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Nate shrugs. "D'you want one? I'm comfy on any surface and don't sleep."

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"I haven't owned a bed in years," he says, "but I haven't had this much sex in years, either."

Bed! In the bedroom, no less. Big, comfy, snuggly, very inviting-looking bed.
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"...Did you ever have this much sex?" Nathan asks, moseying bedward. "I didn't think that was something nonmagical humans could do."

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He laughs.

"Well, maybe not. Close, though."

Here's a new one: the Joker pounces, for a change.
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Nathan approves of this change!

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Fun for everyone!



By the time they are finally finished enjoying their nice new bed, it's late at night; the Joker curls up and goes straight to sleep.
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Nathan has nothing he would rather do than hold his mate, all night long.

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In the morning, he wakes up and bounces out of bed and starts conjuring things in the living room. Table, chair, sewing machine, materials.

True to his earlier promise, he is apparently going to make Nathan a shirt the colour of blood-saturated vampire eyes.
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Nathan supervises for a while, but sewing doesn't have an intrinsic interest for him. At a good moment, he says, "I'm gonna go scope out our neighborhood, babe, I'll be back in half an hour or so."

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"Have fun," he says absently, and blows Nathan a kiss before he goes back to cutting fabric.

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Nathan's back half an hour later and he leans over the Joker, peering at the garment taking form.

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It is a shirt. Well, half a shirt, right this second.

It's going to be gorgeous.
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"Gorgeous," comments Nathan.

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"Yup," says the Joker.

It doesn't take that much longer to finish it up and snip loose threads and sew on buttons. And then Nathan gets to try it on!

It is really gorgeous. Especially when the Joker takes away the illusion covering Nathan's eyes.
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Nathan peers at his sleeves. "Can I get a mirror?" he asks archly.

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He conjures a full-length mirror attached to a nearby wall.

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Nathan strikes a pose, and then another pose, mugging for his audience. "I am certainly a specimen," he says.

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"You're beautiful," he sighs. "Now take that off so it doesn't get hurt when I drag you to bed and fuck you silly."

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Unbutton unbutton unbutton. Deliberately slow and teasing. (There might be winking involved.)

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"Sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning forward in his sewing chair.

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The shirt is slid off. Nathan pauses to fold it, smirking.

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As soon as the shirt is safely on the table, the Joker pounces.

They do not make it to the bed.
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Some time later, Nathan says, "Scale of weeks, this is the best time to ask about the scars I don't know the stories of yet?"
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The Joker curls up closer.

"This one, you mean?" he says, touching the long thin line slashed across his left hip.
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Nathan traces that scar with one chilly finger, and the one on the Joker's neck, too.

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