Probably some did come to the Pearl for honest escape from constant sensualism. Others, for the innocent pleasures of the senses that its offerings brought. And still others, for the titillation of how much they could get away with without being caught. Edmund wriggled his toes in the still-chilled leather of his boots, the last remnants of cold lingering there, and watched with interest as Zexion participated in the epicurean ritual himself. For Edmund, the thrill of voyeurism came in appreciating the purse of lips around a tasty bite, the handsome curve of a pouting pucker like Zexion's making neat inroads on the little square, the beauty of it quite separate from the perverted fantasies of shoving a cock between them. One simply didn't need that to enjoy the sight of a well-favoured mouth nibbling at danties.
Edmund smiled and swallowed the last half of caramel. "I can imagine a very tiny Ienzo, sniffing each and every tin carefully, dabbing a speck to taste, maybe even making notes about their contents. Of course, you already know my infamous sweet tooth, a vice I've had from an early age." He cast a wry look at the tiers and selected a dark chocolate round with a swirl of whipped ganache atop it. "Even sweeties that haven't been enchanted by a wicked sorceress can be sickening in excess. There is sometimes the most pleasure in very little, and diminishing returns in overabundance."
The corners of his mouth crinkled, as if to show he was neither morose nor philosophical about past mistakes in bringing up such matters. "Yet another reason to savour every tidbit to the fullest. The whole at once is over so soon. A taste at a time, the tongue dwelling on each burst of richness and sugarplum sweetness, makes the most of an indulgence."
Edmund delicately sank his teeth into the chocolate, and ah, this was heaven itself, the luscious ganache filling gracefully dancing right to the taste buds that would appreciate its bittersweet complexity. Some of the soft cream from the middle of the remaining half inevitably ended up on his lips, and the tip of his tongue played hide-and-seek with its suggestive smear, in a fashion that was neither strictly perfunctory nor gratuitously pornographic. No, he gathered it up like a maiden gathering wildflowers, purely for the joy of it without any heed for any princes who might be watching from the forest's edge and enjoying the spectacle of it. The other half joined its mate, wantonly, unhurriedly, at a pace that demonstrated exactly how much satiation could be wrung out of a single confection.
"And so," Edmund concluded, leaning back in his chair and wrapping his fingers once more around the warm mug before him, "that is why I am not entirely opposed to the art of slow savouring."
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Date: 2016-11-26 05:51 am (UTC)Edmund smiled and swallowed the last half of caramel. "I can imagine a very tiny Ienzo, sniffing each and every tin carefully, dabbing a speck to taste, maybe even making notes about their contents. Of course, you already know my infamous sweet tooth, a vice I've had from an early age." He cast a wry look at the tiers and selected a dark chocolate round with a swirl of whipped ganache atop it. "Even sweeties that haven't been enchanted by a wicked sorceress can be sickening in excess. There is sometimes the most pleasure in very little, and diminishing returns in overabundance."
The corners of his mouth crinkled, as if to show he was neither morose nor philosophical about past mistakes in bringing up such matters. "Yet another reason to savour every tidbit to the fullest. The whole at once is over so soon. A taste at a time, the tongue dwelling on each burst of richness and sugarplum sweetness, makes the most of an indulgence."
Edmund delicately sank his teeth into the chocolate, and ah, this was heaven itself, the luscious ganache filling gracefully dancing right to the taste buds that would appreciate its bittersweet complexity. Some of the soft cream from the middle of the remaining half inevitably ended up on his lips, and the tip of his tongue played hide-and-seek with its suggestive smear, in a fashion that was neither strictly perfunctory nor gratuitously pornographic. No, he gathered it up like a maiden gathering wildflowers, purely for the joy of it without any heed for any princes who might be watching from the forest's edge and enjoying the spectacle of it. The other half joined its mate, wantonly, unhurriedly, at a pace that demonstrated exactly how much satiation could be wrung out of a single confection.
"And so," Edmund concluded, leaning back in his chair and wrapping his fingers once more around the warm mug before him, "that is why I am not entirely opposed to the art of slow savouring."