dutyroulette | The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

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...

Is that so? Last night we were innocent lovers married... Today would you be my attending squire?

[He gropes Francel through his pants, using his other hand to pull Francel's jaw up to kiss and nip hungrily at the soft flesh. Aymeric found that he was learning a lot of new things about himself with Francel as a bed fellow.]

Shall I make you polish my sword, remove the plate mail from my shoulders, and rub salve into my wounds after a hot bath?

Y-Yes... yes, please...

[francel cannot hide the naked desire in his voice when he gives that assent; greedily he presses his cock into aymeric's groping fingers, and he tilts his neck to allow the man as much access to his lips and neck as he wants. he's just so open, so eager to receive aymeric's every whim and desire — but it's nice that he can be responsive, too, at least in that francel puts the book down and slides one hand down along aymeric's perfect jawline.]

I would do all that and more for you, my love.

[and, seamlessly, he shifts from the marriage roleplay into the knight-and-squire scenario.]

Would you have me call you 'ser'? Or perhaps... 'my lord'?

I prefer "Ser". My accomplishments as a knight outweigh my social status, I think.

[He places a few more kisses on his neck and gives his cock a squeeze before pulling back.]

As my squire then, you are to help me undress. For I am battle-weary. Then you are to tend to my sore flesh.

[He began undressing already. His noblemen's clothing was doing a terrible job of keeping the illusion here. And he was sore and weary, though from his desk chair and long hours standing in the courts and arguing... ]

Yes, ser.

[the nobleman's clothing works just as well, honestly. francel happily takes aymeric's heavy fur coat, handling it with all the reverence he might give an actual piece of plate armor; he folds it delicately over the side of the chaise.]

Your armor is ever so heavy, ser. Your shoulders must be so tense.

[despite the tension in his pants, francel manages to be the picture of a demure and loyal squire as he takes aymeric's blue shirt as well, and places it alongside the coat.]

Perhaps you should flex your back muscles while you try to relax. Certainly not for my personal enjoyment, you understand.

Aye, they are. [He gives francel a coy grin and does so. A series of pops emanate as his lefts his arms above his head. He turns, facing away to give Francel proper view as he drops his arms, pulling them wrist to wrist behind and then in front of himself. He gives his neck a roll as he turns to look over his shoulder at Francel. Luckily for him, between the bright morning light through the window and the cozy fire, Aymeric's body is well lit. While turned away, he unfastens his pants, then turns to sit on the lounge in his usual wide stance.]

Do you spot any new wounds, dear Squire? Anything that should be tended to?

[In all honesty, there sort of was. Though the marks were older now, the burns from torture, the spars with his new friend Vedrfolnir, and several pink battle wounds were laced above his older scars. While they were in no danger for infection and the ache had left, perhaps a bit of lotion on the scars would ease the tightness of them. That or a regular massage on his weary shoulders. Those hulking shoulder plates didn't carry themselves after all.]

[aymeric may turn back to find francel gaping at him with his mouth slightly ajar; if left to his own devices, he would probably start drooling. francel is weak to mens' bodies in general, of course, but seeing a well-defined torso particularly arouses him — for a moment, he's so stunned by aymeric's physical attractiveness that he completely forgets how to think.

no good. no good. and anyway, aymeric is so much more than just his pretty face (and fantastic body). francel shakes his head and approaches the chaise, kneeling before his knight and inwardly praising halone for allowing him the blessing of aymeric's spread legs.]

Allow me to remove your boots, ser, and after that, I shall ease your tensions in any way I can.

[he takes his sweet time unbuckling aymeric's white shoes and placing them to the side. something about being able to handle a beautiful man's shoes excites him; he takes them off with the solemn dignity of a man at worship. in this position, it's tempting to ask aymeric to step on his cock and make a mess of him — but today aymeric is his knight, and francel the squire is determined to bring his lord some comfort.

there is a little drawer on the bottom of the chaise that would be almost impossible to spot if one didn't know to look for it. in days past, francel kept more innocent trinkets there; now, the drawer carries a respectable bottle of lotion that is generally used in less-than-respectable ways. francel takes this up and rises to his feet, pouring a generous amount of lotion into his hands.]

Would you prefer to have your massage lying down or sitting upright, Ser Aymeric?

Edited 2016-11-16 05:39 (UTC)

[Aymeric shifts into a laying position onto his front. He flexes once more, then folds his arms to rest his head upon them. He stretched his legs and flexes his buttocks before relaxing himself.]

I always prefer to stretch out for these sorts of things. I can flip over when you feel you have finished with my back.

[Aymeric privately enjoys that this bit of role-play includes such sweet pampering. He should have gotten himself an insecure, man-loving noble years ago.]

You are a such a wonderful and loyal squire. What ever would I do without you?

[He peeks back at him with a smirk. Francel's reactions were so sweet. He thought that he should make him do this again and adorn him with squire's mail.]

[francel smiles back prettily, looking very much intoxicated by aymeric's presence. truly, he is the ideal insecure boytoy.]

I am sure you would still be every inch the valiant knight you are, my lord.

[once aymeric is comfortable, francel sits on the chaise beside him. he takes his time to warm and smooth out the lotion in his hands before he begins massaging aymeric's shoulders and back — lightly at first, to accustom aymeric to the sensation, and then deeper, with more satisfying pressure. he's especially eager to tend to a knot that aymeric has at the nape of his neck, and sweetly irons out the tension aymeric is keeping there.

privately, to himself, francel counts out the scars on his lover's back. he takes his sweet time tending to them, careful to watch for any signs of discomfort from aymeric. francel is still nursing a (slightly softened though still obvious) bulge between his legs, but he seemingly doesn't pay it any mind as he allows himself the pleasure of running his hands over aymeric's body every which way he wants to.]

You... really have such an impressive body, ser. Please... tell me if you want me to pay special attention to any place in particular. I'll do anything you ask.

You charm me so, my young companion. With your eagerness, several moons with sword and shield in hand should toughen you as well.

[He gasps as that pesky knot has finally been widdled down. He lets out a soft, genuine moan. He feels his pants tightening as Francel's fingers move all over him. He considers for a moment where he truly is feeling some pain and has to chuckle. His lower back had been sore- not from swinging his great sword, but from his posture slackening late into the night as he worked.]

Remove my woolen hose, good squire, and continue your ministrations lower.

[This time, he really was wearing hose. Aymeric would have said they they were what he was used to and that they were comfortable. But he also knew how well they flattered his legs and showed off his gear while still falling under the guise of modest dress.

He flexes his lower back and buttocks, trying to rid himself of some of the tension waiting for Francel.]

[francel does as he is told, after thoroughly enjoying aymeric's erotic moan and accepting it completely as his reward for being a good squire — but when he moves to slide aymeric's hose off his legs, and the handsome heir to house borel flexes, well...

the temptation is just too great. before he can stop himself, francel's slapped aymeric's cute butt — more a gentle swat than a proper spank, really, but the point remains. gods, he's just got such a nice ass.

innocently, as he pulls the rest of the hose off:]

...Good for blood circulation, that.

Edited 2016-11-18 02:32 (UTC)

[He let out a soft, pleased sound, rolling his hips. His erection was pressed up against the cushion now as his hose were taken; his excitement slowly but strongly building. ]

Is it indeed... [He continues to crane his neck to look at Francel. He spreads his legs, lifting his pelvis and tilting it, letting his hardening cock catch on the chaise to put it on display. But he does not address it. He thinks briefly that he would have never accepted this from a genuine squire- but as he sinks deeper into the fantasy, writing tales in his head about valiant tales of heroism and adventure-

He soon grew the littlest bit envious of Ser Vairevaux. ]

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