stuck meme

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stuck meme

esuna off that paralysis Post toplevels, reply as usual. Hope you enjoy your quality time with your thread partner, now that you're stuck... 01. IN A CROWD — for bonus points: in a crowd, after an argument. 02. DEFENDING THE BASE — while you wait for reinforcements to arrive. Good luck! 03. ON A RAFT — or a manacutter or an airship or something, drifting towards a deserted island. 04. IN A RELATIONSHIP — that your thread partner is trying to break you out of. The relationship can be with someone else... or just your bed/pet/hobby/gambling habit. 05. IN A WAITING ROOM — while you're waiting to hear a healer/conjurer/physician/chirurgeon's assessment, and you really didn't want to run into anyone... or maybe you'd like some emotional support? 06. TRYING TO NAVIGATE — through the Ul'dahn marketplace, maybe, or Hawker's Alley, or any number of confusing Lominsan/Gridanian/Sharlayan alleyways. 07. STANDING GUARD — wherever might be applicable: outside the Rising Stones? Rowena's House of Splendors? Or maybe awkwardly in front of a bedroom with a near-stranger so that the person who hired you to keep watch can get it on inside... 08. WITH YOUR HAIR — caught in someone else's belt or leather sheath or inexplicable shoulder spike... oh, adventurers and their impractical clothing. 09. DELIVERING TERRIBLE NEWS — exactly what's on the tin. Sucks to be you. 10. DOING THE DISHES — at a restaurant where you forgot your wallet and couldn't pay the bill. 11. IN A LAKE — because this person caught you skinny-dipping and won't... go... away... 12. WAITING TO BE RANSOMED — in the actually-quite-loving care of some especially incompetent criminals. Enjoy being stuck! This meme was gently lifted off bakerstreet.

TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs

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[valhourdin]

Does it surprise you?

[ Zephirin's hand stays tangled in Francel's hair, resting atop the boy's head, until he withdraws it after a lengthy moment. On its way to the mattress, it brushes past the back of Francel's ear, caressing it, whether deliberately or by chance. ]

Mayhap he thinks himself a friend made through your first meeting.

[haillenarte]

Nnn...

[it has been many a fortnight since francel last had his ears stroked, and they seem even more sensitive than before for the lack of stimulation. for a moment, francel's sly coquettishness is replaced by dreamy bliss — but his coy attempts at seduction return as soon as the tingling in his ear passes. devilishly, francel pulls himself into the bed and lowers his head in zephirin's lap, quite clearly trying to earn himself a more thorough ear massage.]

...Ser Guerrique is very handsome, but Ser Zephirin is far more sensual.

[lord francel seems to have a strange idea of what a friend constitutes...]

[valhourdin]

[ The weight of Francel's head pillowed upon Zephirin's thighs spurs the starved beast roused in Zephirin's heart into prowling behind the bars of its cage, but they are yet sturdy; so long as Zephirin sets the pace, he maintains the upper hand. Though it has been many a fortnight since he last stroked Francel's ears, the knight remembers each previous time vividly, how potent the effect was on Francel. It is too late to alter their friendship's course, impossible to undo every sensual moment, but the boy's retreat, inviting his touch, relinquishes full control to Zephirin.

It demands little exertion to raise his hand from the bed but a few ilms, to brush a lock of hair into place at Francel's temple, to trail his fingertips along the outer edge of Francel's ear, and take its pointed end between them.

Francel's odd comment has the sound of reassurances given to mediate an imagined rivalry. It prompts distinct amusement, but perhaps, had Ser Guerrique discovered the napping seminarian in Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral that day, Zephirin and Francel might never have met. ]

I suspect he does not aspire to be sensual...

[haillenarte]

I supp... nngh...

[if zephirin watches the tiny, miniscule movements of francel's face, he will see all manner of tantalizingly unguarded responses: the way francel's eyes grow heavier with just that light touch to his ears; the way his short eyelashes and delicate eyelids tremble with the effort of staying fully aware; the way his tongue seems to weigh upon his bottom lip, reaching out as if to taste zephirin's fingers...

these sweet reactions are gone in a moment as francel succumbs to temptation, but also pulls himself together, and he closes his eyes and his mouth both. his comment on ser guerrique's handsomeness was more of a misguided attempt to arouse jealousy in zephirin, and he wonders how he should play it off now...]

...I suppose not...

But, mmm... I thought you would scold me for saying that.

[valhourdin]

[ Even vivid memories pale before the here and now as Francel responds immediately and Zephirin's heart tastes fresh, heady satisfaction. Ere long, however, the knight's fingers pause, a questioning arch to his brows, though Francel has closed his eyes in seeming contentment. ]

...'Twould be ill-advised only if the walls have ears. In the privacy of your chambers, I see no reason to scold you for your opinion or the truth.

[haillenarte]

Would you scold me for lying, then?

[francel's closed eyes do not open, but a smile plays about his soft, plush lips, and he adjusts the position of his head against zephirin's thighs.]

[valhourdin]

[ Inexplicably, it almost seems as if Francel wishes for Zephirin to scold him, seeking the key to provoking the knight into a specific reaction. The boy's head feels heavier in Zephirin's lap.

Remaining still, Zephirin studies the curve to Francel's lips. ]

What lies would you tell?

[haillenarte]

[francel cannot help the soft whine that emerges from his throat as his heart longs for more loving touches to his ear. he opens his eyes; he is pouting. his bottom lip is plump with discontent.]

...That I hate you.

[and yet he says it in a quiet, dreamy, utterly besotted voice, and he does not move his heavy head from zephirin's lap.]

That I hate you, and that you are the worst thing to ever happen to me. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

[valhourdin]

[ By the visible signs of his displeasure, Francel is sulking. By Francel's tone of voice, Zephirin can do no wrong.

As his hand's movements resume, Zephirin chooses to match Francel lie for lie, each one murmured evenly. His touches punctuate them, bestowed upon Francel's ear from earlobe to point. ]

Then I would scold you. You would know that I hate you as you hate me, and that I regret our meeting. That you mean nothing to me.

[ Zephirin's hand slides from Francel's ear to the boy's cheek, and then his chin. ]

[haillenarte]

[the lies have an odd effect on francel, especially when punctuated with the stroking of his ears. on one hand, he began this line of teasing, and he knows as well as zephirin that every declaration of hatred is in fact a declaration of love; on the other, it hurts even to hear such words pass from zephirin’s lips in jest, and francel’s pouting only seems to worsen despite his obvious pleasure at being petted. he is a fussy one. but then, is this not precisely the feeling he wanted? the sensation of being hurt by zephirin?

once the knight’s hand moves to his chin, francel drops the act, turning once more towards sweetness and honesty and light.]

...You mean everything to me...

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's thumb nears Francel's pout, settling just below his mouth. Each lie, they both know, reaffirms the magnitude of their feelings confessed, but it appears that Francel is indeed sulking. ]

Would you have me scold you even for this?

[ It is far too late to curb their friendship without driving Francel to mean his declarations of hatred. ]

[haillenarte]

...I wanted you to scold me because I want to see the sort of face you make when you are angry.

[francel dips his head just enough to press a kiss against the pad of zephirin's thumb. his eyes flutter open then — they speak of dangerous devotion and unyielding loyalty.]

But I like it better when you spoil me.

[valhourdin]

[ Francel's wish is a strange one, and one difficult to fulfill when the boy has done nothing to earn him even a spark of irritation, let alone Zephirin's ire. To understand it, Zephirin searches his memories, retrieving moments that incited anger in him; he imagines foul deeds, rampant injustice, power abused.

His anger is not directed at Francel, and it is no display of raw, unbridled emotion, no raging blaze. He has learned how to wield it so that it cannot consume him and cloud his judgment. It cannot become a weakness to use against him.

Carefully contained, Zephirin's anger is the lakes of Coerthas frozen over. For Francel's eyes, open and fixed upon him alone, he replicates a face devoid of expression save a tight set to his jaw that presses his lips together. ]

[haillenarte]

[wordlessly, zephirin’s expressionless mien takes on just the barest hint of anger, the same way a gentle breeze might carry a hint of the oncoming storm, and it is strangely, inexplicably appealing. zephirin’s anger is a thing that must be grasped. a stranger would not even see the shift in the knight’s emotions; francel hangs on to even the smallest twitch of his lips like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to driftwood.

somehow, the fact that zephirin is willing to show him such things is hopelessly endearing.

francel lifts his head from zephirin’s lap. he rises to his knees on the bed, legs straddling zephirin’s without forcing the man to bear his weight; in this position, his head is some distance above zephirin's, and he has to lift zephirin’s face with both hands before he claims a deliciously chaste kiss. for a moment, it is as if young lord francel is some taller, more sophisticated lover.]

...You are so very enchanting, my dear Zephirin.

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's icy anger melts away. Emotions restrained simmer beneath the surface, a shade of the hunger of moments prior — they hint at the potential for a deadly storm, were Zephirin's self-control wrested from him. Zephirin is not given to impulsive action, but he remains a man, not some machine built to possess none of the flaws of mortal men.

Francel's changed position disrupts Zephirin's pace set; the kisses and touches they indulge in, though chaste, are tantalizing, sensual. The knight's hands sink down onto the mattress, only to lift again and frame Francel's hips, trembling slightly. Eyes momentarily half-lidded blink fully open, meeting Francel's gaze turned upon him from above.

In Zephirin's expression, Francel found what he sought, but Zephirin is no closer to comprehending the boy's wish. ]

...It pleases you to see me angered?

[haillenarte]

It...

[how best to explain to zephirin this odd preoccupation he has with men of fierce and hardened steel? should he say that it is exciting? that it is exhilarating? to see zephirin’s anger, to imagine himself held at zephirin’s mercy?

no, francel cannot voice these thoughts aloud. to explain it would involve explaining how he felt when he was held by bandits; how relieved he was when a then-teenaged haurchefant came through the doors and killed men to see him returned to safety; how wonderful, how beautiful the young man’s expression of anger and bloodlust had been then...

but francel can explain one part of it, quite simply, and to do so, he leans closer and whispers hot breath into zephirin’s long ear:]

...It arouses me.

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's breath catches, almost a gasp for the sensation of Francel's murmuring into his ear, and his eyelids flutter and close. The ends of his fingers twitch against Francel's slender waist.

Perhaps a glimpse of his anger is in some ways not unlike the satisfaction he derives from Francel's joy, from the knowledge that he has the power to shape and enhance it. ]

...No more. [ Zephirin tips his head back, one hand no longer on Francel's waist, reaching up and touching the boy's inviting mouth. ] Not here.

[haillenarte]

Not here? Then where?

[that little breath, that little gasp, spurs francel even further; he has to swallow an impulse to kiss zephirin again, deeper, more aggressively, leaving him no room to protest.]

The door outside is locked... and I could do anything you wanted. You could lie back and enjoy yourself...

[once more, the young seminarian offers his sundry seductions, and asks for nothing in return. after a moment, however, he relents, knowing full well that zephirin is in no position to run away, and that he does not wish to make the temple knight feel trapped in haillenarte manor.]

...Of course, if you truly wish for nothing further, I can take the breakfast tray outside and leave you to your rest.

[valhourdin]

[ One kiss was not enough. Francel is temptation incarnate, sweetly offering more and more of himself for Zephirin's taking — he would extend his thorough care beyond massages and baths.

The previous day has taught Zephirin that he cannot trust his body to withstand pleasure. It craves what he denies it; Francel's touch is seared into his flesh. It paints filthy images to fill his mind, unbidden.

Zephirin discards them. He pulls Francel closer for but one more kiss, firmer this time, lingering upon the boy's lips.

Ending it, the knight's first response is another lie: ]

My only desire is a bar of soap. [ His gaze leaves Francel, traveling to the bedsheets. ] Elsewhere... my wish would be for you to lie back in my stead.

[haillenarte]

...Then your desire shall be granted, and your wish shall wait for another time.

[francel has what his heart demanded: the knowledge that zephirin does have wishes after all, even if he must recover from his wounds to see them granted. he presses his soft, tender cheek against zephirin's for a moment — but then, sighing, the young lord pulls away. slowly, he disentangles himself from the temple knight's limbs.]

...Then I shall take the breakfast tray outside, and come back with some soap. Would you like a tub of warm water and a towel as well? It would not be a proper bath, but you could clean yourself in bed, at least...

[valhourdin]

[ Postponed, Zephirin's half-formed wish is discarded like the thoughts that came before it. There is no place in all Ishgard where he might permit it free rein.

The knight's hands remain where they are a moment longer, one on Francel's hip, the other beneath Francel's chin, ere they withdraw from the boy's form when Francel moves away. Zephirin's own movements are somehow reluctant, rueful, but he nods, casting the breakfast tray a glance. ]

...You have my thanks. Allow me to carry the tray at the least.

[ He has the strength to walk to the door. ]

[haillenarte]

Are you certain?

[lord francel is prone to overfussing, it seems. he has taken the breakfast tray in hand, and is about to turn towards the door, but he pauses as he looks at the way zephirin is lying in bed.]

You seem so comfortable that I would hate to disturb your rest.

[valhourdin]

To the door, and no further.

[ So Zephirin gives Francel his word, resolutely testing his ability to stand unassisted. With his feet placed on the floor, palms on the mattress, he twists his torso to one side, and pushes himself up from the bed. Though his body protests, and stubborn pain wrings another gasped breath from him, the dizzy spells have abated.

Zephirin holds his hands out to take the tray. The walk to the door will give his senses the chance to better orient themselves in his surroundings, now that awareness no longer threatens to slip from his grasp. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel holds the tray out for the temple knight to take, but he remains wary of zephirin's tendency to push himself past his limits. the young lord allows the tray to merely rest in the man's arms for a brief moment before he cautiously relinquishes the tray's full weight.

that done, francel takes but a step backward to allow zephirin room to walk — however, he remains within a safe distance to catch zephirin, or the tray, should either succumb to the forces of gravity.]

[valhourdin]

[ Blood loss and days abed make for a mix that renders Zephirin's limbs feeble, but his drive to see a task through to its end is intact. Determination keeps the tray in his grip, and Zephirin himself on his feet, taking him across the stretch of floor from the bed to the doorway. Only then does he lean against the frame, proffering the tray to Francel, his cheeks paler.

He recognizes Francel's room, and his eyes light upon the young lord's toy rabbit. ]