gurabad | 020 » just know that you won't have to do this alone

[that laugh, gods, that laugh, almost pressed up against his ear, wonderfully deep-throated and somehow deliciously creamy... it takes every ounce of self-control in francel's body to prevent himself from groaning stop from behind his gritted teeth. his hands tense against the arms of his chair; he tries to think about anything except the growing ache between his legs.]

I was not — hoping for anything! I was hoping that you could help me — [whoa, not like that] — help me leave this place, I...

[with what limited movement he has, he squirms in his seat again, desperately trying to press his thighs together. as if that might conceal him from view now.]

This is just... how any man might react if...

[All pressing his thighs together is going to accomplish is creating more friction. He really should have more sense. Ryan continues to look at the inside of his other ear in silence for a good half a minute before setting the otoscope to the side entirely in favor of massaging the shell of his ear with his thumb and forefinger.]

If...?

[Though he doesn't plan on actually touching his cock (especially not without permission), Ryan is not at all above pretending he's going to do it. His other hand slowly begins to trail down Francel's torso. He's very much trying to goad him into taking action. Ryan's long fingertips draw little circles around the tense muscles of his abdomen, taunting in their motions.]

[though the intention is to goad francel into action, ryan will find that his actions have the opposite effect — the generous ear massage renders francel impressively docile. his limbs feel as if they've been turned to jelly, but his stomach flexes and tenses involuntarily beneath the researcher's fingers.

and even though francel has spent most of the examination with his gaze firmly fixed upon the floor, he can't bring himself to go on staring at his bulge beneath the blanket; he lifts his eyes toward ryan's face, his eyelids fluttering dreamily before they close...]

If... you...

[another groan, and the rest of that sentence is lost.]

Please — g-gods, please — I can f-feel — the pulse in your fingertips — it's — mmnh —

[here's some improvement: he's finally taken his left hand off the arm of his chair, but it's to muffle his mouth, not for any more productive purpose.]

[That level of sensitivity has Ryan simultaneously amused and just a little startled. It certainly wasn't his intention to walk in here and molest his subject, yet here he is turning him into a moaning, trembling mess. He has to look away when he lifts his gaze — it's too intimate.

Unfortunately for Ryan, he looks right where he knows one of the cameras in the room is hidden. That's right; people are going to see this. Griffith is going to see this, and after all the times he's lectured him on not being able to keep it in his pants God —

No. It's fine. It'll be fine as long as he gets the sample, doubly so if he can manage to make a viable embryo from it. Then he can just mock everyone else for not even bothering to think of questioning an obviously humanoid alien that speaks English. It's not as if he's going to get off himself anyway, though the thought does draw his attention to his own body's reaction to having this kind of power over someone. Disturbingly enough, he is somewhat aroused. At least he has a lab coat to hide it...

Looking at Francel is infinitely preferable to watching the camera, so Ryan's eyes fall back on the elezen's face. He is beautiful — something he didn't really take note of before because everything else held more interest. More importantly, though he seems distressed he's also definitely enjoying himself. His hand flying up to cover his mouth just confirms that. If he hated it, wouldn't he try to push Ryan away or at least say no rather than continuing to beg him? Emboldened, he reaches around to his other ear to give it the same treatment. He actually stops what he's doing on the one closest to him in favor of leaning in close enough that he'll be able to feel his lips move when he speaks. His voice is encouraging, almost sweet.]

You aren't wrong, you know. I do think that we could gather some useful data by taking you elsewhere and allowing you to try and return home. You won't ever see me again, so what's the use in shyness? It's painfully obvious you like this anyway, so you might as well just let go.

[Please say that's quiet enough that the camera won't pick it up.]

[if francel just had his right hand free, too, he'd have both hands over his own mouth right now. as it is, he can only gnaw at the knuckles of his left hand, nibbling at the skin with his teeth behind his lips in a vain effort to keep himself silent.

what is this man's motive, anyway? why sexually pleasure his test subject? curiosity? attraction? that's a possibility, but not one that he's willing to entertain for long: francel's blond hair and girlish features might be appealing to some otherworlder with a different sense of aesthetic beauty, but ishgard more favors chiseled jawlines and sloping cheekbones in its men — and francel has never considered himself handsome, nor does he think that ryan might, either. so is this, too, part of the exam? did this mysterious organization send their best-looking scholar specifically for the purpose of seeing how an elezen would react to this kind of stimulation?

if that's the case, he thinks, hazily, they made a damn good choice.

either way, clearly the researcher isn't going to stop. maybe he would if francel asked him to, but the young lord isn't going to tell him to stop, either — and in the end, the thought that he might not get another chance to do this sways his better judgment.

all thoughts of being a proud son of ishgard and the fourthborn son of house haillenarte quite out of francel's mind, he pulls the fingers of his left hand away from his lips and pulls the blanket a few inches lower on his thighs. his cock stands fully erect once it's freed of its cozy linen prison, completely undeterred by the flimsy and skimpy hospital gown that was covering it only moments ago; it's more or less proportional to his body and then some — off-putting to most humans, probably, but an exciting challenge for some others.

he wants to think about haurchefant, haurchefant's lips and fingers against his ears, crooning into them, sounding this sweet, but — shamefully — haurchefant's face doesn't come to mind when at last francel's fingers wrap greedily around his cock. instead, he thinks of haurchefant's older half-brother, artoirel, in part because ryan's dark hair and long eyelashes reminds francel of the man. and then ryan himself keeps interrupting francel's thoughts — gods, this will be the first time he's ever gotten off on a hyuran man —]

You're... you're an awful man. But — I suppose — so am I —

[he throws his head back and moans, shaky but completely uninhibited; his tongue rolls slowly over his upper lip, as if his arousal is so potent that he can taste it. his voice is trembling, half-breathed:]

Just — just keep rubbing, please, I beg you — at — at the t-tip of the ear, that's the best — mmmmh, and inside —

[If he had any intention of trying to handle that length himself, Ryan definitely would have run for the hills the second he saw it. Even in his peripheral vision it's a little intimidating — the size makes it feel far closer to his face than he would like even though it's a good distance away, and why did he have to throw off the sheet like that? Now any potential sample is going to go everywhere.

He did tell him to let go, he supposes.

His finger and thumb slide up the shell of Francel's ear to play with the tip of it as requested, and he stretches his pinky out to toy around just short of slipping inside his ear properly. If he hadn't literally just been looking into his ears he would be a lot more hesitant, but he knows they're clean.]

Like this? [he asks, tone somehow both innocent and insulting at the same time. Honestly he can't believe that the elezen is actually doing it, but having him comply undeniably gives him a little thrill. It's enough to push him to move just a bit so that he can suck the tip of the ear he's been speaking into, safe in the knowledge that there's no possible way he could be dirty when he's been in quarantine for a month.]

[the pumping of francel's hand only grows more desperate as ryan magnanimously satisfies all his requests. he groans and twitches with every movement of ryan's fingers, shivering with incredible sensitivity when ryan fingers his entrance — well, the entrance of his ears, anyway.

how did it come to this — being captured and degraded and now toyed with? clinging to carnal lust as if it will anchor him on this distant shore?

francel wonders, but he doesn't receive any answers — or rather, all questions and answers are quite neatly blown out of his head altogether when ryan starts sucking on his ears, and that — that is the one thing in the world that gets francel off the most, more than anything else. ryan's mouth sends a warm wet high coursing through francel's blood, like fire in his veins, filling his head with the sound of saliva and the intoxicating rumble of the man's voice.

and the pretty little elf just can't help himself, he's moaning, quite loudly, and whoever is in charge of watching the cameras is going to have a fabulous time with this particular recording:]

Yes — gods, yes — I love this, I l-love — aaaah, I c-can't even think, your tongue, your — nngh — p-praise, I'm so close, just a bit more, just a bit —

[an incredible high, an orgasm unlike any he's ever had, and he spills, wet and viscous, onto —]

[Being stuck without stimulation of any sort for a month really seems to have taken its toll on the poor man. He only had to do this much to drive him wild? Maybe that's just what people are like when they have sex. The few pornographic pop ups he's encountered would suggest as much, anyway. Having someone so reactive at his fingertips has his own arousal pooling to the point where it's becoming worrisome, but then —]

Wh—

[That release hits his bangs and his face with a wet plop, and though he tries to move back in time to avoid it it's to no avail. Horrified, he glowers down at Francel. He's about to accuse him of doing it on purpose when he realizes he should collect this sample as quickly as possible. Ruffled, he hurries away from the exam table to get a syringe to collect what he can. He rinses his hair and face afterward, then returns to the elezen's side to suck up anything there.]

Did you do that on purpose?

[francel takes more than a few moments to answer. he has to slowly come down from his high, with his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of his chair as he breathes heavily and indulges himself in every involuntary twitch of his body post-orgasm. the lab chair isn't exactly ergonomically designed, but the urge to fall asleep is an almost irresistible temptation; it takes a great strength of will to find his voice.]

...No. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't think I would... finish so quickly.

[the fact that ryan immediately starts collecting his semen isn't even a surprise, given that francel figured it was going to happen. obediently, he holds his hand out, open-palmed, to make it easier for ryan to extract the mess that got onto his fingers. he would be more scandalized at the thought of offering his seed to someone else if not for the fact that they've already taken his urine and blood samples — one more liquid can't possibly hurt.

he chuckles, slow and tired.]

It was not at all a bad look on you... though I imagine doing this with all your subjects must not be pleasant.

[If he knew what he was collecting it for, he would be quite a bit more upset no doubt. Ryan is calm enough as Francel comes down from his high, though he knows that he has an endless amount of raucous laughter and taunting to face the second he leaves this lab. He typically doesn't make mistakes, and when he does they're small enough that he can correct them before anyone else notices. As such, he's very much up on his high horse all the time making fun of everyone else and they're going to be extremely eager to tear into him in return.

As soon as he's collected as much as he can he sets the syringe to the side to clean the elezen off and get that semen slinging weapon of a dick tucked away again where it belongs (his view of it has definitely been influenced by recent events).

And then Francel says that, while his hand is on the aforementioned penis no less!]

Wasn't a bad — with all my subjects?! Just what are you getting at here?!

[the fact that ryan seems to be angry with him and is handling a particularly sensitive organ is definitely enough to wake francel from his sleepy stupor with a jolt. his now-clean left hand tugs awkwardly at the hem of his hospital gown (like he's been itching to do) as he thinks desperately about how he should look away from ryan's startlingly crimson eyes but can't at all bring himself to do so.

the blood that was only moments ago engorging his dick seems to have made it to his cheeks. he's flushed a bright pink as he stammers:]

Well, I — I assumed — that I am not the only alien you've taken such samples from...

[That's not enough coverage now. Ryan will pull the blanket back over him too. Well, more like yank it really, but it does the job.]

I'm not some sort of... lab slut!

[That's Griffith!]

You were the one who got it up just from someone examining your ears! At that point of course I'm going to just do it since no one else had.

I did not say you were a whore! I said you looked good!

[oh god that was the wrong thing to say entirely. backtrack, francel. backtrack.]

A-Anyroad, what do you mean, "since no one else had?" I find that offensive, sir! I — oh, very well, I've never — not with anyone else, but — I wouldn't have gotten it up if you had just been quick about examining them as I advised you!

[Don't say he looks good after that!]

I thought you might have some sort of — I don't know, gland in them that allowed you to process aether and cast spells! And I've never been with anyone, either!

[Ah... he just had a perfect stranger shoot semen into his hair and announced that he's a virgin all on the same surveillance tape. His life is over...]

Edited 2016-08-24 05:01 (UTC)

[at least his perfect stranger is a virgin, too... not that that makes things better, but... it could be worse???]

Well, you hardly needed to work my other glands while you tested that theory, but you seemed to enjoy doing that well enough!

[he needs to get back to ishgard. he needs to get back to ishgard and forget this ever happened so that he can stop thinking about the hyuran scholar with cum on his face. why did this happen. was this really worth a month of captivity.]

Just — ugh...

[he pinches the bridge of his nose with his left hand.]

...Is there anything else I must needs provide for your research?

[Oh no, he knows he enjoyed it on some level. How could he know?! Somehow that's beyond embarrassing. Poor Ryan turns scarlet, grabbing the tablet and the syringe. He'll neglect to strap down Francel's arm again just because he's that flustered, so whoever enters the room next might have to deal with him being on the loose. Undoubtedly he's going to be laughed at for that too.]

No. That's all, go to sleep.

[Go to sleep and forget he ever did this, goodbye forever. Maybe if he moves fast enough he can destroy the surveillance tapes before anyone sees them? Or before a bunch of people see them. He can probably threaten one person into keeping their mouths shut. Ryan turns on his heel and flees from the room.]

How am I supposed to sleep —

[too late, he's gone, leaving francel to gesture uselessly at the door and hang his head in his hand in disbelief. how in all the seven hells did it come to this.

maybe someone will come to take him out of the chair later?? maybe they won't ask him too many questions about his semen sample?? maybe??]

[not long after that incident, francel is moved to more spacious quarters.

or, well — maybe more spacious isn't really the right way to describe it. the quarantine chambers had been big enough, technically, but francel had been forced to spend his time in them with his hands and legs bound — sometimes in chairs, sometimes in beds, sometimes in straitjackets.

the new room is better. nicer. there's a bed, and a desk, and a chair. one wall is lined with narrow windows, too near the ceiling to comfortably open and close without some sort of stepladder, but they let in light so that francel knows what time of day it is. at the same time, he's not an idiot: he knows he's still a prisoner. the furniture is bolted to the floor. the windows are too narrow for him to slip through.

it's still a prison cell. just — it's a nicer one.

the researchers tell him that it's dangerous for someone of his species to be outside.

they send other scholars to talk to him, all of them with complex titles that francel doesn't quite understand. geneticists, wildlife biologists, physiologists, immunologists. some of them send him through strange machines; others wire him to them. a medical exam is conducted every week. the dentist keeps marveling at the perfect health and alignment of francel's teeth despite his apparent complete lack of dental hygiene understanding.

they're nice enough, but they laugh at him: sorry i'm not dr. walker — you must be lonely, you haven't seen ryan in weeks! — i'd put these headphones in your ears, but i don't know what i'm going to do if you come — i promise i won't touch your ears; i've got a cat, that's enough commitment in my life.

the most interesting scientist (they all tell him to just think of them as scientists) is a surprisingly friendly man who identifies himself as a psychologist and anthropologist; he is patient and kind, but he treats francel like a child. "do you know what an anthropologist is?" he asks, all too slowly.

"i have heard tell of a famed eorzean anthropogeographer," francel answers, cautiously, and for some reason, the man laughs.

the psychologist conducts an impressively long interview — about his life and his culture and his views on this and that — and after that visit, the shamrock employees start treating him a little better. francel half-suspects that some sort of company policy has been announced; suddenly, everyone calls him francel and not the elf, and sometimes they ask about ishgard, and, oddly, women stop coming in to check on him.

(the psychologist had concluded, among other things, that francel's sexuality and culture contributed to a general respect for but distrust of women, and given the intelligence of the subject, distrust may lead to compromised results. female employees are encouraged to send male proxies to administer experiments.

experiments administered by ryan walker may have unorthodox results.)

weeks drag on into months. francel starts asking, more and more often, if they will ever let him explore the world. he promises not to draw undue attention to himself; he promises, in effect, that he'll be good. none of this seems to have much effect until his mood sours. at that point — perhaps wary of the waste involved if their previously sweet and cooperative elezen subject decides to kill himself — someone, somewhere, agrees to have francel transported to a likely aether-rich environment.

based on the subject's descriptions of aether, the most likely location: the former wwi trench sites in france, abandoned and reclaimed by nature in the form of lush forests.

perhaps ryan walker is assigned to supervise francel on the trip because they think he'll be able to improve francel's mood.

(somewhere, griffith must be internally screaming at the thought of ryan with that elf again.)

francel is wearing wrist and ankle monitors, but it isn't as if he's planning to run off. on the contrary, he falls asleep waiting for ryan to board the plane; when he wakes up, he isn't sure if the airship is still in flight or if it's landed.

sleepily:] ...Doctor Walker?

Edited 2016-08-25 05:01 (UTC)

[While things have been easier for Ryan in the sense that he's not a prisoner and he's not being subjected to a litany of experiments, on the personal humiliation front he's right there with Francel. Ryan always knew that he had a long list of people itching to see him fail in any capacity. What he didn't know was how tenacious they would be after the fact! No amount of hilarious failures from other people decreases the novelty found in mocking Ryan, apparently.

Though he does get back at the worst offenders by spreading a particularly nasty substance on the earmuffs they'd taken to putting on whenever he walks in the room.

What finally, finally causes the teasing to taper off some is him successfully creating embryos from the sample he collected. It's hard to continue insisting Ryan only did it because he was into it when he gets actual results. A couple of the embryos even manage to take in surrogate wombs. Since Francel's mental state is already starting to decline by then, it becomes strictly forbidden to mention it to him. With something like that under his belt Ryan decides it's time for him to declare that he's taking a vacation. Surprisingly, his request is agreed to and even funded. When he receives a text while he's packing, he discovers why.

He's despondent without you, so take responsibility!

The real details of his assignment follow afterward. Honestly, he can't believe they're taking their little joke this far! But it does sound interesting, so he'll do it regardless. With hidden platform boots, of course. He can't let the balance of power be thrown too much, he might die.

Ryan ignores Francel initially as he straps his luggage into place. Usually someone would have done that for him, but he doesn't like to let anyone touch his things. Bereft of good reasons to ignore him after that, he settles down beside him with a small, resigned sigh. ]

Yes. Francel, correct?

[He knows. Of course he's been keeping up with him to some extent. He even sat in on some tests, though only the ones where Francel was unconscious or he was able to be in another room while observing.]

Mm...

[francel sits up straight, rubbing his eyes and then the bridge of his nose in an effort to recompose himself, but he still seems dazed when he turns his head to the left and blinks blearily at ryan. it's been months, sure, and perhaps he's just not remembering correctly, but something feels... off. hadn't ryan been much shorter during the exam?

...then again, ryan had been a lot of things during the exam.

a dull colour rises to francel's cheeks. better to just not think about that.]

...Yes. Are we — have we arrived at our destination?

[they haven't even taken off; he slept for fifteen minutes at best. really, with his sensitive hearing, there's no way francel would be able to sleep through the roar of the engine at liftoff — but he wouldn't know that. eorzean airships are a lot quieter, being magical and all.]

[He sees that slight flushing, and he can hear the laughter of the people he's working with already. At least these private jets are set up so that the passengers don't really have to interact with or see the pilots. Small blessings.]

We haven't even taken off yet. The flight will be roughly eight hours.

[Ryan fastens himself in as the pilot announces that they'll be taking off, then gestures to Francel.]

Buckle up.

[francel seems confused by the command at first, but he does get the picture after seeing how ryan is strapped in. he fumbles for his own seatbelt, slotting it neatly into place.]

Are your airships so dangerous that men even risk falling out of their seats?

No, it's just protocol. The sudden increase in speed upon taking off can cause people to topple over if they're moving.

[Poor Francel. The plane starts up, and even though the cabin has a lot of sound insulation he's still going to hear it during take off. There's also the slightly unsettling ear popping sensation as they get up higher. Ryan almost asks him what it feels like since his ears are different, but he thinks better of mentioning his ears in any context in a likely bugged cabin. Once the plane stabilizes Ryan unbuckles and stands immediately, walking toward the bed.]

I'm going to sleep.

[francel's cringing in his seat throughout the takeoff, with his hands over his ears and an obvious wince on his face. he peeks up at ryan after the noise settles, vaguely resembling like a child peeking out of his blankets after a thunderstorm despite his ridiculous height. he doesn't seem especially thrilled that ryan has decided to go to sleep.]

Wh... What? Already? You don't intend to sleep for the whole flight, do you?

[A kinder, more sociable person would feel bad just consigning someone to boredom like that. Ryan does not. This is better for the both of them, after all. Maybe he'll explain as much later, but saying "we can't talk now because people are listening" would give people even more fodder than just talking normally.]

Of course I do. You were sleeping when I arrived, weren't you? Just go back to sleep. Then we won't have to waste time once we get there.

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don't ask me to write starters: the tl;dr

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