dpscheck | stuck meme

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Francel the chirurgeon was unperturbed to see and touch another man's bare skin; Francel, dressing Zephirin in his brother's finery, grew unexpectedly flustered. The Francel who draws nearer and nearer now is a sensual being, appearing at ease with his own body fully exposed, and he assists Zephirin in divesting himself of his remaining layers of clothing as if they are longtime lovers.

Zephirin's tunic slides to the floor, baring his still-bandaged torso. His wounds are sealed, their dressings best removed, but faded and fresher lines of scarring decorate his skin. Beside Francel, the knight looks markedly pale and gaunt.

He has yet to voice his request. Contemplatively, he resumes watching Francel's graceful fingers, lapsing into silence.

They are alone. Thoughts of the Fury's judgment do not plague Zephirin — thoughts of Francel are like to haunt him.

At length, Zephirin rests his free hand over Francel's, though the boy requires no help to rise. ]

Pray give me leave to wash your hair.

[the young lord pauses, surprised — then he leans in, affectionately rubbing his cheek on the back of zephirin's hand. though, since his own is currently in the process of undoing zephirin's pants, this naturally necessitates bringing his face rather close to zephirin's groin...]

Would you do me such a kindness? I'll enjoy that ever so much, my love...

[with overflowing enthusiasm, francel presses kisses to zephirin's knuckles, all the better to signal his acquiescence.]

[ Francel's loving mouth dots kisses upon Zephirin's hand, no other place, but the knight's pulse quickens in traitorous anticipation. A step closer, Francel on his feet, the smooth expanse of the boy's skin would be within reach, and Zephirin knows with certainty that Francel welcomes his touch.

In lieu of allowing his fingers to roam, he merely turns his hand over, cradling Francel's cheek. ]

Is it a kindness if I desire the same in return?

It is still a kindness, dearest — and one I desire all the more for its being by your hand.

[they speak of kindness, yet francel looks positively devious as he rises to his feet, then wraps his arms around zephirin's neck with coquettish glee. he tugs curiously at the end of one of zephirin's chest wrappings, wondering whether or not he is allowed to remove it now. the knight's gauntness does not seem to deter him — on the contrary, francel is simply all the more determined to nurse zephirin back to the glossy fitness of their secret massage days.]

How shall I sit for you? Shall I float in the tub? Or merely sit in it while you sit upon the sides?

[ Zephirin catches a glimpse of Francel's expression ere the boy embraces him — another step, and they stand skin against skin, no cloth barriers left between them save Zephirin's bandages. The knight leaves them be. Almost of their own accord, his hands wander after all, stopping just above Francel's hips, fingers splayed against the boy's tender sides. Though Zephirin's skin tingles with fever, too sensitive, Francel is pleasantly warm.

Zephirin neither guides the boy closer, nor restrains him. He lingers as he is a moment longer, then looks beyond Francel at the bathtub, lowering his hands and offering his suggestion. ]

Let us both sit in the water — facing each other, or else I shall sit behind you, Joacin.

[with a pleasant giggle, francel stands on tiptoe — though he clearly doesn't have to — and kisses zephirin full on the lips. it is as though he does not in the least fear catching the knight's sickness. his work complete, however, francel draws back, then darts away to the water, eager to feel zephirin's hands upon his head. he slips into the tub with an audible sigh for the temperature of the water.]

Then join me, sweet Zephirin, and make haste! The water's warmth is perfect as it is now, and I would have you feel it as I do.

[ These are teasing touches, and they seem deliberately so, each one just enough to tantalize Zephirin's senses. He is caught in Francel's web woven, loath to tear free.

Gaze following the boy as he settles in the tub, his form partially obscured then, Zephirin sheds the strips of linen wrapped about his torso, and joins Francel in the water. A soft, contented sigh leaves the knight's lips, too; the water's warmth envelops him, soothing to his weary limbs.

He does not savour it overlong, taking up a bar of soap and approaching Francel, rubbing the lather into the boy's hair with gentle fingers. Carefully, his fingertips massage Francel's scalp, sliding downward past the back of his ears to the nape of his neck. ]

[in another world, perhaps, francel could have been a ~~plushious~~ wonderfully soft little rabbit; in another world, perhaps he would have made soft gurgling noises while zephirin stroked his head and ears.

alas, francel is a full-grown elezen man in this world, but he does bow his head with eager anticipation before zephirin even touches him, and he groans appreciatively as the knight begins to work soap into his hair.]

Mmmm... scratch a little harderrrrr...? ♪

As you wish.

[ It is a compromise of sorts, to touch Francel whilst keeping within certain boundaries, lest they hurtle ever closer towards a point of no return. Zephirin takes his time, their goal a thorough scalp massage for the moment, rather than simply cleansing their bodies, but eventually the soap must be rinsed from Francel's hair, and Zephirin's hands sink beneath the water's surface, resting at his sides.

Droplets of water trickle down Francel's skin, along the slope of his shoulder — Zephirin's eyes trace their path. ]

[massaged into melty goodness, francel seems content to wear his crown of suds for a time... but then he sinks beneath the water to rinse his hair clean, leaving a wake of bubbles on the surface.

another beat, and francel resurfaces with a loud splash, suddenly too-close to zephirin. he is thoroughly wet now. beads of water roll down his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his chest — all of them tantalizing, leaving him ticklish.]

...That was good!

[ Zephirin's request would have Francel take his turn to wash the knight's hair next, but Zephirin does not pick up the soap and hand it to the young lord. When Francel breaks the water's surface, ilms away, wet skin catching the light, Zephirin's hands lift once more — the left intercepts a trail of water glistening on Francel's cheek, and halts there. Again Zephirin appears pensive, regarding the boy's features. ]

...May I amend my request?

[ It is not enough to permit Francel's touches, to kiss Francel on command. ]

Hmm?

[already francel's hands are halfway to zephirin's head, ready to return the favor granted him. halted in his tracks by zephirin's question and inquiring fingers, however, the young lord settles for resting his warm hands upon zephirin's bare shoulders instead. with faux innocence, he quizzically tilts his head to one side.]

Of course. What would you like? Anything! Name anything at all.

I would kiss you, Joacin.

[ Unprompted, confiding in Francel and entrusting to him the proof that he is not alone in his desires, for all that Zephirin has reined in his own thus far. Having announced his intentions, the knight leans close, taking hold of Francel's chin as he presses this kiss to the boy's mouth. It is a promise that Francel's love is not unwelcome, a pledge to go on guarding their secret. ]

[this — this is unexpected.

unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome, not at all. francel melts into the kiss without a second thought; he throws his arms around zephirin's neck, keenly aware of the wet heat between their bodies, the seductive warmth of the bathwater. not content merely for a chaste kiss, francel tilts his head for more, nibbling lovingly at zephirin's lips, his tongue. he trails his tongue along the sensitive inside of zephirin's mouth.

when at last he parts for breath, satisfaction roars in his breast, then settles into a pleased rumble.]

...Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to do that?

[ Zephirin's eyelids flutter open, but he has yet to step back; his hands have drifted from their initial placement, palms warm against Francel's hips. What began chastely deepened into an expression of unfettered need, and Francel's lips look bruised for it, somehow becoming. ]

I have an inkling...

[ Like as not Francel would have preferred kisses received each time that he kissed Zephirin. Perhaps he even hoped for something more to come of their very first evening as chirurgeon and patient.

Zephirin's left hand returns to Francel's cheek, cupping it with a hint of regret. ]

My request is not yet fulfilled, however.

[francel seems to flutter before zephirin, wearing just the faintest hint of concern over zephirin's hint of regret. is the knight unhappy that it has come to this? did francel push too far?

slowly, he reaches up and entangles his fingers in the fine blond locks of zephirin's hair, scratching lightly over and through his scalp. the young lord is doing his utmost to be soothing — and his reddened lips promise a world of comfort.]

What more would you ask of me?

[ Zephirin begins his answer by curling his fingers around Francel's wrists, loosening the boy's hands from his hair, denying himself their touch. To assuage Francel's unease, he brushes his lips against Francel's fingertips, his palms, the pulse beneath delicate skin. Though Zephirin's grip holds Francel's arms in place, he takes care not to cause the boy discomfort.

Beads of water still cling to Francel's shoulders — bowing his head, Zephirin kisses them away, traveling a path from one shoulder to the side of Francel's neck. ]

...Zephirin?

[francel is perfectly pleased to have his wrists held captive by zephirin's hands, but these tender and generous kisses do not serve to answer his question, not exactly. again, francel wonders if he pushed too far. he wears a strange mixture of happiness and concern upon his face; his cheeks are slightly flushed.

when zephirin's lips carve their path over his shoulder and neck, the young lord shivers with pleasurable distress.]

[ Briefly, Zephirin pauses, casting Francel a curious glance, but soon he continues his search for something that he cannot put into words — their cravings eased, perhaps. This is the extent of his request to kiss Francel, and he moves unhindered, his focus unimpeded, exploring ilm after ilm of soft skin, breathing the sweet scent of Francel's soap. His trail of kisses follows the curve of Francel's jaw, leads Zephirin downward past the boy's collarbones.

Zephirin's hands maintain their hold on Francel's wrists. ]

Zephirin...

[zephirin's focus, the singleminded persistence with which he explores francel's body — his sheer intensity sets the lordling's pulse aflutter, and francel cannot get enough of it. he closes his eyes, swallows hard on a sharp hungry pang of saliva in his mouth; his throat bobs against zephirin's lips. he craves these touches with agonizing need.

francel's ilms and ilms of skin are buttery-smooth, softened by warm water. his many sensitive reactions are varied and deliciously minute. the ghost of a breath along his jaw makes his shoulders twitch; a single lingered moment along his collarbone leaves his thighs squirming with greed once again. the only part of him that is still are his wrists held in zephirin's hands — proof of his surrender, of his consent, that he wants this, that he will not struggle.

still further proof is his whispered plea:]

...More?

[ Zephirin's heart echoes Francel's plea, greedy itself for each response drawn from Francel, its cage unlocked at last. Freed, it discovers heady pleasure in mapping the lines of Francel's body, and it savours this, hungrily compelling Zephirin to press his lips to the pulse in Francel's throat, to the center of the boy's chest when the knight kneels in the water. Zephirin's gaze flicks upward then, lingering on Francel's closed eyes and flushed cheeks.

He releases Francel's wrists to free his hands — they come to rest on Francel's thighs instead, beneath the water's surface once more, as if they mean to stroke the boy's squirming into stillness. The bathwater laps at Francel's waist as Zephirin leans back in, leaving another kiss above the boundary line it demarcates. ]

[instinct and instinct alone drives francel to push himself out of the water, to seat himself upon the bathtub's edge. for once in their bizarre and beautiful friendship, he is not driving towards any particular end; he does not have any particular goal in mind. he knows only that zephirin cannot comfortably kiss him beneath the water, and that he needs these kisses, needs them from head to toe along every sweet stretch of skin he has. for a moment, francel wonders if they — if either of them know what they are doing. he feels certain that he does not know what he is doing.

but the truth is that he does know — and zephirin must know, too.

francel waits, patiently, at the water's edge; zephirin's hands rest upon his thighs. his body stands at attention, dripping wet, wonderfully welcoming. he is only slightly conscious of the fact that his breath has started to come a little shorter, a little heavier.

the fantasy of an impossibly lascivious little lordling for a lover must lull many a weary temple knight to bed at night.]

[ Zephirin's eyes sweep over Francel's form; upon noting how eager Francel is for more, the knight smiles faintly. Had they the time, and easier reach, he might cover Francel's entire body in kisses at his leisure, prolonging these precious secluded moments, this taste of dangerous freedom, to commit all of Francel to memory until the boy seeks mercy anew.

Zephirin remains on his knees at Francel's feet, and smooths his hands down the sides of Francel's thighs, around the front. He coaxes them apart, allowing him to lower his head and place a kiss on Francel's hipbone, two more on each thigh. For now, only his breaths tease Francel's arousal — and then Zephirin glances up. ]

Have you waited for this, too?

So long...

[somehow it does not feel like enough to say this only once.]

So long... I almost thought it was not to be. I thought you would never look at me in — in this way...

[covetous love drives francel to plant his fingers upon zephirin's jawline and stroke adoringly toward his chin. his eyes are full of wants. zephirin is so close, so close, so close — he twitches with maddening desire.]

Of course, I would have loved you nonetheless...

[ Francel answers as though he has waited an eternity, torturous years instead of the moons since they met among the pews of Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral. Perhaps he waited for any source of companionship, yearning for intimacy, but it makes no difference now, when the boy has gifted Zephirin with his devotion time and time again.

Even this is strangely arousing.

As Francel reaches out, touching him after all, Zephirin's lips part slightly on a sharper breath of his own. One of his hands finds Francel's, trapping it where it is.

Perhaps they already stand at that point of no return. ]

It should not be... but it is my wish to keep you from harm, not to do you harm myself. And I would reward you for your patience.

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