah... there.

Sigurd: Thank you. *Smiling, he takes the bowls and takes them to the kitchen sink, soaking them. He returns quickly by Efram's side, leaning on him*

Efram: Hmmm. Thanks for the meal, Sig. *Now with a full stomach and a little venting, his smile came more easily.*

Sigurd: You're welcome. *His hand gently reaches up to twirl in the mafioso's hair* Mmmm...

Efram: So how're you gonna make me feel better, huh? *He shifts to face Sigurd more, lips pursed into a challenging smirk.*

Sigurd: Come with me and I will show you. *He stands and takes Efram's hand, pulling him up. The pianist leads them off to his music room, going inside. the room was relatively plain, save for a fancy white piano, recognizable as the one from the Swan Song, a smaller black piano, and a harp*

Efram: *He loosened another couple buttons of his shirt while he followed Sigurd to the instrument room. The white piano he knew he saw somewhere else before.* Is this where you keep your instruments and practice? *He spotted a spare stool and took a seat*

Sigurd: Precisely. *In the corner was a white guitar that looked practically untouched. His eyes stare at it for a moment then he inhales deeply, going to the piano to sit* You're in for a treat, Efram..

Efram: *His gaze locks on Sigurd. Somehow he felt like some vibe was going to be involved. He wasn't too familiar with the full extent of Sigurd's vibe. Maybe there's something he would learn.* I'm all ears.

Sigurd: *His eyes close and gently, his fingers begin to dance on the

Efram: *While he listened, he settled on the stool a bit more. The notes were expertly played, it was apparent to him that Sigurd practiced very seriously and often. It wasn't too long before his eyelids began to droop ever so slightly.*

Sigurd: *His fingers continued to play and his mouth opens, softly singing. This really was a special treat for the mafioso, a private show* Harsh words were said and lies were told instead. I didn' ever mean to make you cry...But love can make use weak and make us strong and before too very long, I was totally in love with you~ I bathed in you..lost in you, captivated by you. Amazed by you, dazed by you...nothing can go wrong....nothing can go wrong..

Efram: *He sat silently, enthralled with the man's voice and piano playing. Even the lyrics resonated to his very core. His chest swelled with warmth, reflecting his gaze toward Sigurd.*

Sigurd: *He continued to sing like a bird, his fingers playing on their own. Nearing the end, his fnigers move slower, the keys being player softer*

Efram: *By the time Sigurd was on the last line of notes, he couldn't help it, he was trembling. His dark eyes glistened with what may be tears. The beauty of the last few minutes was just so overwhelming.* Sigurd...

Sigurd: *His hands pull away and he stares down at the keys, his hands clenched up into fists* ...

Efram: .... *He paused a moment, gathering up his voice.* That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. ... Are you okay?

Sigurd: Thank you, Efram. *He wipes his eyes with the back of his arm* I'm fine...just remembering things.

Sigurd: Yeah... *He rose from the stool slowly and took soft steps around the piano to Sigurd's side.* You wanna... *Hesitation stopped his sentence a moment.* ... talk about it?

Sigurd: *He took a breath* It reminds of the one before you. He loved to listen to me play too..that guitar on the corner, I bought it for his birthday...shortly before I forced an end to the relationship. Do you play the guitar, Efram? It's beautiful and untouched...and I do not play. I don't want it to go to waste.

Efram: *he shakes his head slightly, reluctantly.* No... sadly not. Not yet anyway. *His red gloved hand set on Sigurd's shoulder, brushing some of locks of hair over his back.* I'd be happy to try and learn.

Sigurd: I will help teach you. *He smiles and stands up, hugging Efram* My sources tell me he works now within the Square district...in a bakery.

Efram: I can find him. *He embraces the pianist warmly, tenderly even.* I can ruin him. How'd you like to see that, huh? *While he chuckled, he realized he never really brought up what he does for the mafia.*

Sigurd: Don't go out of your way for me, Efram.. *His nose presses into the mafioso's shirt, inhaling the cologne*

Efram: Heh.... say the word when you feel like it. *He continued to hold the dark haired man in his arms, absorbing the sensation of his warmth, his weight, his scent... Efram grew quiet again.* Sig, I... I appreciate you.

Sigurd: I appreciate you too.. *He pulled back and then leaned in, head slightly tilted* I appreciate you more than most things these days. *His supple lips press against Efram's*

Efram: Same... *That one word was all he could mumble against Sigurd's lip's before he cinched the kiss tighter together.* Mmh..


~The Next Morning~ Sigurd: Wakey wakey, Efram~ *He sat down on the edge of the bed after opening the blinds slightly. He was, once again, only in sweat pants, his hair combed through, and glasses on*

Nero: *His leg kicks a little but continues snoozing*

Efram: *He utters a snuffling grunt, the weight of Sigurd on the bed and his voice disturbed the sleeping mafioso.* Rhmph...

Sigurd: *He gently picks up Nero, setting the pup on a doggy bed at the foot of the bed on the ground* Efram~ *He crawls on to the bed, leaning over the other man*

Efram: Mmhrnn... Mmawake... *Now the removal of the fluffy hot thing on his chest really started to roust him. Like a dozing bear, he slowly came-to. He opened his blurry, dark eyes to see Sigurd looming above.* Mmm... morning...

Sigurd: Wake up, sleepy head. *He leaned down closer, the scent of his flower-based cologne wafting past the mafioso*

Efram: Hrmhrmm... M'gettin' there... rmph... whatime izzit... *His words trailed off into a wide yawn while he stirred beneath the covers and attempted to wake his sleep-rusted limbs.*

Sigurd: Eleven in the morning. *His hand gently runs along Efram's body, chuckling* It's a little late. Lunch is downstairs waiting.

Efram: Oh... hmmmmnn... Nhr...! *He stretches his arms out, rolling his wrists and slowly opening and closing his fists. Those dark pools for eyes now fully opened up at Sigurd and a smile spread on his face.* Good morning, handsome. Thanks for letting me sleep in a bit there.

Sigurd: Of course. You must be awfully tired..get ready, love. I'll be downstairs, okay? *Leaning back, he got up and starts to walk out of the room*

Efram: M'kay. *He turned his head to watch the pianist leave while he continued to lay in bed a while longer. Eventually he swung his legs down and grabbed some pants from the floor. Maybe they were his, maybe Sigurd's, he didn't care just yet, not so soon before coffee. The groggy man gingerly found his way downstairs to the kitchen probably by following the scent of the food.* Mmmmm...

Sigurd: *He poured a mug of coffee for Efram, setting it on the coffee table. Next to it was a plate of bacon and english muffins, as well as some sausages* Here you are.

Efram: Thanks. *The coffee was his primary objective. He took a moment to savour the aroma before drinking deeply. Piping hot, strong, straight black. A lopsided smile crept up his cheeks. That man...* How long have you been awake?

Sigurd: Oh, since nine. I already ate so feel free to dig in, Efram. *He picked up a newspaper, crossing his leg gently to look through it*

Efram: Oh. Thanks again. *He exchanged the mug for the fork and started in on the sausages. Quietly, the man ate, occasionally glancing around the room with a sort of dreamlike gaze. Somehow he couldn't believe he was here and not only in a dream.*

Sigurd: Hmhmmmmm.. *He chuckles, reading away. The newspaper was old but perhaps he hadn't had a chance to read it yet.*

Efram: *The usual late morning noises had already begun, but this morning was more serene, easier to manage. Efram brushed some of his mussed hair from his face while he was bent down over the plate of food but didn't bother to properly fix the issue. That could wait. Behind the wiry curtain of bangs, he peeked at the reading man and chewed.*

Sigurd: *He puts the paper down and stands up* You didn't eevn wash your face, did you? *Chuckling he picked up a paper towel and gently wets it, moving over to softly wash Efram's face*

Efram: I didn't want my breakfast to get cold. *He fussed initially, but let Sigurd wipe at his face in the end. Letting someone take care of him in this close, almost domestic way was still foreign to him. It was... nice, however.*

Sigurd: Ahaha..it was already cold from you sleeping in, silly. I had to reheat it.*He pulled a comb off the coffee table, gently combing the mafioso's hair back and out of his face*

Efram: Oh, hah. *He snagged a drink of coffee in between runs of the comb.* Do you have plans today?

Sigurd: I never do anymore since I closed the club. Something on your mind?

Efram: *He spoke from behind the mug while he took another sip, a smaller one since he was nearing the end of the mug.* Just wondering.

Sigurd: Ig you would like to do anything, I will be around, is all I am saying. *He took a sip from his mug, choking just slightly*

Efram: Easy... you okay? *He watched Sigurd closely, ready to leap into action if needed.*

Sigurd: *The mug is set down and he wipes his mouth, nodding* Yes..just too deep in thought sometimes.

Efram: *His head bobs a few times, knowing the feel.* Be careful. *The mafioso returned to the food and quickly shoveled the rest into his mouth before he stood to take the crumb-sprinkled plate to the kitchen.*

Sigurd: I have something for you...I don't know if you'd like it but regardless...I want you to have it. Come. *He walks quietly back to his bedroom*

Efram: Coming. *A gift? Surely Sigurd was being too kind. He left the plate at the bottom of the sink, too distracted to bother giving it any further attention. Quickly he met Sigurd back up in the bedroom, curiosity burning.*

Sigurd: Hmhmmm... *He hums happily and opens a drawer, taking out a fancy box. Sitting down on his bed, he waits for Efram to take a seat too*

Efram: *The happy hum put him somewhat more at ease, at least took the edge off. He sat beside Sigurd on the bed close enough their knees brushed.* ....?

Sigurd: I hope you'll accept it, Efram...but I am well prepared for you to scold me. *His hand daintly removes the lid to reveal a pair of pristine white gloves*

Efram: *Disbelief washed over him, quickly followed by confusion. His throat tightened, constricting any words and goosebumps prickled his skin. Frozen, he stared at the clean, crisp gloves in the box.* ........

Sigurd: It's okay to say that you hate it and don't want it. *He puts the box on Efram's lap though, leaving it without the lid*

Efram: No. *His voice finally came out, nearly cracking. He stared at the gloves as if they were alien, as if he would burst into flame if he touched them. His adam's apple bobbed as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.* ... Sigurd, they're beautiful. Are you sure they're for me...?

Sigurd: Of course they are. *He leaned against Efram, chuckling* They even have your initials on the inside so someone can't just steal them....they ah..they also match mine.

Efram: Oh Sigurd... *He whispered the other man's name, voice trembling. Gingerly he set the box down on the bed between them as he stared at his gloved hands. With shaky movements like he was being controlled by an invisible force, he began to peel off the worn red leather from his palms. Still, he could not bear to look at Sigurd.*

Sigurd: Why do you shake so much, my love? *His hands move over to find Efram's, gently holding them. His vibe slowly activates in the hopes of calming down the nervous mafioso*

Efram: ... You don't understand what this means to me... yet. *He paused the removal to squeeze Sigurd's hands.* ... I have sins, ghosts, things I shouldn't forget I have done. These gloves I wear... they're this color for a reason. *Sigurd's vibe did help his nerves just a bit, enough to help him find the courage to continue explaining himself.*

Sigurd: What is done in the past is in the past, Efram...they shouldn't haunt you forever. *He took Efram's hand and touches the scars on his face with it then gently moves to the scars on his chest, not saying another word*

Efram: *He silently let Sigurd guide his hand along the scars, mouth drawn in a tight line. A shaky sigh blew out his nostrils.* It... It's complicated. I've done so many awful things, things you probably don't want to imagine me doing but things I still haven't forgotten.

Sigurd: *He leans on Efram, whispering softly* Like killing someone? ..I've killed before but it doesn't mean I can't move on, Efram.

Efram: .... *The mafioso sat wordless, head slowly bending down. The Vibe coming off Sigurd finally began to make more of a difference on his nerves.* You keep saying things I wish someone told me years and years ago. *His words were a soft murmur as he squeezed Sigurd's hand in his own once more and then withdrew it to resume removing his gloves.*

Sigurd: I don't know how you were raised, Efram....but I can say for myself that I was not not raised in..an ideal environment. *He leaned in to gently kiss the mafioso as he took the gloves off*

Efram: *He bent his head slightly against Sigurd's lips, allowing the man to kiss him. The gloves slipped off, exposed for the first time in the pianist's presence. He left his hands palms down on his thighs. Around the edges of his hands, pale, blotchy scarring crept up.* .......

Sigurd: *His hands reach over to hold on to Efram's* Don't be afraid...it's okay. I am not judging you, Efram. *His vibe starts to turn one notch up in strength*

Efram: *The normal stubbornness and resilient protectiveness had decreased drastically. Sigurd's skin on his own felt hot, burning. It had been so long since someone touched his bare hands. At last he turned them over, showing the bold and contrasting scars all over. They appeared to be some kind of burn, but on his left hand some stitches could be seen on the first two fingers and palm.* ..... These... These are from the war.

Sigurd: *He says nothing as his hands bring up Efram's, his lips gently kissing the scars all over. His kisses were soft and sweet but more importantly, supporting and unjudgemental* ..

Efram: *A gasp nearly escapes him upon feeling the kisses. He stared at the other man wordless, startled by the tender expression. A lump solidified in his throat as his face grew hot.*

Sigurd: We all have scars, Efram... *He leaned back gently. The scars on his wrists looked rough and deep*

Efram: *He glanced down at their hands together, noticing the slashes on Sigurd's wrists. He wondered how recent those were, how painful, how long it took to heal. Both physically and spiritually.* Sigurd... You'd... You're so... *words were hard to find. He shook his head to dismiss his attempts and pressed his forehead against Sigurd's gently.

Sigurd: *The palm of his hands gently caress Efram's cheek* What is it, Efram? What is it that you want to say...? It's okay to tell me.

Efram: *He remained quiet while he gathered his thoughts before speaking in a whisper.* ... I wish I met you a long time ago, but I probably would have hurt you so, so badly. You're just... you're what I've been looking for... what I think I might be ready to... accept. *Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over his cheeks.*

Sigurd: Things would've changed dramatically if I met you before...before now. *His thumbs gently push the tears aside* Don't cry, Efram...I don't like seeing you spill those precious tears.

Efram: Mmm... *He hummed in understanding while he slowly raised his hands to place over Sigurd's. He sat there quietly, absorbing the sensation of the other man's skin under his bare fingers. How soft it was, how strange and warm. So far only a few people were ever this tender with him, and he with them. A few more droplets fell before he was able to cull the tears.* Mhn...

Sigurd: It's okay, Efram...we are all broken but we can all be fixed. *He hugs Efram, smiling* I don't want you to think you can never be fixed.

Efram: It... That really means a lot, Sig... So much. *He embraced the other man tightly, burying his face in the nook of his neck.*

Sigurd: It's all okay, Efram...we can be torn down but we can stand back up. *Smiling, he rubs Efram's back*

Efram: *He gave a little nod, though it probably felt more like a nuzzle.* Thank you... *He stayed with his cheek pressed on Sigurd's collarbone a moment, just enjoying the warm feelings and the lingering effects of Sigurd's Vibe.* ... I don't want to get the gloves dirty, they're so nice.

Sigurd: It's okay if they get dirty, Efram...all you do is just clean them off. *He chuckled* If people can start over new, gloves can too! *Laughing, the pianist hugs more*

Efram: Aw... Heh... Yeah, that's a good point. I'll still take good care of them... people need care too. *The mafioso leaned back, a smile across his lips now and ease in his expression. His fingertips had started to get addicted to the textures of Sigurd's back, and began to roam.* You know... I really care about you.

Sigurd: I know you do. *He eases back to lay on the bed, looking up at Efram* If you didn't, I'm not sure you would've opened up to me.

Efram: No way... *He agreed with the assessment, gingerly lifting the pure white gloves from the fancy box beside him. He looked them over before he began to slip them on.* You earned it, though.

Sigurd: Ahaha...*He smiles* I'm just a soul that sees bits of his old self in you...and it was a dark time, I admit.

Efram: Same here... especially when I saw you again that night, outside the club. *He closed his fist, listening to the new leather squeak. They fit perfectly.* You want a smoke?

Sigurd: Hm? No..I'm fine. I've been cutting it down to smoking only when I am really stressed out. *He laid there with a chuckle* I was scared of you at first, during that one meeting...

Efram: Heh... *He grabbed his etched metal case off the nightstand and lit up one.* That same night, or you mean the first time when I burst in to your office wasted?

Sigurd: The first time. That was technically assault. *His long, nimble fingers through through dark strands*

Efram: Yeah... *He stayed quiet a moment, sucking in a long drag through the filter.* .. I don't remember too much of what happened, truthfully.

Sigurd: Drunk off your ass, I know...you made me take out my gun. A long time since I had to do that. *Turning on to his side, he stares at the wall*

Efram: ... *Silence settled back over the mafioso while he smoked. All that talk of forgiveness and moving on seemed like it was washing away. He bounced his knee out of nervousness but didn't know what to say.*

Sigurd: I don't blame you. *He chuckled, sitting up, bringing his knees towards his chest* I've done some crazy drunk things before too. *Leaning over, the pianist plucks the cigarette away, taking a puff*

Efram: *He chuckled and shook his head a little while he reclined back on the bed.* Yeah... Crazy shit, man. Hey wait, does this mean you're stressed out right now? You had some of my cig. Hehe~ *He smirked and propped up on his elbow.*

Sigurd: Oh, you just made it look so good..I still think the flavoured stuff is much better. *He hands the cigarette back, smoothing his hair*

Efram: What's your favorite, again? *He placed the cigarette between his lips and lightly nibbled on the filter.*

Sigurd: I like vanilla. *Grinning, he leans over and plucks the cigarette away again but instead of taking a drag of it, the pianist kisses the mafioso*

Efram: Mm... *He smiles into the kiss, taken slightly off guard by the suddenness.* Heheh~ *His white-gloved hand pushed up into the dark locks of hair, combing through.*

Sigurd: *Pulling back, he laughs* Sorry..looks like I just wasted your cigarette. *Reaching over to the ash tray on the nightstand, he snubs out the filter*

Efram: Hmmm... So how are you gonna pay me back, huh? *He flashed a toothy grin at the pianist and quirked an eyebrow.*

Sigurd: You tell me. *He lays back down, splaying out on the bed a little, stretching* Hmmm!

Efram: Hmhm... let me think. *His gloved hand reached out, gliding up from Sigurd's elbow to his shoulder lightly. The contrast wasn't so stark on Sigurd's skin as his old habit gloves, these much more subtle against the pale skin.*

Sigurd: Think away. *He smiled softly, eyes half-lidded* What's on your mind, hm?

Efram: Hmmm... how about another of these? *He leans in close, lips pressing on Sigurd's again* Mm...

Sigurd: *His eyes closes, hands reaching up to hold on to the mafioso's shoulders. The lips part and eagerly, he kisses, tongue ready to explore*

Efram: Mmm... *He hums against Sigurd's lips as he returns the kiss. He meets tongues, mingling them together. His gloved hand drops from Sigurd's arm to his waist.*

Sigurd: *The man's toes curl into the bed slightly, tongue wrestling with Efram's* Mmmhnnmm..

Efram: Mnph. *His head tilts farther to the right, tongue diving deeper. The bedsprings creak when he shifts to lean over sigurd more.* Mmmh...

Sigurd: *Pulling back, his cheeks flush* Unghnn...Efram...ah..

Efram: *He hovers just over Sigurd's lips, breath warm.* Yeah, Sig?

Sigurd: You're handsome and romantic, you know? Why are you with a little old Square like me? *His eyes were still closed*

Efram: *He paused, the question completely taking him off guard.* Well why not? *He stalled a moment longer. Why indeed.* ... I can't explain it. I'm not even that into guys... but you... you're something special.

Sigurd: Why not...because I'm nothing. *He laughs, rubbing his forehead* Not into men...but I am special?

Efram: Well... well yeah. *He blinked, realizing how ridiculous what he said sounded after hearing it through another voice.* ... I dunno, I said I can't explain it. I just feel it.

Sigurd: Perhaps you love me for more than just what sex I am? *Smiling, he tilts his head to kiss at the mafioso's hand*

Efram: *That sensitive word, "love," when spoken by Sigurd always managed to give him goosebumps.* Yeah... that's what I mean.

Sigurd: Ahaaa...Come here, you. *Pulling down Efram down, he hugs the mafioso tightly*

Efram: Mph... heh. *He smiles, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around the pianist. He pecked a few kisses on Sigurd's shoulder as well.*

Sigurd: It feels nice to be close to someone again...someone who knows what he wants. *He kissed at Efram's forehead*

Efram: Hmmm... yeah. *He chuckles, snuggling down on Sigurd a bit more.* Same here... From what you told me about the guy you were with before, that shit sounds infuriating. *He laughed softly, adjusting his weight on his elbows.*

Sigurd: I was more...patient back then. Willing to teach and be gentle..but now that I have you, I don't think I could go back to that. *He smiles, forehead against pressed against Efram*


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