Stand up 1: the Buckingham Palace lover

So I had a friend who was fucking one of the BP guards. He said he was really sweet, although a little stiff. He didn't seem to mind all that hair, nor the incessant eyes that rested on him. When he talked he actually laughed a lot, otherwise his semblance was that of an ancient stone or a sacred relic. He said he found that all too appealing. The real problem was he didn't like to be touched with his clothes on. So the only room for romance was that brief moment when he changed his uniform. He could only remove it himself, and he was not up to be commanded either. But under his red coat there was an even red-er skin. It was almost like he was constantly burning or like he had a piercing sun in the inside of all his fabrics, perpetually roasting the pink skin of an axolotl. 

So after a few months of being on and off, he found him on service. My friend got strangely aroused at the view of his lover in full uniform ready to protect something that was not himself. And he approached. Now, at this moment, my friend did not know what he was doing. As he moved on pure instinct, he stood directly in front of him. He claimed to have said: up for a drink when you are allowed to walk? And the utter rigidness of his lover gaze was the turning point for him. He would never love a statue while cold. And the redness of the sun that day charred his flesh with a freezing silence.