Formosus blushed. "What do you know, Marius? I think sometimes I should have been born a girl."

"Oh, no, never a girl. You are far too pretty as a man." Another kiss, this one lingering and rising up to the ear. A tiny nibble, followed by a groan of pleasure.

"Yes, of course you are right. I am happy as I am." Formosus rose from the chair and scuttled back onto the divan, wrapping his arm around Marius' shoulders. He gave a squeeze. "And guess what?"

Marius turned. "What?" He couldn't resist another kiss; this one to the lips.

Formosus smiled and laughed softly. "Oh, Marius, I do so enjoy your affections. But seriously, I have decided on something else to do besides reading."

Marius waited expectantly. This creature might want to do anything, the world was so enormous and new to him.

"Are you ready?" Formosus asked excitedly. Marius nodded. "I think… I would like to write some poetry."

Marius' face registered a look of surprise. "You're going to write again? 'Lucius Socius Cordatus' will put pen to paper?"

"Yes, Marius, yes! That is exactly it. I have no idea what I will say. I have no idea what I will do with the poems either. Certainly you will read them. As for the world… I don't know. But I am inspired, I can feel it. Do you have the paper? A, ugh…" Formosus looked puzzled suddenly.

"A pen?" Marius laughed suddenly. He realized that Formosus had probably not written anything on paper since the turn of the first millennium. "Yes, you will need a pen. I will bring out several options and you may choose which one suits you. Probably a fountain pen will be most comfortable for you. The other pens, the modern pens, will glide too quickly."

"Very well, then set me up right now!" Formosus rose and Marius followed him into the study.

Marius went to a bookcase and drew out a large, blank writing notebook, bound in dark brown leather. Formosus took a seat at the large, expansive writing desk. Marius presented him with the notebook and a pen case. He drew out the fountain pen and, taking another piece of paper from a drawer, demonstrated how it was used. Formosus nodded.

"Marius, I feel I'm about to embark on one of my illuminated manuscripts. So formal! Could you perhaps make the machine play some of that wonderful music you played last night? I enjoyed that very much you know."

Marius left the room and soon Beethoven's last symphony was filling the air with passion. He thought briefly of Sybelle, who was with Armand and Benji, visiting another city. "Apassionata" was beautiful, but it was good to be able to choose another tune.

Returning to the study, he found Formosus already on the second or third page of the notebook, his hand drawing across the pages with amazing speed. Marius peered over his shoulder to catch his words. He recognized the handwriting as that of a Roman scribe, clear and precise, yet executed with incredible speed. In the matter of all Latin writing, there was no punctuation and even in their clarity, the letters appeared as the proverbial "chicken scratchings." Marius had not seen anyone, save himself, write this way since Roman times.

"It is coming to me, Marius, coming as it's never come before. Make sure to time me, to make sure I don't sit here all night. I don't want to neglect you." Formosus spoke without turning his head, without pausing. He turned a page quickly and the scratching sound of the pen continued.

"Believe me, I will stop you when I think you've written enough. You can't expect me to simply look at you all night, can you?"

Formosus laughed as he kept on writing. "No, Marius, I can not expect that. And believe me, the desire in me is strong. Presently I am taking out that desire on this piece of paper."

"I shall let you continue then," Marius said quickly, leaning to deliver another kiss. He smiled and stepped out into the hall. He turned, entered his bedroom, and surrendered to the sea of pillows and comforters.