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

[ 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.

Do I deserve a reward...?

[francel's eyes sparkle with greed. once upon a time he longed for sweeter things — companionship, a friend, a lonely plush rabbit in a toy store window — but now he wants nothing more and nothing less than undivided attention from the man kneeling between his legs. he has already been blessed with it before — but he needs more, needs more, needs more...]

Do I? Have I earned one, Zephirin?

[it is plain to see what answer francel wants to hear —]

[ Francel's greed seems that of a puppy begging for treats — it would take a heart of stone to withstand him. In truth, Zephirin cannot claim that his wish is but selfless recompense for Francel's patient suffering, for the knight visibly enjoys their illicit closeness himself.

Francel must suffer through a few moments of suspense while Zephirin appears to consider his question, motionless, but in the end, the boy receives an answer that promises him more. ]

Perhaps you have a request to make of me?

[francel, too, stops to consider zephirin's counterpoint for a moment; the suspense makes his body feel taut as a newly-strung bow. he aches with a desire he did not know he could feel.

it is so easy for francel to forget that an entire world exists outside of zephirin's love.]

Your lips...

[he whispers this with a fascination bordering on worship, with the same feverish desire that a man might call his lover's name...]

I want... to feel your lips... wrapped around me. [he takes a moment to wet his own, his pink tongue peeking out for just a moment —] When you asked me where you might kiss me earlier, I — all I could think of was how your mouth might feel if you kissed me there and — oh, Zephirin, I'll make a terrible, terrible priest, won't I?

[ Zephirin has never entertained the notion of taking a man's member into his mouth — nor elsewhere, for that matter — but Francel's whispered confession plants the thought in his mind, and the images that blossom there are not unappealing. How might it feel to kiss every ilm of Francel's body indeed?

Zephirin's fingers thread through Francel's, grasping the boy's hand and guiding it lower, between his thighs. ]

Here?

[ Francel's meaning is clear, yet Zephirin does not hasten to fulfill this request immediately, in part to collect himself and contemplate his approach, in part for Francel's palpable anticipation. ]

I suppose you would think of it no longer, once you have your answer, leaving you free to pursue priesthood.

[ If a good priest is defined by his chastity, then Francel might make a terrible priest, but privately, Zephirin deems other virtues of greater value. ]

[once his hands are guided to his arousal, francel's self-restraint absolutely melts away; he gasps alluringly, squeezing himself tight, moving his fingers up and down as if his very life depends on his release.

his eyes are focused wholly on zephirin's face — he drinks in the subtle flickers of the temple knight's expressions like a parched man at a mirage oasis. whatever the young lord's moral or religious failings, there can be no doubt that only zephirin holds this power over him — this sway.]

I'll only want more, if you — if you give me this. If you give me this, Zephirin, I — my every waking thought, my every breath, they can be yours...

[ Whether promise or warning or threat, the words tighten Francel's web, whispering to Zephirin that he has made Francel's heart his responsibility, that he knows too much of its wants, that he must keep it safe. In all Ishgard, Francel has only Zephirin to turn to for refuge at his most vulnerable.

The boy's hand moves against Zephirin's palm, all of him in plain view as he strokes himself with mounting desperation — elevated upon the edge of the tub, Francel is a sinner's altar, before which Zephirin yet kneels.

The knight shifts slightly beneath the water, aware of his own body's discomfort, and draws back until his hands lie flat atop Francel's thighs, nearer to the boy's knees. ]

You would give me too much... What do you ask in return?

[francel's heart thuds against his chest, drumrolling towards the end of his innocence. through the steam and the water, he can see plainly that zephirin, too, is not unaffected; he has to swallow on his desire to see the knight similarly pleased. how different would this be, if their positions were switched? how enthusiastically would francel press kisses to zephirin's length, and hum with pleasure at the taste of zephirin's satisfaction?

the thought spurs the young lord's hands faster — but then he regains control of his mind, squeezes himself incapable of release, moaning low in the back of his throat. he does not want to end this by himself again.]

I — mmmnh — I... ask only that you think of me... every now and then...

[it is an innocent way to phrase his wish. what francel really wants is to haunt zephirin — to linger in the darkest corners of his heart, visit his waking fantasies, remind him every now and then that he once knew the pleasures of a lordling who offered him paradise on earth.]

I do.

[ This wish is already granted, ever since Francel claimed a piece of Zephirin's heart solely for himself. Not seldom, it turned the knight's thoughts toward his friend, and it will remember this day as it remembers a now-sizeable trove of memories.

Francel's fingers flex and curl, restraining himself, as prettily as they once played Zephirin a song composed for him. The knight leans forward between Francel's legs, brushing his lips against the boy's knuckles, not unlike his chaste kiss of moons ago. Once more, he covers Francel's hand with his own, his mouth tantalizingly close to Francel's flushed shaft, though they delay Francel's release together.

Zephirin's eyes flick briefly to Francel's face ere he succumbs to one more exception to make at last, kissing Francel as desired, tasting him. ]

[a spectacular gasp, a positively salacious whimper; zephirin's concession is immediately rewarded by a lovely series of lordly reactions, and francel is delighted to be able to offer them. his lashes flutter prettily over flushed cheeks, and the hand that is not beneath zephirin's moves from the man's jawline to the back of his head.]

Mmmmm, yes — yes...

[ Abruptly, Zephirin withdraws his touch — for the moment, it seems, Francel may not continue touching the knight, not today. Though he recalls the innocuous pleasure found in massage, and Francel's fingers would no doubt ease even the aches brought on by a fever, Zephirin takes hold of the boy's wandering hand, seeking another place for it.

Francel retains the freedom to touch himself alongside Zephirin's caresses. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject