dutyroulette | The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

Mm...

[with that soft hum of assent, francel pulls back, looking a little less teary-eyed, though his lashes are still wet and his nose is still a little red. he sniffs.]

I... Truth be told, I already had some wine in my room ere you came. Please, it's just this way...

[leaving the remnants of their tea to the undoubtedly puzzled manservant on hand, francel leads aymeric to his room on the second floor. at some point, at least, francel must have been beloved by his parents: he has, easily, the best room in the house, with plenty of space and a balcony overlooking ishgard. the room is nothing like the shack he lives in at skyfire locks. but it's almost as if there's too much space — the only furniture in the room is his bed, a table, some chairs, and shelves of books that line the walls.

it's easy to imagine francel as a child in this room, with piles and piles of books laid out on his spacious bed. at the same time, it feels almost unbearably lonely.

francel pulls the chairs to the table, where, indeed, a bottle of wine rests on its surface. it's not exactly a luxury wine befitting a lord of the high houses — one would struggle to imagine lord (count) artoirel serving aymeric this wine — but it's a good year from a good brand, and francel seems to do a lot of drinking in his room.]

Is this to your liking...?

[Aymeric cracks a broad smile.]

It is head and shoulders above what I would drink in active service. You should have seen the swill we drank on rough nights in the Forgotten Knight. It almost creates its own sort of poetry. Nothing a bard would bother to repeat, but it was our lot.

[He turns to look around soaking it in.]

Your room is beautiful. If we moved the table, we could dance unimpeded! Have you glasses, or shall we drink from the bottle like a couple of miscreants?

[His tone suggests that either would be just fine.]

Edited 2016-11-15 03:57 (UTC)

[francel laughs, shyly and sweetly, with a slight hiccup that hasn't quite left his chest since he started crying.]

Oh, a bard can sing of anything so long as he has the tune for it. For that, perhaps, one might write...

[francel hesitates, then plows on, to the tune of a well-known drinking song, though his rhyme is original; his voice shakes a little as he begins, but he works hismelf to a rousing finish.]

♪ And in the tavern walked a knight
Intent on claiming some respite! ♫
♫ On day-old bread and week-old ale
He dined — thus ends our hero's tale. ♪

...That was a silly ending, was it not? Forgive me, I could not think of aught more fitting.

[while singing, he was looking around the room for spare glasses, but there's only the one that he set out for himself.]

Ah... It seems we've just the one glass. I could pour myself a drink, and bid you drink out of the bottle — or vice versa, but...

[a shy but impish grin claims francel's mouth before he can think otherwise.]

Why don't we share the bottle? Like schoolboys in the seminary... or, well, a pair of schoolboys that will be duly punished in the name of the Fury, I suppose...

[Aymeric looks absolutely delighted at the little song. He offers rhythmic claps during and then the quicker expression of enjoyment immediately after.]

Wonderful, wonderful! You should repeat it to a soldier at the alehouse; I am sure he'd have a band of men singing it within the bell. Pray not apologize for a messy end. That is but the nature of finishing something, It is only in ballads and novels that all is so cleanly wrapped up.

[Aymeric takes up the bottle and shares Francel's grin. He pulls out knife as long as his pinky and uncorks the bottle in a swift, practiced motion.]

If the Fury had punishment for us, She'd have doled it out over night. I am confident She has more urgent prayers to answer and men to smite to simply punish a couple of men in their cups betwixt the sheets.

[francel seats himself on the edge of his spacious bed and pats the space beside him, as an invitation for aymeric to bring the bottle over.]

Mmm... well, since you have so clearly proven that you can keep a secret — I must admit, I often catch myself thinking that so long as I was going to drop out of the scholasticate, I really should have fooled around like this a bit more while I was there.

[there were so many hot seminarians, aymeric. so many. and francel was so full of thirst. what a goddamn waste.]

[Aymeric plops himself on the bed next to Francel. He takes a swig before handing it off. He laughs aloud and leans in close]

In this situation, we've both our spears at one another's breast. So easily could we take one another down from here. Not that I would dream of placing such a wonderful bedfellow in peril.

Now, why did you drop out?

[He leans in, brushing his lips- still wet with wine- against Francel's]

[the kiss soothes francel more than he even realizes. the tightly wound muscles in his neck and shoulders relax when aymeric's lips find his, and he finds himself greedy for more as aymeric pulls away. devilishly, francel leans in and claims a more aggressive kiss, dutifully lapping up whatever remnants of wine he can find with his tongue. he doesn't really care about the wine, in truth, but gods, it tastes so much sweeter on aymeric's lips...

(he tells himself not to think about anything. he tells himself that this way he doesn't have to think about haurchefant.)

he pulls away, his expression half-lidded, yet eager for more.]

...It is a rather long story...

I suppose, in the end, it was simply that I could not keep up with the work. My peers would rise early each morn to study before matins, and... I could not even bring myself to get out of bed. [he laughs, but it sounds soft and bitter.] I cannot even begin to explain it. It felt as if everyone around me had so much ambition, so much energy, and I... where was I? I confided in a prefect, but he told me 'twas all mere laziness, that I needed to find my love for the Fury.

[francel looks out at the balcony, into the distance.]

Perhaps I really did not love Her as purely as they did. And — you know, around that time, Chlodebaimt died — my brother, that is — Ser Chlodebaimt was dead, and I was set to fail damn near everything except for music and astrology — and I just could not bear the thought of disgracing House Haillenarte, to be the son that could not even become a priest...

[his voice falters.]

...I said that I would take up Skyfire Locks so that I could pursue vengeance for Chlodebaimt's death, and I did want that, that was honest... but part of it... part of it was simply that I needed to run away from my own mistakes.

...It is a shameful thing.

It's alright, Francel.

[He leans in and kisses him sweetly. He took deep enjoyment from the saucier kiss, but he found this to be good too.]

I find that mens motivations and paths are assigned random luck. I pursued my father into the Holy See and was tortured as a result. And for what, truly? I cannot say I learned aught else new besides the depth of an inquisitor's cruelty.

The Fury guides us all, though our destination may not seem clear.

[He shrugs off his coat onto the bed, a bit too distracted to hang it properly. He had become rather suddenly warm, after all. He places a hand on Francel's on the wine bottle, bidding him to take a sip.]

[it isn't as though francel's never gotten himself wasted before, but somehow, being coaxed into drinking like this makes him feel somehow small and innocent. he takes up the bottle and drinks from it, relishing his indirect kiss almost as much as the chaste, direct ones. he wants another kiss very badly, and it shows on his face, but he doesn't move as he balances the bottle in aymeric's lap again.]

Did they leave scars, the inquisitors? I... I, too, had my faith tested ere I was taken to Witchdrop, but Inquisitor Brigie was very kind. She said she would leave me no lasting marks...

I have scars, aye. Ser Charibert's marks are indistinguishable now from the flame from a Dravanian's maw.

[That was untrue. The fire blast from dragons was very different from the carving scars left by his delicate, hot flame. Even in his death, however, Aymeric would not give him the satisfaction of distinction.]

I am pleased that you have been left without scars. It highlights the nature of your beauty. [His eyes flick between Francel's lips and eyes. He takes up the bottle of wine taking a slow drink from it. He cleans his bottom lip with his tongue before biting it. He didn't actually intend to try to fuck Francel again today, but it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He leans forward, capturing Francel's lips with his own, holding him close with his other hand.]

Edited 2016-11-15 20:44 (UTC)

[francel certainly seems more than willing to escalate their chaste kisses into lustful touches, but his hands move slower than during the frantic fucking of last night. if his question about scars is any indication, he didn't really get the chance to take a good long look at aymeric's body, and he seems to want to take his time exploring it now.]

You flatter me. I... I never thought of myself as beautiful until you said I was so.

[francel shivers with a sudden wave of intense desire.]

How are you so kind, Aymeric? So warm and gentle? I cannot help but marvel that the whole of Ishgard is not yet sprawled at your feet. I want so badly to please you, not for my sake but because I want only to give you some small measure of what you give to all of us...

It is you who flatter, Lord Francel. I merely stated a truth. You are a beautiful man with fair, unblemished skin and a healthy glow.

[He sets the bottle on the floor, having become a lot more interested in the other activities here. He unfastens Francel's bilaud, though leaving it closed for his modesty. He thinks that he doesn't want to rush this either. They've been blessed with clear sunlight through Francel's balcony windows. He watches the light play on his face. He traces the deep red wine stain on Francels's lower lip with his thumb.]

Look how easily your lips stain...

[francel allows aymeric a long moment to admire his lips before he starts nipping at aymeric's thumb -- mischievously at first, but then he takes it full into his mouth, sucking slowly and sensually on aymeric's fingers in an effort to evoke other things he could be sucking on. he hums softly as he pulls himself off aymeric's thumb, leaving it warm and wet from the heat of his mouth.

how did it come to this? they were having an innocent conversation only moments before. and yet, try as he might, francel doesn't feel guilty in the least.

(this way, this way, he doesn't have to think about haurchefant.)

his voice is husky and breathy when he whispers:]

I adore you. I would gladly worship you.

Some would consider that heresy.

[Aymeric is a little surprised when his cock throbs at francel's words. He gently pushes him onto his back, kissing him deeply. He pushes open his bilaud now, bare hands running over his skin. Footfalls echo in the hallway and sits up immediately, turning his attention to the door. He pulls francel's shirt closed. The footfalls stop, seeming hesitant before continuing on past francel's room]

It would be foolish of us to be heard like this, so early in the morning with everyone awake. Should we away to my home instead...?

Edited 2016-11-16 01:31 (UTC)

[color rose to francel's cheeks the minute he was pinned down onto the bed; it doesn't leave his face as he holds his bliaud shut. by those heavy footsteps the intruder was either stephanivien or count baurendouin (aurvael, for all his surface resemblance to their father, walks with a lighter gait).

neither of those men are people that francel wants in his bedroom right now, especially not with aymeric so... so damn frisky.]

I... I am... not sure.

[really, how did it get to this? drinking and wanting sex with a man this early in the morning? his mother would be ashamed to see him. his father, too.]

...I don't know if I can wait...

Does your door lock? Or is there a room here that would- A private bath, perhaps?

[Aymeric stands, pulls off his boots, and walks quietly to the door to inspect it. He has to laugh at himself... Sneaking around like when he was sixteen! Fury save him, but this was fun and thrilling, too. ]

My home isn't so far from here. [ He grinned. Only 12 bells ago lord Francel had been a virgin, hadn't he? ]

I'm afraid the double doors refuse to lock...

[sighing, francel pushes himself off the bed and scans the room. well, he does have a side room off of his bedroom, but that's...

in a timid voice, he manages:]

I... I do have a private library, by the shelves there, but... you must promise not to look at any of the books!

[Aymeric approaches, encircling Francel in his arms. ]

I must admit that my curiosity is piqued. I can't help but wonder what those books could be now; surely you aren't afraid that you'll push me away by your tastes in poetry! More importantly, is there space to lay down?

Y-Yes, of a sort...

[leaning up to kiss aymeric on the cheek (he sort of misses and winds up planting his lips on aymeric's neck), francel slips out from his lover's embrace and makes his way to the side room. apparently he keeps the key in his chest pocket; he takes it out and unlocks the door.

the original purpose of the "private library" seems to be a mystery. the room is certainly too small to ordinarily receive guests, yet it doesn't seem equipped to be a walk-in closet and the window makes it somehow uncomfortable as a potential bath-room. still, francel has outfitted the room with several small shelves of books and a luxurious chaise longue where he undoubtedly lies down to read for hours at a time.

most of the books have odd, vague titles like abalathia's spire and the lover.]

It is not so spacious as my bed, I know...

Edited 2016-11-16 02:58 (UTC)

I've done worse on a barracks bunk bed. This will be fine.

[He glances at the titles, but the don't ring a bell, really. He picks a book off the arm of the lounge to reshelve it, then catches the title. The Knight's Squire. He had only heard passages read aloud in the barracks when one knight would find it in another's belongings. It wasn't a bad novel, but certainly the passage about the analingus was shocking to men just barely out of their teens. ]

Francel, your proclivity for men is no secret to me. Is this what you were worried about?

[too quickly:] N-No!

...I mean, yes! But — that is — y-you promised not to look at the books!

[god damn it aymeric did you really have to pick up the knight's squire?! it's one of francel's guilty pleasures! yes, okay, the sex could be better-written, but the knight and his squire are just so loving towards each other...]

It — of course I know that you know I prefer men, but — I did not want you to know that I read this sort of —

Edited 2016-11-16 03:20 (UTC)

I couldn't resist, I'm sorry.

[anyway he never said he wouldn't look, just that he wouldn't think less of him. ]

All is well, Francel. There is no shame in reading about love. Intercourse is merely part of and an expression of it. It's been years since I've seen a copy. Does it have the little woodcut prints in it?

[ he hands the book mercifully back to Francel without looking inside. He wasn't trying to give the man a heart attack after all.]

...It does...

[francel rather obviously has something of a miniature crisis as he attempts to hide his face behind the book, then brings it down to his lips, then hugs it against his chest, then brings it up to his face again. after a short period of flailing around like this, he opens the book to a page where he's left a thin ribbon of bookmark — in the print, the handsome knight is stripped to the waist and working his hands between the squire's delicate thighs.]

...Is not Vairevaux one of the most handsome men in Ishgard? Or — the model that posed for this illustration, I suppose... Ah — but he does not hold a candle to you, of course...

[Aymeric stands in close next to him to look at the picture. He laughs at Francel's little save]

Don't worry, my ego isn't so fragile as to begrudge good Ser Vairevaux his good looks, nor your adoration of him. After all, Ser Vairevaux cannot do this-

[He firmly grabs one of Francel's buttocks, his hand moving between his legs from behind.]

Have you imagined yourself as the squire... late at night?

Oh —

[the sudden game of grab-ass makes francel jolt to attention, his whole body stiffening at aymeric's touch. he closes the book, using his finger to mark the page he was on; he fumbles for words.]

I... I have... um...

[he's jerked off more times to this book than all the others — well, maybe all the others, there's another book about a priest and a knight that francel almost has memorized word-for-word...]

Th-The scene where... the squire... comforts Ser Vairevaux after his loss... th-that's my favorite... because Vairevaux is angry... and so rough...

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