dutyroulette | The Next Morning (Francel & Aymeric)

[aymeric's rapturous moans spur francel to suck more and more enthusiastically until finally aymeric's hand brings him to a stop. from the sulky expression on his face as he pulls up one last time, francel really did want aymeric to come in his mouth — but he can hardly hold a grudge over the sweet way his lover broke character. he covers his mouth demurely and makes a show of swallowing.]

No? Then...

[finally, finally, he lifts his skirt, enough to reveal the way his own cock is red and throbbing and partially holding the silks up.]

Is it this that you want?

[His voice comes out deliriously low and sweet.] Oh, Fury, yes. Shake your hips for me, won't you?

[Without taking his eyes off of Francel, he makes a grab for the oft used jar from the night stand. He untwists the metal screw top and tosses it aside. He scoops some of the lavender scented gel from the edge... They would have to buy more he silently notes. He reaches down and jerks himself slowly with the cold lubricant, sighing as it bought him a few more minutes.

He reaches up between Francel's beauitful thighs, noting how much larger and more masculine his hands looked next to Francel's- his thin hands holding the red silk. He presses his fingers behind francel's coinpurse of a sac, acting as if he's just massaging the oil into the area.]

[in all their months of play, francel's never heard aymeric sound that gruff, that sweet — and it makes him hunger for the man like never before.

he wants aymeric so badly at this point that he barely even needs to be told to shake his hips — he does it of his own volition, swaying them side to side with the skirt lifted so that aymeric can see every damn thing. it's a pity they didn't turn on the orchestrion for a little music. francel makes up his own rhythm, swinging his hips this way and that to let the golden chains on his skirt catch the ceiling light.

when aymeric's hands make their way between his legs, francel can't help but let out a desperate, keening moan. he shakes his hips more vigorously, forward and backward this time, pressing aymeric's fingers more insistently where he wants them to be.]

Oh, please, that's so good —

[he's the one breaking character this time; hastily he pulls himself together, trying to look seductive yet demure again.]

[They always fall out of character eventually, but Aymeric is always pleased when Francel at least tries to keep it up. His fingers find Francel's entrance, and he presses in, but allows his young lover to do the movement. He knows how fast he can go at this, but he lets it draw out. After all, he's trying to memorize the wonderful view.]

[he pushes his middle finger in as far as it'll go, starting to wiggle it inside him.]

Is that alright, boy?

Mm... Gods, yes, it's perfect —

[francel can't wait for aymeric to slide his fingers inside; instead, he bucks his hips so that he takes aymeric inside himself. he rocks his hips until he's taken aymeric's thick, sturdy fingers to the knuckle — and then he rocks still further, pressing those fingers up against his sweet spot.

where were they in their act? he barely remembers; he cobbles together something improvised.]

I'm s-sorry... for being so wanton. The traders, they — they always told me to pretend not to enjoy it — because no one wants secondhand goods, but — [he shivers involuntarily, as the next words are honest] — you are just so handsome that I cannot help myself...

[aymeric makes a rumble in his throat as he feels francel around him. He curls his fingers into francel's spot. he knows exactly where it is, after all.

he slowly strokes himself just to maintain his erection as he watches francel.]

They're fools. Your expression in the throes of passion is exquisite. You are a beauty transcendent!

[He pulls his fingers out only to shove them back in to watch his reaction.]

[francel's eyes widen with shock then flutter and roll back when aymeric toys with him; his lips part as he moans and pleads for more.]

Aymeric...

[to hell with keeping character, honestly — this is more than enough buildup, he wants aymeric inside him right this minute —]

Aymeric, please, I want you — [he tries one last time to muster his role] — I want to satisfy you, my lord...

You want the same, do you not? P-Please... say you want me. That is — that is what everyone says —

Edited 2017-01-04 06:59 (UTC)

[he pulls his fingers out, wiping the lube on their bedding. he lines Francel up, easing him down against the tip. he bites his lip and moans into his mouth as he feels francel's entrance give way around his cock. with his hands on francel's hips, he eases him fully down his length.

his breathing comes heavily as he tries to steady himself amidst the dizzying sensation.]

Oh, Francel, of course I want you! I want nothing more than you! [it was always so hard to keep the game up once he was inside him. he begins to move his hips slowly, cautious not to overload himself so soon in. he squeezes his eyes shut, his head lolling back. he can't bear to look if he's going to last.]

Edited 2017-01-04 14:12 (UTC)

Oh, yes — Aymeric, please —

[they've done this dozens of times by now, but still, francel always squirms when aymeric enters him, like it's his first time, every time. he pants and wiggles against aymeric's length, greedy for more even as he reminds himself that he wants aymeric to go at his own pace. his gaze is fixed on aymeric's expression of pleasure; he drinks in every last detail.]

I want you, too... my lord... my master... darling... dearest...

[he makes all manner of delighted groans as francel squirms. he has a starry look in his eye as he opens them. he gets a bit dewy as he thrusts at a regular pace. between francel's bobbing cock, his sweet face, and the lewd outfit he finds it difficult to contain himself. aymeric pulls francel onto him closely to flip francel onto his back,

he lifts his legs to place his ankles against his shouders as he continues to work him into the mattress. his hat falls off and he sweeps it off the bed.]

I love you, please, please stay with me- forever. I beg you! [he barely knows what he's saying as he slams into francel, his mind blank and his core hot with electricity.]

[francel squeaks coquettishly as he's pushed into the mattress. with the silks spread out against the bed he doesn't need to keep lifting his skirt anymore, so he throws his arms around the broad expanse of aymeric's back and hums with pleasure. his whole body rocks to the rhythm of aymeric's thrusting; his tongue lolls at the corner of his mouth as he presses half of his face into the pillow, looking at aymeric through slightly glazed eyes.]

I will stay — gods above, I'll stay for all eternity —

[little devilet that he is, francel musters all the energy he has left to lean forward and moan into aymeric's ear:]

Aymeric, it's — so long and thick — your cock —

[that's all the filth he can manage before he comes, white-hot and searing from his core all the way out towards his toes — and by some miracle of fate he manages to grab his own cock so that he doesn't stain his pretty costume.]

[that bit of dirty language is too much. it's all just too good that he can't stand it as he thrusts a few more times and loses control of his orgasm. he comes deep inside of francel with a primal sort of cry. it takes him several moments as his orgasm shakes into afterglow and he opens his eyes.

he presses quivering lips against francel's, trying to steady his breath through his nose. he collapses onto his younger lover, losing his will and energy as he starts to go flaccid. he presses kisses into the only thing in front of him- francel's graceful jaw. he slowly moves his muscular arms under francel, locking him into a tight embrace.]

Come spring... you'll marry me, won't you?

[all wrapped up in the warmth of his own afterglow, the question should surprise francel and yet somehow it does not. he laughs breathlessly, then wraps his arms like a loose scarf around aymeric's neck; he presses his lips against aymeric's forehead, and then his nose into aymeric's scalp, breathing deep of the post-sex scent of his hair.]

Yes. By the Fury, yes. With all Her guidance and blessing, yes.

[he pants for a few more moments, also trying to steady the beating of his heart. his breath must feel warm against aymeric's forehead.]

...Did you find a priest to marry us?

Not yet, but I am sure with news of our engagement someone will step up. If not for their sacred duty, for the excitement.

[he mumbles the last but. unsure if he was grateful or annoyed with the prospect.]

Oh, but you studied at the scholasticate. Would you know someone by any chance?

[he finally pulls out and rolls onto his side facing francel. he begins to undress, so overheated from their actions.]

No one trustworthy...

[francel reaches out to help aymeric remove his clothes, but, well... he looks at the semen on his hands and has to reconsider. he flops back uselessly against the pillows.

he thinks on his time at the scholasticate — upset, unsure of himself, uncertain of his path, angry with the world, longing for haurchefant, thinking that the fury would fill the void in his heart... and then he looks at aymeric, and of how much happiness being at borel manor has given him, and smiles a dreamy smile.]

Lord Francel of House Borel? [it's a question.] Or... Ser Aymeric of House Haillenarte? [he laughs. that's a funny thought.]

I am sure we will find someone.

[he hums as he manages to get his shirt and coat off, finally naked in bed. He gives Francel a soft kiss.]

Would you mind becoming a Borel? I know my parents' bloodline ended with them, but... I still carry it in spirit. And whilst we cannot create any children... I suppose we could adopt? [he laughs a small, slightly overwhelmed laugh.] I apologize. I'm moving much too quickly. It must be the rush from the sex...

[francel has managed to get a handkerchief out of the nightstand — not his mask, thankfully — and is hard at work wiping himself clean. he smiles up at aymeric, and then returns the kiss.]

Lord Francel of House Borel has a fine ring to it. Oh, and I suppose he will have a fine ring as well!

[he laughs again and tosses the handkerchief on the nightstand, then rolls onto his belly to admire aymeric's wonderfully attractive body.]

...We can think of children some other time. Lest you forget, Lord Byron has yet to accept me as mistress of the house. I doubt he is ready for little lordlings prowling about his kitchen.

You shall have the finest of rings. [he throws an arm over francel's shoulders, propped on his side to similarly admire his lover.]

Ah, you are right, sadly. He would scratch up any child that dared go near him. You are at least tall enough to frighten him when he's feeling dour.

[he runs his hand softly down francel's back, then experimentally pressing his hand into francel's muscles as he does for him often.]

He tried to give me a nasty scratch on the shin today, actually! Fortunately, I was wearing those boots...

[the fact that thighboots are a necessity in borel manor would ordinarily be some cause for concern, but... it's hard to lecture aymeric about his cat's poor manners when he's beginning to give francel a very satisfying backrub.

the blond stretches out underneath aymeric's hands and motions vaguely toward his back.]

Would you undo the clasp for me? Ah... unless you would prefer that I keep it on. [he smirks impishly.]

I must apologize on Lord Byron's behalf. If it helps, he has given me my fair share of scratches. I believe he shows his affection in that manner.

[he gazes down at francel's back- at the flesh pulled in slightly by the tight garment. he can't place precisely what holds its eroticism.]

I don't think I can physically withstand to be any more aroused- not that undressing you will remedy that! Quite the opposite, really... [he laughs heartily as he straddles francel's little ass. he unclasps the frippery, then presses his large, powerful hands into the young man's back. he is met with relatively little resistance as he pushes the muscle around- based purely on his own strength perhaps.]

[a catlike smile plays about francel's lips as he feels aymeric's pleasant weight on top of him — then the loosening of the bustier, and then the breathtaking sensation of aymeric's thumbs kneading his shoulders. the groan that emerges from his throat sounds almost like a purr. he answers in the slave boy's voice.]

Shall I service you one more time, my lord? I was taught never to leave my master unsatisfied.

[francel's lithe body yields to aymeric's strong hands the way it always does: with an almost welcoming helplessness. one cannot help but be reminded of how delicate he is — and, indeed, since moving to borel manor he's become more delicate than ever: he's lost a little muscle and gained a little weight, though in a rather attractive way.]

By the Fury, leave something of me for tomorrow! [he says this with a jovial little laugh. even still, he hardens against francel's bottom. it was true that he'd gained a bit of fat. all of it very pleasant, and if asked behind a closed door, very erotic.]

Have you someone in mind to be your best man?

[he continues to work francel's back, determined to turn him into pudding on the bedspread.]

Mmmm...

[francel sighs contentedly and wiggles his toes. he is most certainly melting against the mattress — just a little more and he'll quiver with every roll of aymeric's thumbs.

haurchefant comes first to mind — it has been long enough, now, that francel can think of haurchefant and no longer feel sorrow cloud his heart. but it isn't possible for haurchefant to be his best man. for one moment francel wonders what haurchefant would look like in a white suit — and then decides he really shouldn't think about it at all.]

Truth be told, Lord Emmanellain comes to mind. But he is terrible with any sort of responsibility! And as for Stephanivien, well... something tells me he would show up to our wedding in his usual engineer's vest with oil on his cheek...

Aye, I would want Estinien as my best man. I'm not sure I could even find him by the spring— much less wrestle him into any sort of proper clothing.

Besides, it's rather complicated with him.

[he redirects his feelings into the knots in francel's lower back. they would have to get a more padded piano bench.]

Perhaps Ser Handeloup...

[he releases a breath] We could just elope?

We do have a dearth of responsible friends, don't we?

[francel laughs and buries his face into his pillow completely. his back is rather stiff from all the practice he's done today; his toes curl with the pleasure of having his knots unraveled. this, he thinks, is almost as good as a second orgasm.]

Hmm, Ser Handeloup and Ser Lucia as best men...

[francel thinks about that for a moment and then turns his cheek onto the pillow.]

...Mayhap we really should just elope.

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