gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

Stay, then. We'll rearrange the apartment, if need be.

[ Once more, Zephirin reminds Francel to make himself at home freely. Outwardly, there may be no indication of it, but warmth blossoms within his chest, akin to satisfaction.

Friends and colleagues have begun to comment on something different about Zephirin, of late — it's difficult to discern in a man not given to obvious displays of emotion, but he seems happier, at peace himself. ]

I'll admit to selfishness — I would be sorry to see you leave.

[ Finally, Zephirin moves his hand, adjusting its placement until his knuckles brush against the blade of Francel's ear. ]

I don't think that's selfish...

[francel turns his cheek closer to zephirin's hand as the man's fingers caress his ear; he opens his eyes, smiling at his beloved with dazzling warmth. he looks as though he would gladly die on zephirin's command.

perhaps, in a sad way, this is the part of francel that aucheforne couldn't stand — not his fragility, not his money, but the sheer depth of his love. the weight of someone else's heart is a heavy thing to bear, and francel gives so much of himself.]

Do you... do you feel selfish enough to want to hold me?

[ He has come close to holding Francel, doing nothing to discourage the boy's tactile habits, but it was never with any conscious intent to gain pleasure from it himself. His apartment was to be Francel's safe haven, and his touches a means of comforting the boy. Any traitorous wants woken inside of him, bordering on taking advantage of Francel in his vulnerability, would remain buried.

And yet, as Francel's face brightens with his smile, Zephirin's qualms dissipate. His answer for Francel is wordless — spreading his arms, he invites the boy into an embrace. ]

[francel leaps into this embrace like an eager puppy, taking his blankets with him; he encases zephirin in warm cloth as he wraps his arms around the professor's waist.

nothing about this is traitorous or selfish. francel looks so overjoyed at finding his feelings even partially reciprocated that denying him might have been more cruel than "taking advantage" of him.

eager and happy, francel nuzzles into zephirin's neck and presses a pair of chaste kisses into the corner of his jawbone, where his neck meets his ear.]

Ehehehehehe!

[ Zephirin's arms close around Francel with ease, beneath the blankets now shared between them. Subtly, his breath catches as the boy resumes his shy kisses, his rabbit-like nuzzling, all tempting warmth and tenderness.

Perhaps Francel has fallen in love with a source of kinder treatment, but the outcome is the same as it would have been if they had met to grow closer in happier circumstances — Zephirin holds the weight of the boy's heart in his hands, and he means to keep it from fresh hurts.

Turning his head slightly, he kisses a lock of Francel's hair where it is tousled into charming tufts. He murmurs two words into the boy's ear: ]

Thank you.

What is there to thank me for?

[beneath his covers, francel is deliciously warm, soft in all the right places, yet firm in other, more promising ways. he giggles when his hair is kissed; he clings to zephirin neither too tight nor too loosely, firmly encircling the man with his arms, both comforting and comforted.

again, it is difficult to imagine how aucheforne had the heart to mistreat him, when a francel in love is this sweet, this pure.]

I should be the one thanking you.

You have thanked me, as I recall — numerous times.

[ Zephirin's voice is warmer with a teasing note, still hushed. He succumbs to temptation, little by little, moving once more to stroke the same lock of hair that he kissed moments ago, and lets his hand wander lower, thumb brushing the corner of Francel's smile again. ]

I'd like to thank you for your continued company, as well as your honesty. Perhaps I should follow your example...

[ Leaning away an ilm or two, Zephirin places his hand beneath Francel's chin. Gravely, though the question isn't serious, he asks: ]

If I were to kiss you, would I be required to inform Civerege?

[the boy laughs at that, shaking his head at the thought of zephirin calling his housekeeper for what would amount to a father's approval. civerege is a good man, but he has other and better things to concern himself with, and he doesn't deserve to be pestered about francel's love life on his day off.]

You'll be required to keep it a secret from Civerege. That poor man doesn't deserve to be called every time I kiss or am kissed by someone.

[francel tips his head up, however, pursing his lips ever so slightly. his eyelids droop and close. evidently, he expects his kiss.]

[ Zephirin's heart savours this — Francel's laughter, the boy's anticipation, both unrestrained. And Francel isn't cruelly kept in suspense much longer. Closing the space between them, Zephirin kisses him, a chaste brush of their lips as gentle as Francel's kisses pressed to Zephirin's thumb and jaw.

He might deepen it, but for the moment, he merely awaits Francel's response, mindful of Aucheforne's genuinely selfish demands. ]

[francel accepts his kiss gleefully, though he seems mildly startled when zephirin backs away without deepening it, or pushing further. pleasantly surprised, he blinks, tilting his head to one side as if to gauge zephirin's reaction.]

...You kiss so gently.

[aucheforne was fond of more passionate pursuits — even in the peak of their honeymoon season, he was partial to gripping francel's hair as they kissed.]

[ Zephirin, in turn, assesses Francel's expression — most likely, exchanging such gentle kisses is rather vanilla compared to the boy's past experiences. Nevertheless, he seems to like it well enough, only curious.

Their faces a few easily closed ilms apart, Zephirin requests Francel's input. ]

How do you prefer to be kissed?

...M-Me? [the boy asks, as if somehow someone else is supposed to answer this question in this situation.] Um...

[it's hard to say that francel reacts badly to the question, but he doesn't seem to react favorably to it, either. he bites his lip as if troubled by the very thought of having to choose anything for himself.

what does he prefer? is this a test? if he answers incorrectly, will zephirin decide that he doesn't want this after all?]

No, that — that doesn't matter, does it? You can kiss me however you'd like to kiss me. The important thing is that you want to, so...

Edited 2019-01-01 19:44 (UTC)

[ Francel's uncertainty now speaks volumes: any preferences of his own didn't matter to Aucheforne, who must have stamped them out if the boy so much as tried to assert a single one. He has them, surely, pushed deep down inside of him where they couldn't be a bother to risk his ex-boyfriend's anger.

Even out of Aucheforne's reach, Francel retains his need to please. ]

I intend to. [ Zephirin has yet to pull away or release Francel; still he does neither. ] But if I would like to kiss you as you enjoy being kissed, I may fall short of that goal without your help.

[ It's an opening for Francel if he chooses to take it, but Zephirin won't pressure him into an answer. ]

But I... I'm fine as long as you're the one kissing me. I...

[more than just a little flustered, francel doesn't feel as though he has a strong preference one way or the other — but then perhaps it is as zephirin expects, that aucheforne's insistence that things be done his way has destroyed francel's ability to have his own opinions on things. the boy hesitates, watching a little lock of zephirin's hair flutter as he breathes. so pretty, he thinks absently. he doesn't deserve this beauty, this prettiness...]

I don't know. What if — wh-what if we kiss a few times, both ways? Maybe then I could... decide?

A good idea.

[ Francel's suggestion is an improvement, and his reward begins with an approving smile. Once more, Zephirin leans in, closer until their mouths meet, but this time, the kiss lingers; gently, he nips at Francel's bottom lip, tracing it.

There are, of course, other ways to kiss than taking it so slowly, but for now, Zephirin acts with caution for the sake of easing Francel into ascertaining what he enjoys. ]

[francel braces himself for a more demanding kiss, all tongue and teeth and hard, unyielding pressure, but zephirin surprises him with yet another soft, gentle kiss. the older man's lips brush questioningly against his, then nibble on his bottom lip; an involuntary jolt of nervousness runs through francel's spine, making his shoulders jolt forward.

this, he thinks, feels strangely nice. not as brief as the kiss from before — so brief that for a moment he found himself doubting whether or not it actually happened — but it's prolonged and gentle. tender. it makes him feel loved, and just a little anxious, like he is being investigated by an inquisitive wild animal, one that might change its mind and eat him at any moment.

fingers trembling ever so slightly, francel slides one of his hands over zephirin's back, between his shoulder blades. slowly, and somewhat timidly, he parts his lips, kissing back, sucking gently on zephirin's bottom lip in turn.]

[ Zephirin hasn't kissed anyone in a while, and he has never kissed anyone in quite this way, as if these are first kisses for him and Francel both, the two of them exploring unfamiliar ground together. To a degree, that is the case; their bodies are new to each other, to the discoveries to make as this kiss deepens. It isn't uncertain and fumbling on Zephirin's part, simply measured so as not to startle Francel, a gradual shift from tender and sweet towards something that hints at more beneath the surface, assuring the boy that his love is not unwanted.

Open-mouthed, the kiss turns hungrier, teeth and tongue and pressure — but appreciatively so, and Francel's reactions remain Zephirin's focus. So far, Francel has been receptive despite his nervousness, drawing closer instead of away even as he trembles. His time with Aucheforne doesn't cast its shadow over this moment, then.

When they part, Zephirin leaves his hand upon Francel's cheek, his gaze attentive as it flicks over the boy's features, from his eyes to his reddened lips. ]

[their parting leaves francel starry-eyed and breathless, panting quietly, looking at zephirin as though he has never before seen the man quite so beautiful, so raw. he feels weak in the knees, aching in a way that aucheforne never made him ache; his heart flutters violently in his chest.

and he wants more. he is certain that he wants more.

he never felt this way with his first boyfriend. he never even felt this way with his first love.]

...That... that was good...

[ Francel's verdict settles the matter decisively: this has brought the both of them enjoyment. What Zephirin sees written in the boy's expression now is deeply gratifying, appealing. He smiles, caressing the curve of Francel's cheek with his thumb. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ This is only a first step towards something more, the door opened. Though they might keep going where they are — might be tempted to do just that — it's getting late, and they have their respective classes to attend tomorrow. ]

Unfortunately, it's nearly past our bedtime...

[zephirin speaks only the truth, but francel is not so easily convinced to relent. he bites his lip, nodding his assent, but his eyes sparkle with greed, even as he retreats some few ilms, taking his warm blankets with him.

aucheforne never let him argue — never let him talk back — but zephirin has been kind to him. he decides to try and bargain.]

I-If I do well on my exam tomorrow, will you... I mean, um... can we can we do more?

[perhaps that wasn't the best of offers. professor charibert de leusignac most likely will have not been kind to francel, after all. he tries again.]

O-Or we can, um... I mean, I can do whatever you want. I'll make dinner or...

[ Francel isn't alone in wanting more, but the boy seems to believe himself so, judging by his efforts to offer Zephirin something in exchange for his affection. Arching a brow, the professor takes his hand from Francel's cheek as they move apart, only to hold Francel loosely in his arms, over the blankets. ]

On its own, doing more gives me all that I would ask of you. [ It's hardly something that Zephirin yields reluctantly. ] It's the end of the week, so we could be less strict with ourselves then — whether or not you do well on your exam.

[ Again, Zephirin's lips quirk slightly. ]

You've been making progress, however. Don't forget that.

[at first, francel nods along, understanding — but the professor's final comment seems to miss its mark. his thin brows furrow as he stares at zephirin uncomprehendingly.]

Progress..? I've raised my average from a C+ to a B, but I don't think it's possible for me to get an A unless I get a perfect score on the final. Which... well, yes, I don't think that's possible.

[francel has the wrong idea of progress, it seems.]

[ Francel's improved average is definite progress in Professor de Leusignac's class — it's exceedingly rare that the man deigns to give any student a perfect score, ever swift to find some flaw to mark them down. At home, his progress can't be measured according to a grading scale, but his improvement here is just as encouraging, despite the few moments when he almost backslides.

Zephirin unmistakably wears a smile, as if he has a secret to share with Francel. When he leans in now, he does so to secure his arms around the boy, intending to lift him out of the armchair. ]

You'll be rewarded regardless.

[ Not for his grades, specifically, but for expressing his wants. ]

[it's been many long years since anyone thought to try and pick francel up, but he remembers what it feels like, and he instinctively secures his arms around zephirin's neck in turn, to make carrying him a bit easier. he leans his weight into zephirin's arms, staring up at the professor with a sleepy, adoring smile. he answers in a somewhat babyish tone.]

I like being rewarded. Will it be something good?

I would hope so.

[ Sober and awake, responsive, Francel is easier to pick up and carry through the apartment than he was after Emmanellain's get-together, fast asleep. The boy is tall, nearing Zephirin's own height, all long limbs, but the professor adjusts Francel's weight in his arms with ease, holding Francel against his chest.

Together, they leave the hallway behind them, and cross the bedroom floor. Zephirin carefully transfers Francel to the mattress once there, evidently not intent on monitoring the boy's dental hygiene in earnest. The bathroom is Francel's first nonetheless — Zephirin takes a seat beside him, on the edge of the bed. ]

037 » on and on we carry through the fear

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