The Marquis turned over slightly to face him, sliding a hand around to the small of his back to keep him there. "I think that, my pet," he whispered, "is an excellent idea." The wine on his breath was detectable. Not offensively strong, but there. He only ever allowed himself to become intoxicated when he drank alone; though his bed had seen quite a few visitors in recent months, and he himself had guested several himself, he did not trust many of his new acquaintances enough to allow himself to become drunk in front of them.

He leaned nearer to kiss him.