You just wanted to see him try on the coat. That long blue coat with the buttons that went on forever. It was mostly in jest when he struck the pose. But an actor to the core, he couldn’t stop the Hamlet persona from taking over.
“To be, or not to be—that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them.”
He moves closer to you, a slow slinking walk that is more Hamlet than David now.
“To die, to sleep— No more—and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.”
He reaches out to pull you against him, his arm going around your waist. You stare into that dark, magnetic gaze. He leans forward, pressing his lips to your neck before continuing the soliloquy in your ear.
“To die, to sleep— To sleep—perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.”
His voice sends shivers down your spine as his breath tickles your ear. “Like Shakespeare, eh?” His delicious Scottish accent is back and it’s too much to take. You pull his head away, hands fisted in his hair and take his mouth.
He tightens his arm around your waist, and presses his tongue into your mouth. You moan against his lips as his hands begin roaming your body.
The coats ends up in a crumbled heap on the floor.