[ For a long moment, Oxford merely stands outside the hotel room door, staring at it wearily. Today, avoiding his duties has been impossible, and though he has tackled the day effectively and with his customary efficiency, he is so fed up with meetings and discussions that just minutes ago, he had taken his terribly fetching Aspinal tie - practically wrenching it off his own neck - and draped it unceremoniously over a potted plant, much to the confusion of a passing hotel maid, who had given Oxford an incredibly mystefied glance over her shoulder as he continued along the corridor, just like nothing had happened. Even stranger still, he was holding a pair of very expensive looking shoes in his hand, clearly not his own, since he was very much in possession of his own.
Part of him would simply like to leave the shoes outside the door with a note, or perhaps deposit them just inside - he knows that the room is unlocked - and retreat back to his own bed. Oxford knows that Cambridge is rarely the most sympathetic person, and he isn't sure whether he can be bothered to deal with the challenge of his colleague's company tonight. It's always hard to tell whether Cambridge might perhaps choose to be a little softer, or else to be his usual difficult self. Eventually, however, he takes the plunge and steps inside. Oxford thinks he would at least like to see Cambridge's reaction to the fact that he found his lost shoes.
Taking off his own shoes by the door, he pads across the floor silently, leaving Cambridge's by the bed as he rests his knee on the sumptuous mattress, leaning across to feel for Cambridge's body in the darkness. His hand, soft and searching, finds his lower back first, and gently slides upwards, following the contours until he finds the bare skin of Cambridge's shoulders. His fingers press lightly, at first, then a little harder, as Oxford leans over to speak, his voice low, in Cambridge's ear. ]
Wake up. [ A pause, his breath warm and even. ] I have a gift for you, my dear.
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Part of him would simply like to leave the shoes outside the door with a note, or perhaps deposit them just inside - he knows that the room is unlocked - and retreat back to his own bed. Oxford knows that Cambridge is rarely the most sympathetic person, and he isn't sure whether he can be bothered to deal with the challenge of his colleague's company tonight. It's always hard to tell whether Cambridge might perhaps choose to be a little softer, or else to be his usual difficult self. Eventually, however, he takes the plunge and steps inside. Oxford thinks he would at least like to see Cambridge's reaction to the fact that he found his lost shoes.
Taking off his own shoes by the door, he pads across the floor silently, leaving Cambridge's by the bed as he rests his knee on the sumptuous mattress, leaning across to feel for Cambridge's body in the darkness. His hand, soft and searching, finds his lower back first, and gently slides upwards, following the contours until he finds the bare skin of Cambridge's shoulders. His fingers press lightly, at first, then a little harder, as Oxford leans over to speak, his voice low, in Cambridge's ear. ]
Wake up. [ A pause, his breath warm and even. ] I have a gift for you, my dear.