Current mood:

jubilant

Ahh, sex!
[Written last night, made public today because I find that my joy is so profound I cannot bear to keep it to myself.]

Sex! Where would we be without it, my friends? I find I am giddy with the newly rediscovered pleasure of it; I feel like a young Narn again! Mollari lies here sleeping in my quarters and I am awash with glee!

(And so I may protect myself from Londo's wrath upon awakening, I feel compelled to point out that he showed both stamina and creativity, and did not disappear into slumber until long after we had exhausted all six brachiarte and several helpings of both breen and some superb -- if I say so myself -- Vree spiced dumplings)

He collapsed fully clothed atop the covers, and I haven't had the heart to move him for fear of waking him, for I find I'm enjoying this quiet morning alone. I find, also, that I'm surprised by the fact that he doesn't snore. You'd think he would.

I'm surprised by so much, where Mollari is concerned. His unexpected grace. The fact that his hair does not grow naturally like that, but instead requires some sort of epoxy to hold it in place, and tends to fall limp about his brow at the end of the day. The fact that he is able to wax poetic in the throes of passion in no fewer than five languages, including both Narn and Human, and with not a little skill. The fact that he chooses to do so. The fact that he bruises easily, though that last one should not perhaps have been a surprise, and either way, his coat has a sufficiently high collar and his cummerbund does a marvelous job of concealing the space above his waistband from prying eyes.

Vir once implied that Mollari cried in his sleep. He is not crying now. To the contrary, the faintest trace of a smile is playing at his lips, and I can only hope that he is sleeping as soundly as he appears. One does not often get the chance to see him without the dark shadows that forever loom about him, the heavy weight of guilt and suffering for what he has done and what he is yet to do. But here, sanctified, perhaps, by what we have been through together, he seems to have found peace for one night, at least. And so have I.

I am overcome with joy. I want to shout, to dance, to grab Mollari from his slumber and have my way with him again and again and again. I am the definition of appetite, my friends, and it has been too long, years too long!