Koschei laughs rather foolishly, head lulling back, and then dipping forward until his chin is tucked in, with a rarest display of shyness. He thinks on his handsome cur, with the perfect brown combover and the rakish dimples.
“I dunno,” he effuses–this worldly, seasoned monster–turning red as a damned maiden.
The Master glances over the rim of his reading glasses at his husband. He examines him like a fruit fly, but the glint in eyes the hue and effervescence of root beer is telling.
“Has someone been bitten by the mummy bug?” he queries, closing the holographic console in front of him, to wanly smirk. “Someone who once complained of being pregnant?”
He’s been waiting and watching for his husband’s reaction to the present. One of the small silver orbs he made him for Christmas a few years back is not only taking photos of the event, but also streaming straight to Jack’s wrist strap so he won’t miss a precious second of it.
And what a reaction it is too.
He swaggers into the room a few moments later, brimming with confidence (even arrogance).
“Steal is such a dirty word,” he says as he approaches Koschei. “I like to think of it as displaying it in its rightful place. I’m sure Klimt had us in mind when he painted this.”
Koschei laughs lustily, smacking his thighs. He spins and seizes Jack’s face in a rough unsoftened kiss.
“You DIRTY THING,” he growls, in raptures at being so spoiled by so competent a criminal mastermind. “That’s right, you redistribute the bounty to appreciative owners, my Robin Hood.”
He squishes Jack’s cheeks and nips both his dimples. Then he turns in his arms and claps his cheek with one hand.
“The crown jewel of Viennese Art Deco,” he croons.
Jack laughs through all the attention and doting, grinning almost madly as Koschei admires his handiwork. “Robin Hood? So does that make you my Maid Marion? Minus all the ridiculous angst?”
He presses a kiss to Koschei’s bare cheek, both his arms wrapped around his husband’s waist. “And if you like that, I’ve got a surprise for you in the drawing room.”
He takes Koschei’s hands then and guides him to the smaller study that still carries the same interior decorating. On the wall is another new painting, likewise liberated from its former residence to now grace their walls.
“Not quite as bright and shiny as the other, but I like this one a lot.”
Koschei grabs Jack’s face yet again, massaging all the beautiful Grecian muscles and LOUDLY kissing the dimples, and then his mouth, ecstatic.
“Is that a MUNCH? That man was utterly MAD! HehHAH! Oh, darling. It’s so soft, and.”
Fingers dance down Jack’s neck, unbuttoning his collar, sliding inside his shirt to massage his chest.
Icarus 