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

[ If not for this kiss, tenderly given, Francel's answer might have invited further teasing, but their lips touch briefly and chastely, and it seems that they will turn from temptation, their hunger sated at last. Though Zephirin's aches are eased, his skin is still too warm; Francel is right to speak of resting. ]

Under my Joacin's care, this fever will break ere long, I am certain.

[ He was not so fever-addled that it made him oblivious to Francel's straining to carry him from the manor's parlor to his chambers, or that he has forgotten that they both meant to rest, prior to falling into sin together. Zephirin should not overexert himself, but he has the strength to pull Francel down onto the mattress with him, perhaps as the young lord would take his toy rabbit into his arms. ]

[though francel was of a mind to kiss his zephirin good-night, and tuck him into bed, and retreat to his own chambers, he infinitely prefers this invitation to lay beside him all evening. the plush rabbit will have to sleep alone tonight, but that is fine; the plush rabbit will have many and more nights to spend with francel, whereas zephirin will only stay with his joacin until he is recovered.

the thought of zephirin's departure makes francel's heart heavy with hurt.

he finds a safe space beneath zephirin's chin to rest his nose.]

...Then I shall stay by your side, and offer you all the tender care I can muster.

[ Zephirin's fever worsens ere it breaks, bringing him fitful bells of disjointed dreams. Dimly, in moments betwixt sleep and wakefulness, he is reminded of similarly vexing a childhood illness — fortunately, he retains the presence of mind not to imagine himself much younger again, let alone mistake Francel for his mother. When at last his illness loosens its grip, he sleeps as though his body was starved of rest for moons and now demands their equivalent packed into the few days of respite it is granted under Francel's roof.

In the early hours of the fourth morning greeted at Haillenarte Manor, Zephirin wakes fully rested. His fever is vanquished, his Joacin's tender care a most effective remedy.

The knight stirs upon his mattress, lifting his head from his pillow, and gazes about for a sense of the time, for his bearings after sleeping so uncommonly deeply. The room is yet too dark to discern aught more than vague shapes, but Zephirin's eyes seek Francel, too.

It borders on a routine, as if it is their custom by now to begin each day side by side. ]

[francel is asleep beside zephirin, but he has not been so the whole night. throughout the evening, he tended to zephirin's fever and refused to fall into deep sleep; on the passing of each hour, he rose from bed and passed a moist cloth over zephirin's brow, his face, his neck.

now, the half-filled tub of water rests upon the bedside table. the cloth, half-dried, rests in zephirin's lap, dislodged from his forehead when he woke. and francel, for his part, stirs from his light slumber, fingers groping for purchase along the edge of zephirin's sleeve.]

Zephi...

[he mumbles inaudibly — then his hands still. zephirin's beloved joacin appears to be still asleep.]

Edited 2018-04-07 19:10 (UTC)

[ Slowly, Zephirin's eyes adjust to his darkened surroundings, which grow less so soon enough as the night gives way to dawn. He spies the damp cloth in his lap, the basin beside the bed, and Francel's fingers loosely curled in his sleeve — they mopped Zephirin's brow countless times to cool his burning skin, this he knows despite his hazy recollection of his delirious moments.

Loath to risk waking the boy, Zephirin lowers himself back into place upon the mattress, turning onto his side to face Francel. The day has barely begun, and although he is ill no longer, under obligation now to take his leave, he would stay at least until he can be certain that his diligent chirurgeon will not fall ill himself.

Zephirin reaches across the gap between them, cupping Francel's cheek. ]

[francel's cheek is round and wonderfully soft; his skin feels remarkably delicate to the touch. suddenly, the boy's face grows rounder, pressing up against zephirin's palm — a subtle smile plays about his lips. evidently, he likes having his face cupped.]

Ze... nn.

[for a moment, the young lord's eyelids flutter open, but he appears to have not woken fully. mumbling inaudibly, he wraps his arms around zephirin's waist and squeezes weakly — just as he might squeeze his beloved plush rabbit.]

G'morn...

Edited 2018-04-10 15:39 (UTC)

[ Suspended in drowsy contentment, Francel might slip back into much needed slumber, and Zephirin remains still in the boy's embrace, moving only his thumb to stroke Francel's cheek, and then to brush aside the fringe of his hair. Lightly, the knight's lips touch Francel's smooth brow, a gesture that doubles as a greeting and an extended assessment of Francel's temperature. Zephirin draws away once satisfied with his findings. ]

'Tis an early morning, to rise with the sun.

Mmm....

[no fearsome fever wracks francel's delicate frame; no beads of sweat linger upon his brow. he is full of sleepy warmth, however, even as the sensation of zephirin's lips upon his brow pushes him closer to wakefulness. the young lord draws his body closer against his temple knight's, relishing this touch, this contact.]

Matters not...

[a contented sigh. he, too, presses a drowsy kiss to zephirin's chin.]

It matters not to me so long as I rise with you.

Mayhap I ought pay the sun no mind, then, that you might stay abed for a time.

[ They cannot shirk their duties; once more, the hour of Zephirin's departure approaches, but while Francel rests and recovers from his burdens willingly shouldered, they have some remaining bells to themselves. Zephirin has no qualms spending these bells watching over his Joacin as the boy watched over him, sharing each other's warmth and exchanging sleepy, indulgently lazy kisses. Broaching the subject of goodbyes may be postponed.

Beneath the covers, Zephirin's arm settles across Francel's body, though he discreetly shifts his own away from the boy's by a few ilms, lest their closeness rouse parts of him like to desire more. ]

[even in his sleepy state, francel is conscious of the fact that zephirin is in better health now, that his beloved temple knight must return to the garrisons where his meager pallet awaits him and ser guerrique will welcome him with brawny arms. he knows his time with zephirin is limited. again, he fantasizes briefly about keeping zephirin in his room forever — even forcibly, if need be.

despite the fact that he rests with eyes closed, however, the boy's expression seems to darken when zephirin shifts away from him. pouting, francel seals the distance between their bodies, pulling himself closer against his knight. covetously, he presses his hips against zephirin's.]

Stay with me...

[ Francel's sleep-heavy arms seem to tighten their hold on Zephirin's waist; he is trapped flush against the boy. With no choice but to accept his fate, he makes no further attempt to shield them both from the encroaching consequences of their embrace, allowing his limbs to relax. His traitorous breathing, momentarily disrupted, grows audible in a brief chuckle, and then steady again. ]

As you wish. I thought to make room upon the bed, but I appear to be bound in place...

[ Zephirin's palm presses against the small of Francel's back, promising the boy that his knight will not vanish while he slumbers. ]

[having cornered his zephirin, francel presses still more drowsy kisses against the knight's chin, his long neck, his collarbones. this is comfortable; he relishes the gentle warmth of zephirin's palm against his back. slowly, his dreaminess melts away into wakeful excitement.]

If you were bound in place, I'd have you trussed up in silk ribbons and velvet cords.

[the young lord appears to be allowing himself a strange fantasy...]

A delicious Temple Knight for stew... hmhmhmhmhmhm. ♪

[ In lieu of ribbons and cords, Francel wields his sweet yet purposeful kisses, and Zephirin finds his once-suppressed cravings swiftly rekindled. They lick at his mind, his heart, his entire being; they compel him to arch his neck, baring it for Francel's ease of access, and lose himself in the moment even fleetingly, long enough to sigh a pleased sound.

Continuing is not conducive to ensuring that Francel rests, but Zephirin's hand drifts from Francel's back, rounding the boy's hip, the top of his thigh. An ilm lower, nearing the hem of Francel's shirt, and it could slip between fabric and skin. ]

And you would have me whole?

[ Echoing their playfulness in the baths, Zephirin but gives the young lord's side a light poke. ]

[predictably, francel squeaks in surprise when zephirin successfully locates his vulnerabilities; this pushes him fully into the realm of wakefulness, but fails to tame his early-morning fantasies. the low rumble of zephirin’s sigh yet echoes in his ears. hungry for more of the knight’s pleasure, francel’s own hands locate the hem of zephirin’s shirt and slide beneath it. his insatiable palms explore the warm stretch of zephirin’s deliciously hard belly.]

Mmm, I would devour every bit of you... swallow you down to the last drop.

[the lordling and seminarian has chosen his words carefully. his kisses linger against zephirin’s collarbones, the curve of his chest, and the unyielding sweetness of francel’s lips only grows more suggestive as he moves still lower, still lower...]

[ Francel takes his vulnerabilities out of reach as he seeks Zephirin's, his meaning plain. The boy is drowsy no longer, evidently ravenous instead — albeit for his fill of Temple Knight rather than Madam Adrienne's cooking.

Zephirin's next breath catches in his throat. His muscles tense with his unfurling desires, taut once more against Francel's soft, warm palms, but when his hand retreats from Francel's waist, his fingers slide readily into the boy's hair; a swipe of his thumb across Francel's earlobe encourages Francel to go on, even in this darkened room. ]

I see. A mere taste cannot sate your hunger, [ he murmurs between Francel's kisses, the slightest touch breathlessly. ] Should you devour me, I pray that will suffice.

Oh, but of course. It would not do if I were to dine on others...

[generously rewarded by the touch to his ear and the fingers in his hair, francel finds himself spurred onward. slowly, he slides zephirin's shirt a few ilms upward, pressing still more insistent kisses to the knight's navel, his taut, flexing abdomen. francel slides deeper into the blankets, into the shared warmth of the night they spent together. the sheets are warm around his head. he hooks his thumbs around zephirin's waistband.

but, tease that he is, the young lord does not dare remove zephirin's clothing. instead, he presses kisses against the promising swell in the knight's breeches, kissing and sucking lightly at him through his garments, providing just the barest hint of warmth and pressure from beyond the layers of fabric.

dignified men do not do these things, and neither do respectable women — and yet, there must be at least one lonely temple knight in his barracks who fantasizes about waking to exactly this sort of sight.

between kisses, francel murmurs:]

Tell me what you want, Zephirin.

Edited 2018-05-01 03:58 (UTC)

[ Francel has won, for Zephirin wants what the boy pursues once again; Zephirin's body gives Francel its answer first, knees bent, toes curling inward as Francel's mouth caresses the beginnings of the knight's arousal through his clothing. Zephirin wants what he endeavoured never to want, and he knows quite well that it makes no difference where he and Francel indulge in each other, here in the boy's quarters or in the baths. They have already fallen into sin.

But Zephirin's hand slips from Francel's hair to the boy's cheek, then to the blankets, pushing them aside to free Francel and himself from their warmth. It finds Francel's chin. ]

...Wait.

[ There is a certain, strange thrill to this morning's start, perhaps heightened by Francel's choosing to duck beneath the covers and descend upon his knight to devour, unseen; nevertheless, Zephirin sits up against the wall. After a moment's regarding Francel's mussed hair in the dawn's light, he offers his reply. ]

I seem to recall promises you made — you spoke of ministering to me.

[with his face fully in view for zephirin and the fury and all of ishgard to see, francel seems slightly chastened, but no less mischievous, no less naughty. he continues pressing his kisses up and down zephirin’s burgeoning length, quite plainly holding his overwhelming desire to take the man into his mouth once and for all in brittle restraints. he watches zephirin from beneath his half-lidded lashes.]

Is there another way I should minister to you, milord?

[ Seated to gaze down upon his Joacin, who now seems prostrated before him, eagerly worshipful, Zephirin stretches his hand back out as if he retains the whole of his composure, stroking the boy's ear again. This sight, too, is Francel's care generously given, and Zephirin would keep himself its only witness, guarding Francel from all of Ishgard and the Fury Herself if he must. When he leaves Haillenarte Manor, his memories will remain safely sealed away within his heart.

Yet a guest in Francel's home, he intends to soften the blow of their parting. ]

I merely request that you fulfill each of them. Will you have me with all of your senses?

[with still another impish smile, francel at last slides zephirin's breeches and undergarments to his thighs, swallowing in anticipation as he finds himself inexplicably salivating, ready and willing to please beyond all reason and control.]

Do you hunger for what I promised you, Zephirin?

[he giggles, so sweetly one would think him a wholly innocent being.]

One thing at a time, my love...

[so it comes to pass that francel at last lowers his eager mouth, taking zephirin between his lips, working his tongue in circles and arcs with an almost frantic desire.]

[ Today, their positions are reversed; Zephirin makes no move to resist Francel's touch, surrendering willingly to allow the boy to pin him in place. Trussed up in fetters made of his garments, he sinks beneath the first waves of pleasure lapping at his senses as Francel tastes him with a devilish mixture of coyness and obscene enthusiasm, the very sort once promised. He enjoys but a glimpse of Francel's bowed head ere his own lolls back and his eyelids lower — his imagination's stores are filled with every memory he has of the boy's diligent ministrations, but none prepared him for this.

Fingers winding themselves tightly into Francel's hair, Zephirin musters a gasped retort. ]

— Have I a priest before me or an inquisitor?

Edited 2018-05-09 07:49 (UTC)

Mmmnnnn... ♪

[spurred on by the tight grip in his hair, francel bobs his head diligently, relishing every twitch and gasp he wrests from zephirin's body. his own arousal begs to be sated; as discreetly as he can manage, he strokes himself in time to the movements of his head. in the end, however, breathlessness overtakes him — lungs aching, francel pulls up before he can bring zephirin to his zenith.

his lips are glossy with exertion. he gasps for breath.]

I... I can be your inquisitor, Zephirin.

[as if he cannot be parted from the knight's body for even a moment, even in his breathless state, francel falls upon zephirin's cock once more, lapping gently at the head with his restless tongue as he speaks.]

Confess to me your sins... your sinful thoughts? I would hear... everything you want to do to me...

[ Unwittingly or knowingly, Francel both pleases and teases. Though attentive, single-minded and almost tireless in his efforts, he stops short of hastening towards Zephirin's completion, withholding the relief that the knight's body craves. It is torture that Zephirin himself welcomes for the sake of a sweetened farewell, but the sensations overpower his thoughts, and for some moments again, his body responds in his stead. His breaths shudder and his thigh muscles quiver. His fingers flex against Francel's scalp as his hips twitch, driving him deeper into the heat of the boy's mouth. ]

My sins...

[ Zephirin's lashes flutter upon his cheeks. Through half-lidded eyes, past his free hand now tangled in his hair, he gazes at the ceiling before tipping his head forward.

He casts his mind back to Francel's many offers made — promises that declared Francel his for the taking — and perhaps confessing his desires would be enough today, but he begins modestly, repeating his request voiced in the baths. ]

I would kiss you, Joacin. [ Francel's garments cover his skin and conceal his figure; nonetheless, Zephirin remembers the inviting lines of the boy's body. ] I would know you from head to toe...

[ He brushes the pad of his thumb against the back of Francel's ear. ]

Am I to face punishment or do you grant me absolution?

[francel tosses his head, pressing his sensitive ear into zephirin's touch. (do his ears move on their own? they appear to droop as he squirms...) he is ticklish; he laughs. giggling with obvious delight, he sits up properly, straddling zephirin with his thighs as he plants his plush rear in the knight's lap. though the young lord remains clothed, their groins are perfectly aligned, and he devilishly rubs himself against zephirin, bucking his hips, as he settles into place.]

You shall have what you wish.

[one of zephirin's hands remains tangled in his own hair; the other hand has dropped to the mattress. though the knight's expressions are subtle, and he is not half so easy to read as men like emmanellain and haurchefant, he looks positively debauched compared to his usual self, and the sight of his half-lidded gaze drives francel feverish with desire. pressing a kiss to zephirin's forehead — as if he simply means to tuck the knight into bed once more — francel takes hold of zephirin's wrists. he presses the knight's hands beneath his shirt; he slides the knight's palm up his body, pushing his loose sleepwear up, revealing his wondrously tender skin.]

Know me, then...

[ Zephirin feels feverish once more himself; his bare skin is turned oversensitive, tingling with every touch, and once more, Francel wrings a confession from his lips, his sinful thoughts vocalized in a moan as the boy's warm weight rests in his lap. Greedily, his body makes to meet Francel's, seeking another moment's reprieve from the torture it endures. It finds it briefly, too briefly, in the rasp of cloth against skin.

For a mercy, this is not yet enough to bring their intimacy to a finish too soon, and Zephirin reclaims the composure to accept Francel's gift gracefully, still modestly, disguising the extent of his own anticipation. As if tantalizing his body, at first he only learns the fit of his hands upon Francel's waist anew, ere he moves to slowly peel the boy out of his sleepwear. He resists Francel's mouth, Francel's delicate neck. ]

...And if I would have you lie back upon the bed for me?

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