dutyroulette | The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

[Aymeric readjusts his angle, his knee making a soft creak in the leather. He thrusts hard into Francel, indiscreetly rocking the chaise and pushing it slowly across the floor with his thrusts.]

And you take all of me so well, my sweet squire. [He places a soft kiss on the corner of Francel's lips as he drinks in the sight. He hadn't had sex so brazenly in the morning before, and so had never seen his lover so clearly. It made Aymeric moan against Francel's neck as he dropped his head, the pleasure coursing through him.]

[it doesn't even matter to francel in this moment that the chaise is making a ruckus and that his family can surely hear them from downstairs — it just feels good, it just feels incredible and he can't think of anything he wants more than to have aymeric fuck him for the rest of the day, filling his mind with nothing but a static haze of sin.

the room itself is proof of all his years of pent-up lust, and by the fury is he going to get his satisfaction now.

he is most definitely still stretched out a bit from last night — but he's still squeezing hard and hot and lotion-wet against aymeric's cock, and he wraps his legs around the older man's slender waist while he nibbles at aymeric's plush bottom lip with all the tenderness of an innocent lover.]

G-Gods above, you already — a-already have me s-so close to ecstasy — oh, my lord, my dearest knight —

[His hands go down between Francel's legs, pulling his cock in soft, loving tugs. His palm rolls over the head before he presses Francel's foreskin down over the glans. He rubs the tip with his thumb, thrusting steadily harder into Francel.

He bites at Francel's lobe and whispers into his ear]

Come with me then, Francel.

[Partly, he said that because he couldn't hold on any longer himself. The build up had been incredible. Francel was deliciously tight, and the danger of being discovered welled the excitement in his belly. He came hard inside of Francel. His eyes rolled back as he closed them, his jaw hanging loose as his orgasm sent spasm through his core.]

Mmmhh — nngh, ah, Aymeric —

[he hits a peak so high that he thinks he might never be able to come down.

francel digs his nails into aymeric's back as he comes, panting and gasping in a soft broken voice that would make any hot-blooded listener want to fuck him again. it's the bite to his incredibly sensitive ear that sent him over the edge, and not the generous tugging of his cock — but it feels good and filthy and naughty to make a mess of aymeric's warm palm, and his cock twitches uselessly against aymeric's thumb once he's finished, wet and sticky between his legs and wet and sticky inside of him too.

good. good. once he's regained his senses, he reaches out to trace aymeric's jaw with his fingers, looking tired yet immensely satisfied.]

Gods... gods above, that was incomparable...

[His breath shudders and he pants, bathing in the afterglow still inside Francel.] I truly believe that was the best I've had in my life. Oh Francel, my sweet lover, please. You must allow us to do that again.

[He gives Francel's cock an affectionate squeeze before pulling his hand away to minimize the mess. He holds it, claw like, palm facing up as he pulls out of Francel.]

Let us wash up and be on our way.

I... I need a moment before I can stand...

[francel tries to move his hips so that he can send aymeric on his way to the washroom, but he feels so sensitive in the moment that the sensation of the older man's cock pulling out makes him shudder with a second wave of pleasure, and he has to stop partway through.]

Oh, that feels — mmnh...

[he cups a hand to his mouth to keep from saying anything more shameful.]

The... there is a washroom just... the door across from this one, you cannot miss it...

[With his clean hand, he gives Francel's ankle a kind squeeze.]

There is no terrible rush. I shall bring you a towel. [He makes his way over with a wobbly gait. He doesn't bother putting any clothes on for this endeavor. The sound of water is heard a room over as Aymeric washes his hands (and probably his cock). He returns with a damp towel, his leg muscles having regained their strength now for him to walk normally. His cock is still reddish and half hard between his legs, though it seems to be calming still.

He half-sit kneels onto the chaise, bringing the warm cloth up between Francel's legs. He pulls Francel's pants out o the way a bit so that he can see better as he dabs away lube and come.]

How does the theater sound to you today, my Lord?

[oh, that feels strange, being wiped between the legs as though he's some swaddled babe who can't do it himself — and yet it's not unpleasant, either, and he submits to aymeric's ministrations with a faintly drowsy smile that suggests he's really enjoying the attention.

he's lying limp and completely open to aymeric's whims — and that includes going to the theater.]

The... theater? To... to watch actors perform? Why, I have not done that in years, now... Do you know what they are playing?

They just put up the posters. I can't remember the title, but it appears to be a comedy about mismatched lovers. We have quite a bit of time before the performance. Should you like to go to the Crozier and browse the shops? I fear my coat is about to fall out of fashion.

[He does seem a slight bit overly energetic to go. He bites his lip as he gazes at where the chaise was and where it currently is based on the dustless imprint on the floor.]

Perhaps a midmorning pastry to replenish our strength?

[shopping and sweets. oh, aymeric knows just how to tempt him. blissfully unaware of how far (and how loudly) they moved the chaise in their lovemaking, francel blinks quizzically at aymeric's eagerness to leave — but he's comforted by the fact that the man wants to leave with him.]

...I doubt your coat will ever be out of fashion, my lord. You seem to set the fashions in Ishgard these days.

[once aymeric is done, francel pulls his own pants back up and laces them properly, rolling over to find his discarded bliaud.]

...If anything, perhaps I should get something new to wear. I will look out of place beside you at the theater, if I do not...

Edited 2016-12-27 02:27 (UTC)

We should get you something new. [Rather than undressing Francel with his eyes now, he was imagining him in different cuts of garments. He tapped his lips with a finger as he thought. He only barely waited for Francel to get his bilaud back on as he headed for the door, stopping on the rug as he heard a set of footsteps.]

[Stephanivien's voice came through, muffled by the thick wooden door. There was a feverish knocking. "Francel, are you in there still?"]

[Aymeric felt like a schoolboy caught with a shirtless girl behind the stacks in the library and remained silent.]

[the sound of stephanivien's voice coming through the library door makes francel jolt so badly that he drops his bliaud laces altogether.

he has to scramble to tie them up, rushing over to the door on his shaky legs — although, being fresh off the high of an afterglow, he feels a little less nervous than he arguably should be. "oh, er, yes!" he calls back through the keyhole, a little more high-pitched than usual. "wh-why, is something the matter, brother?"]

["Aurvael and I heard a bit of noise. Are you, um, alright?"]

[Aymeric seemed to get a bit paler. Facing dragons and disenters? Fine. But dealing with guarding brothers? That was a bit new for him. Most men were in too much awe of him to be pissed when he danced with their sisters.]

[Aymeric turned to Francel to whisper uncertainly.] Do they think I hurt you?

No... No, I think they are just... curious...

["we are just fine," francel replies, a little too quickly. "ser aymeric was simply... he helped me move some shelves. they — they are quite heavy, but — we managed!"

he needs to convince stephanivien to leave, and quickly. "er — would you, ah, do me a favor, brother, and ask our manservant to ready my traveling-cloak? after all this... lifting, ser aymeric wishes to browse the crozier."]

["That didn't sound- Why would the Lord Commander be helping you move shelves?" Stephanivien couldn't resist picking that apart. It didnt even make remote sense.]

[Aymeric was caught between laughing and trying to think of a way to buy into this lie. They would have to come clean. Besides, there was no real reason to lie, besides the rumors. It was a little late for that anyway with the shelf moving business. Aymeric was still whispering, feeling silly.] You can't tell them that it's none of their business?

["i-it just — came up in conversation," francel calls back, lying very badly. he gives aymeric a scandalized look.]

I-I could never be so disrespectful to my brothers!

["we will be finished in another minute," he adds to stephanivien, in a much more convincing tone. "was there aught that you needed, stephanivien?"]

[Aurvael and Stephanivien look at each other. "Brother, your shelves are built into your walls. They were custom Dzemael, remember?]

[Aymeric squeezed the bridge of his nose as a headache was coming on. As this conversation dragged on he dressed. Everything but his coat now- That was simply folded over his arm. And his shirt wasn't laced either, but. He wasn't naked. He stepped forward and opened the door, tousled hair and all.]

Gentlemen, your concern is most admirable, but you will find it sorely misplaced. Pardon our brusqueness, but we have a show to attend.

[He topped it off with one of his diplomatic smiles and nodded to Francel.]

We must be on our way, my Lord.

Edited 2016-12-27 03:42 (UTC)

[it's a good thing that aymeric saves francel when he does, because the young lord is caught so off-guard by stephanivien's infuriating common sense that he finds himself blushing red, at a total loss for words.

this is made... even worse by the fact that aymeric answers the door in a state of total disarray, and francel himself is — well, he's just managed to pull himself into decency, but he's missing his hat and his gloves and his brothers know he never leaves his room without his hat and his gloves! but there's nothing else to do about it now but... well... follow aymeric out as meekly as possible and pretend everything is just fine.]

...Y-Yes, Ser Aymeric. Ah... good day, brothers. Fare thee well. I will be back... anon.

[smooth.]

[Aurvael and Stephanivien are at an entire loss for words as they watch the two leave. They look between one another and the undeniable evidence of Aymeric having totally banged Francel.

"Aurvael. I saw Francel sneak out of the party last night. Could it have been...?"]

[They move quickly out of earshot of the rumormill starting already.] We will use my home next time. My sincerest apologies, Francel.

[francel has never felt so uncomfortable walking down the halls of his own family home.]

N-No, I... I was at fault, as well, Ser Aymeric. You offered to relocate to your home, but — 'twas I that refused.

[he lowers his voice, wary of any eavesdropping maidservants as he adds:]

I simply could not wait...

[He places a hand on Francel's shoulder to speak closely into his ear as they walk.] Neither could I. This is hardly anything treacherous. It will be scattered into the wind for tomorrow's gossip.

[Which would likely be something else juicy about the two of them, but anyway. They made their way out the door, Aymeric popping his coat on as the chill hit him. He caught sight of Francel's delicate little fingers, bare in the perpetual winter.] Ah, that just won't do. [ He pulled his gloves from his inner pocket and placed them into Francel's hands.]

Edited 2016-12-27 04:08 (UTC)

[the expression on francel's way is probably best described as ecstatic — in a much different way from his earlier ecstasy in the private library. francel looks like a delicate maiden swept off her feet, or like a brume starveling offered kindness for the first time in his life.]

Oh! I... I can wear your gloves?

[the shy, sweet way he asks this would convince anyone that he's a pure, unsoiled virgin.]

But of course, Francel. [What kind of bastard would just make the guy he just had sexwith carry his gloves in the cold???]

They were beautiful gloves, however. They were lined with soft white wool, the outsides a handsome, familiarly-colored blue leather with metallic detail on the knuckles. He smiled down at Francel before catching himself in the reflective glass of a neighbor's mansion. He straightened his hair a little- it barely helped. He turned his attention quickly back to Francel, however.]

Should I take you to my tailor?

[francel puts those gloves on so happily that one might think he has never owned a pair of gloves before. they're a little loose in the fingers — not that the difference in size between aymeric and francel is so great, but merely that francel has uncommonly delicate hands — but the lordling certainly doesn't seem to mind in the least. on the contrary, it seems to add to his enjoyment of the gloves; he almost seems to skip down the steps out from the last vigil toward the jeweled crozier.]

Oh, I... I shall go wherever you take me, Ser Aymeric. I've not had aught properly tailored in some years. The bliaud I wear now is... is a hand-me-down from Ser Chlodebaimt.

[He let out a soft chuckle at Francel's innocent maiden behavior, but took on an appropriately solemn expression at the mention of the departed Haillenarte son.]

Then it is well time that you were given a suit of your own.

[He caught up with Francel quickly enough, offering his arm for Francel to take. It was a bit public, but his fondness for Francel outsized his general shame right now.]

What are your favorite colors?

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