[ The very fact that it's unsatisfying is what makes it satisfying. Each stroke from Louis's long fingers elicits soft new sounds from Will's throat — sweet little virginal moans that a seasoned lover would surely be able to suppress, but which the young man just can't seem to hold back no matter how hard he tries.
He almost can't answer Louis's request, he's so worked up. Lashes fluttering, breath coming hard and hot as pleasure flashes and flares through his body in response to every little furtive movement between his legs — Will is so very pretty, writhing beneath Louis's hands, and the more desperate he gets, the more heavily he leans on the monster's body to keep himself upright, clutching weakly at locks of his pretty blond hair. ]
I want — I w-want it so badly... more than anything, I'll do anything...
[ Is this another trap? Still just the sweet words an assassin would whisper, luring his mark into bed?
Blindly, wildly, he is still trying to think of the mission. Louis's milky white neck is right there in front of him, impossibly vulnerable and deliciously tempting. If he tried for it now, if he slit Louis's throat, would the king's magic still stay his hand? Would some other enchantment of the archmage's prove to be his undoing?
And if he was captured, would Louis at least do him the mercy of fucking him while he was chained up, waiting helplessly for death to claim him?
Thinking about it only makes Will ache for more. Desperately, the young man licks and sucks and bites his way down Louis's neck, still not hard enough to break skin (suppose even that triggered the king's magic?). The madman's body smells of flowers and soap and something deeper: his own natural scent, the day's sweat, something still muskier, thickening with his arousal. It's heady and dark and addictive. Will finds himself crooning again, mewling for mercy as those glorious fingers find a particular way he likes his balls fondled; he sinks his nose against Louis's neck and makes no attempt to hide how deeply he takes a breath there, as if inhaling animalistic pheromones. Perhaps it's the elda in him: aching, Will feels sinfully attracted to Louis on some deep primal level that goes beyond instinct or mission or logic. ]
Louis...
[ He tries to kiss the edge of that star-shaped scar, but it's a difficult thing; Louis is really working him up at this point, and more than anything else, Will wants to get his cock out of the confines of his pants, hands scrabbling a little instinctively at Louis's chest in a vain effort to get it to happen.
He's not composed at all anymore. Openly desperate in a way that few people are with Louis, outside of when they're begging for their lives. It's almost sweet. ]
[ when Will tugs at his hair he gets a low, quiet moan of approval, pleased with the way Will's fingers tug at locks of hair and grasp onto his scalp, and the way he huddles there in the curtain of blond hair.
perhaps he shouldn't so readily expose his throat to Will's mouth and teeth, but the pressure feels good coupled with the brush of his lips, the way the wetness cools as Will moves to a different place. there's risk there, but that's what makes it good. risk always makes things good – most would advise against this, Fidelio especially, who seems to be particularly suspicious of Will and his friends. Louis knows they're up to something, and he doesn't doubt that it would end in him dead, there's something achingly attractive about it – about this elda, how came to him like he walked through fate's doors. Louis didn't much believe in any greater control of the universe, but Will's arrival in his life felt like closest to any type of order.
it's a wonder watching Will pant and squirm beneath such a gentle touch, Louis admires the fine arc of his back, and the way his thighs tremble. the movement is almost as intoxicating as his body, because he's so lively, so into the moment of this ill advised tryst. it draws Louis into it with each soft, panting breath that they share together.
he suddenly wants more than this. much more than this.
as Will holds him tight, Louis hooks his thumbs into those waist-high leggings and tugs them down over his hips, his palm cupping his smooth thighs as he drags them down his knees. it gives Louis a good look at him, and he takes it in from beneath heavy lashes, tracing the point of heat between his legs and up his body. he rolls up his the tunic next, rolling it up until it's over his nipples, now only covering skin that doesn't need to be covered. ]
You look so good. You have my word, I'll give you more, as much as you want ...
[ he gives Will what he wants, undoing the last few buttons of his jacket until it falls open and exposes his chest, all the way down to his navel. there's a soft, discolored scar in the center of his chest, but he doesn't allow Will much time to focus on it, because he's flicking the snaps on his pants, giving Will the access to his cock that he was begging for. the exposure of skin is just between the two of them, Louis still clad proudly in the rest of his finery.
there's some wonder on his face as his expression softens, going back to touching Will's soft thighs, tracing the length of his cock and fondling his balls in that way that made him moan. he leans in to kiss the center of his chest, licking a line up to his collar as if he were trying to taste him. ]
[ It's easier than he's read about in books. Some authors, they make the act sound so barbaric, like a struggle for power, all tongues and teeth and nails scraping across skin. And yet, for all that Louis is a monster, all of this has been gentle, sweet, smooth, simple. Will touches Louis, wins little moans and sighs for his efforts, and feels heady arousal course through his body, like magla injected directly into the veins; he tips his head back to give Louis the room to kiss him, down his sternum and then up towards his neck, and it feels heavenly. Perfect. So natural that he doesn't even stop to question it, despite the fact that he knows he should be disgusted with himself.
And Louis is beautiful. Privately, Will had wondered what the man would look like without all his armor and accoutrements; half of it was a thought that maybe Louis was hiding something relevant to the royal family on his body, but the other half was just that Zorba's painting had made Louis look so delicate, in the legs. The body beneath him now is nothing even close to delicate, though. The sliver of skin that Louis has graced him with is more than enough for Will to see that clearly. He's broad-chested, well-muscled down through his belly. He bares his cock to sate Will's appetites, and Will's appetites are communicated very clearly by an eager twitch of his own length, his breath coming ever shorter as he takes in the length and girth of Louis's cock and realizes — that — ]
...I want more...
[ His heart is racing in his chest. Does Louis think he's beautiful, too? He's pulled Will's clothes apart; does he like the sight of his fatally slender waist, his slim hips, his brown nipples peaked in the cold air? His skin, unblemished and nearly without flaw?
(What kind of elda would have such a soft, bookish, pampered figure? How could any member of Euchronia's most poor and downtrodden have lived such a perfect, pristine existence, for all of these years?)
It occurs to Will, not without a twinge of guilt that tastes sour at the back of his throat if he thinks about it for too long, that this is the first time that he's wanted something. That he, Will, has wanted something, and not merely as an extension of wanting things to be better for the prince who is his guiding light. And why, of all things, did it have to be this?
He reaches out to wrap both hands around Louis's cock, wants so very desperately to pump at it and milk more breathy moans out of his perfect, cruel mouth, but he can't even think when Louis is fondling him so deftly, with a firm and insistent pressure that makes his insides seize up, coiling and aching already in anticipating of what's to come. ]
Louis, I — my lord, I — c-can't please you if you... ah...!
[ He's trying, really trying, but his sight seems to blur on the angelic vision that is the soft look of curiosity on Louis's face. Perhaps this is all only another one of the man's experiments; he seems so interested in this, in how Will's body will respond to stimuli, but the stimulus he's giving is one that only has one end, and he surely knows what that end is. Surely he's already imagining it, with the way Will's body is writhing so pleasantly, arms cradling Louis's head as the man kisses up his chest and neck. The head of his cock is near-dripping at this point, smeared wet with slick pre-cum, so, so close, and he's being so good, trying to warn Louis, instinctively already at a point where he won't come unless Louis lets him... ]
[ there's something primal that grasps him as Will unabashedly pants with wet lips, his arms draped around his head as he tugs him closer. the heady desire is coupled with a raw thirst for connection. it hits him so hard that he has to steady himself, and there's a sort of quiet warmth to his voice when he leans in, breathing in the heat between the two of them, basking in Will's mewls of pleasure. ]
Not yet. I've not had my fill of you yet.
[ after all that talk of giving him more, but Louis isn't done with him yet. not this pretty thing draped over his desk, legs spread sweetly for him to devour, for the briefest moment, he would have this over revenge on a crumbling world. he would have Will's lovely, bare body, his hands roving through his hair, head tipping back and begging for more. with his attention elsewhere, he hadn't noticed just how hard he's gotten, and when Will makes a motion to touch him, he realizes just how aroused his body has become.
the long fingers between Will's legs smudge the cum over the head of his cock, playing with the shape and how the length fits in his hand. Will chokes when he strokes him, his words stuttering between gasps that tugs at his belly each time one passes through Will's lips. lower, lower he goes, tracing along smooth skin until his fingers are pressed against his opening. his fingers rub him, putting pressure there but not penetrating. it's possible that he doesn't know what a tease he's being, and there's some cruel part of him that just enjoys drinking in Will's reactions.
his body leans forward into his partner's, keeping him steady in their heady tangle, because he's suddenly very aware of how his cock is throbbing since Will touched him, and how he desperately wants some type of friction. he presses his cock up against Will's thigh, rolling his hips against him with a few shuddered sighs.
it's enough for now, but it won't be for long. he's going to want more, and then more and more.
(another elda, somewhere inside his brain echoes. the rest doesn't matter.)
it does matter.
catching Will's lips, he moans quietly into them, the first with his voice behind it, different from his sighs and hums of pleasure. part of him is still holding back, held back from grasping onto Will in search of connection. ]
[ So cruel, such a tease — right when Will thinks he's almost there, stumbling on the precipice of a rush of pleasure that will change his life forever, Louis pulls back. Fingers exploratory, pushing at his entrance but not pressing in where their pressure would help bring the pretty young elda boy to climax. Will lets out a long, whining, frustrated sound, implicitly begging for mercy, but —
— then Louis kisses him again and moans, soft but voiced, and the low sound of it spreads like heat through Will's veins again. He suddenly realizes that he wants more, but more of that specifically. He wants to please Louis, in earnest this time, not because of the prince or the plan or anything else, but because the sound of Louis's pleasure is more beautiful than any music he's ever heard, and if he chases it to its end, he will find either salvation or damnation there.
That hot, heavy cock rubbing against his thigh needs attention, but Louis seems to like the way that Will has been tugging at his hair, too. For a moment, overwhelmed and stupid for it, Will wonders how he can attend to both, and then remembers that he has two hands. Gasping for breath before diving in to kiss Louis again — genuinely and sweetly, seeking the "clemar's" pleasure and not his own — Will fists his fingers through Louis's scalp, tugging lightly to see how he responds. Even so, he manages to wrap his other hand around Louis's cock, pumping and tugging at it, smearing pre-cum over the head of the man's cock just the same way that Louis was rubbing and massaging the head of his own.
Feeling it in his hand, the weight of it, the shape of it — Will shivers to himself, envisioning it clearly: he's going to put this inside of me. And it's like he can feel it, a shift inside of him; something in his own body warming up, ready to adjust to the intrusion, if it means that they can both chase a high they've never felt before.
Oh, so good. These gentle, exploratory touches alone shouldn't feel so good. ]
Louis...
[ Between kisses, between tugs, between begging for those fingers to stop just rubbing his hole but to push in, press in. He bucks his hips a little, trying to suggest it, beg for it; the motion rubs his thigh slightly against Louis's hot cock. ]
[ out there, somewhere, Will's friends are worried. in here, with the door closed tight, and the two of them locked away from the world for some glorious, brief moment, it doesn't matter. ]
Impatient, are you?
[ he sounds as if he has some semblance of control, but his voice shakes as Will strokes him. Louis hadn't anticipated that – no, he figured he'd had a good amount of control over the situation. that was until Will grabbed a handful of his hair, then grabbed his cock, and now he's left to steady his breath and grapple back his air of authority. maybe it was the sudden loss, the surprise, that he finds thrums in his body at Will's pleasure. he could move to dislodge him, but there's something fulfilling about this friction between them right now.
why is it that in these situations – ones where others would be ridiculed and dismissed from Louis' service – that he allows Will such freedom, even with his own body? he doesn't have long to ponder that question as he breathes hard between them as Will presses his fingers into his scalp, tugging at his blond hair. it's not enough to tug at his head, but the pressure is enough to make him groan quietly, just as Will wanted. each breath starts getting quicker, in pace with his strokes.
breaking away from a kiss, Louis presses his fingers to Will's wet lips, then slowly in and against his tongue. he'll need to make a move to his desk, eventually, to retrieve something to make their coupling more fluid. for now, this will have to do. as he draws his fingers from Will's mouth, he can't help but taste them for himself. ]
You wanted more.
[ he says with a breathy, deep edge to his voice that almost sounds dangerous. leaning forward, he presses a wet finger against him again, this time more that just rubbing, he slides it inside of him. it's not too far, but enough for Will to get a feel for the intrusion. ]
[ How could he possibly get more aroused than this? Such bliss, to be so pliant and sweet in Louis's lap, mouth open, letting the man's fingers invade his mouth, watching him taste Will's saliva still gleaming down his knuckles — it's enough to make Will want to come outright already. But Louis's hands don't stay still, no. They dip down between the young elda's legs again, giving him the attention that he himself has been craving, begging for — pleading for — ]
Yes — ah, like that, like...
[ Will grips at Louis's hair again, heedless this time of how it might feel; he's only reacting to the new sensation inside of him, uncomfortable at first, but which he quickly acclimates to, far faster than even he himself thought he'd accommodate it. It feels wrong at first, but then strangely right, as though he's always been meant to be here, taking Louis's fingers in preparation for something more. Thicker, heavier.
That low rumble in Louis's voice has set Will's imagination aflame, even as the real thing is in front of him, rubbing and preparing him with surprising patience. Will stops chasing after Louis's kisses for a moment, but only because his eyelids have fluttered shut, as he pants, trying to catch his breath, as he with his own hips presses Louis's fingers deeper into him, until he's pressed against a spot that makes Will's knees give out, pleasure surging through him like an electric shock. His breath escapes him again, more voice in it this time; a high-pitched moan. ]
[ Will's so eager, leaning into his fingers to push him deeper until he's rubbing one firmly against his prostate. there's something wonderful about having Will so malleable under his power, grasping his at his hair with closed fists and moaning from his belly. this is what he was hungry for: Will wiggling his hips and breathing deeply, shuddering in pleasure.
much to his displeasure, he has to slip from inside Will in order to get something more feasible for their coupling. ]
Good. [ Louis leans over the desk, close to Will's ear as he allows him, for the briefest moment, to catch his breath. ] Quite good. You can come soon.
[ his arms and body are long enough to go in search of the drawer, which he does with surprising elegance, considering their position. Will gets the luxury of taking a moment to compose himself before Louis penetrates him again, more insistent this time, with two fingers that scissor open to stretch him. this time they're slick with a sweet smelling oil that doesn't smell too unlike Louis, himself. there's something smug about Louis' expression, between the raw pleasure and the knowledge of place inside of his partner, it feels as if he has a rush of power that grips him.
with a firm hand, he pulls Will's hips forward, taking his wrists in his hands and pinning them back to the desk so he's stretched over it and Louis can drink in the shape of him. Louis holds him there, tracing his palm down his hip, over the soft flesh of his thigh as if he may mean to devour him.
perhaps it's his last cruelty before he indulges Will in release. ]
[ Through all his arousal, past his racing heart, Will thinks, hazily and incongruously, of the mission. He reminds himself that Louis Guiabern is a monster in a handsome man's body. That he killed the king, cursed the prince, left Strohl's parents to die when he had the power to save them. He killed Grius, too, though that was arguably in self-defense. But he would have killed Strohl and Will as well, if they'd been fool enough to be on stage at the time. He's not a good person, Will thinks. He tortures his assassins. He leads a flock of brutes and fanatics. He does all manner of cold and inexcusable things.
And yet, as impossibly cruel as he is — the eyes that search Will's body now speak only of ordinary lust, and temptation, and hunger. They speak of desire, and because of that desire, weakness.
This craving for Will's body — perhaps it will be Louis's undoing.
Not that Will is in control, at the moment. But he knows that. He's a vision, pinned to the desk with his arms above his head. So pretty and delicate; so lovely and luscious and vulnerable. The expression on his face is nothing less than ecstatic, the arousal between his legs is aching red, and that beautiful flush on his cheeks is something that can't possibly be feigned. The more Louis preps him, fucking into him with thick fingers and stretching him out in anticipation of something much thicker, the more Will moans, his pretty chest heaving with each breath. He's so responsive, and so tempting, and so good. ]
Louis, please...
[ He's said so much already. I want it. I want more. But this time, finally, at last, those honest words which no one save madmen and sycophants have ever whispered to Louis — ]
I want you...
[ What is it about Louis that he wants, in this moment? His power? His beauty? What does he truly know about the man that Louis Guiabern truly is?
Even knowing that he knows nothing, why does this somehow feel so right? ]
[ it's the monster that is Louis Guiabern hovering just above Will's collar and pressing warm lips to the center of his chest; the same monster who drove a dagger through the heart of the king, and he would not deny that it felt good. this feels good too – a far different kind of good, a sort of non-violent catharsis. affection was never his strong suit, but this seems easier, there is power he doesn't have to give up. it means that Will may have a weakness of his to grasp onto in possible coming battles, but the prospect seems thrilling rather than damning. if Will undoes him knowing this flaw, then so be it.
going back to the Eldan Sanctum was never something he wanted to do, but it's intoxicating to see another elda, to trace Will's waist with the cool palm of his hand. there's more to touch, and he couldn't possibly fulfill all every part he'd like to trace in one sitting. Will's body will need to be pieced together in a mental map, until he's certain of every last detail.
such a pretty thing, he thinks, lashes low over his bright eyes as he watches the steady breath cause Will's chest to rise and fall. those words to cause him to pause. Louis can reason that Will is just muttering sweet nothings in the moment, drunk on arousal and begging for release. people want things from him, they do not want him. that is, essentially, how the world works. it's nice to hear, but he's not sure he believes it.
before he takes Will, he presses the length of his cock against between his legs, against his arousal and dragging himself down to his opening. he seems to be savoring this, either on making Will wait just a little longer or for his own pleasure. this time he doesn't linger long, with his fingers curled against Will's thigh, he spreads his legs and finally, finally pushes inside of him. it's tight, even if he's wet, and when he's inside he gives Will a moment to adjust to the intrusion, as it's wider than the fingers he was using before. it's a testament to his own discipline.
the fabric above the slivers of skin that Louis' is showing shifts under his heavy breath, and his hair falls over his shoulder like a curtain as he leans over Will. ]
[ Louis pushes in, and then Will feels all the air leave his lungs.
For a moment, it's a struggle to breathe. Not quite because Louis is so big that he defies natural instinct, but more just because Will isn't used to it, this kind of intrusion. It makes him cling to Louis's body, nails clawing down his back in a gentle way that will leave raised ridges rather than broken skin. Such a pretty, pretty thing, and he looks so good on Louis's cock, with lust in his mismatched eyes and a haze that is clouding his judgment. Feels good, too — impossibly tight and hot and wet, his sweet hole squeezing and pulsing down on Louis, promising him a world of pleasure, a tryst he'll never forget.
The monster that is Louis Guiabern would destroy Will with his appetites, surely? And yet the man that is Louis only waits patiently, all stoic military discipline despite the tension in his body. Maybe that's only his own sadism, the way he seems to like making Will wait. Maybe he's kinder than he himself thinks he is.
But Will likes it. How composed the "clemar" is. He likes it in a way where he wants to pull it apart. He's almost forgotten his own pleasure; right now, he wants to make Louis see stars. ]
Louis...
[ Once again, Will calls his name. Reaches into that curtain of beautiful hair, but only to push it away from Louis's face, so that Will can see the sheer perfection above him, gaze into those lovely long-lashed green eyes and know with complete certainty that he'll never again bed a more perfect specimen of a man.
Does he like me? Will wonders, hazily — me, not in a conceited way, not in any way that has to do with how he is as a person, or the promising wet passage between his legs, but rather: is Louis more thrilled to have him because he's an elda? The way his eyes scan Will's body, the way it seems as though he wants to drink in the shape of his hips and the slim dip of his waist — is it because he sees something Will doesn't?
Will can't fathom it — it's not as though the man has commented on his tribe before, it can't be because he's wanted one — and yet — why would such a man take Will as a lover otherwise? The novelty, the exoticism — surely that's the point. Surely it couldn't be because Will... because he likes anything about...
... ]
...You can move...
[ Once his breaths have stabilized, and he's shaking slightly less in his thighs, Will reaches out, greedy, trying to coax Louis into moving. The way he's squeezing down on Louis's cock, tight but yielding, perfectly needy — that in itself would be temptation, but the lovestruck look in his mismatched eyes, that's even more enticing. ]
I want... [ A breath, a whimper — ] I want to make you feel good...
[ A likely thing to say. The red-hot engorgement between his own legs says enough about how drunk on arousal he really is. ]
[ the elda have witnessed and endured much, and Louis knew how much – he was there, among the flames, as the Sanctists burned everything to ash. the two of them have lived through far too much to be tortured again, at least right now, in this room. if they decide to kill one another, let it be by the edge of a blade, rather than secret affections and longing glances. Louis will not devour him in a way that will not give him pleasure, as an elda to another. perhaps it's one of the last shred of empathy that he has left to give somewhere other than his ambitions.
(for the first time in a long time, he feels as if he's not alone. it's both comforting and terrifying, like the memories of loss accompanying those of intimacy – an uneasy place, harrowing and bright, consumed in flames.)
beneath him, his knees feel as if they'll buckle and give out, and his body sways as Will tugs him down, down, down and he goes down, down down. he can feel the shapes of his nails, so many little crescent moons, press the fabric of his uniform into his skin. it eats away at his exterior, threatening to expose his belly and break his composure into a thousand, million pieces. Will presses around his cock, hot and wet and willing, and thoughts of perfect meritocratic worlds are chased from his head. all he can focus on is the warmth spreading in his belly and Will's voice, quiet and urging, for him to move.
the rest of the sparse trinkets over his desk top shudder as he braces himself against the surface, holding on to the smooth top as if it would somehow give him enough grounding to regain his full constitution. he doesn't, because he can't. his hips rock into him, pressing into the heat, gliding slickly inside him. something like this could make him forget that world he wants to build, because it feels as if it's right here.
through half-lidded eyes and his curtain of hair, he watches Will body shift with each one of his thrusts, speeding up and slowing down as if he's testing the pace of the pleasure. his eyes trace his body from head to hip again, to the place where they're connected, and the way the movement of his body causes Will to shift beneath him.
as his breath labors his pace increases, a hand grasping onto Will's thigh to keep his legs spread. between them his back arches and face dips down close to the other elda, their noses brushing and breath mingling. suddenly it doesn't matter if Will means it or not, because it feels a little more like he does like this. ]
I want you too.
[ spoken in a deep, low whisper of a voice usually making commands rather than confessions. it feels like it may get lost, but he does mean it in this moment. ]
[ It's overwhelming. Too much, too good. Will is beautiful, laid out for Louis's pleasure; there's something incredibly addictive about watching his body rock with every thrust into his slick passage, no matter how fast or how slow. So responsive, so sweet. His lashes flutter, his breaths uneven and ragged, hips twitching and rocking with pleasure. Louis has so much power over him right now.
And yet — doesn't Will have power over him, in turn? The minute Louis says I want you it's as if some kind of dam breaks; he reaches up, kisses Louis passionately, intensely, with an appetite that borders on madness. He wants the slick slipping of their tongues to be as demanding as the hot wet heaven of Louis's cock slamming deep into his core. He wants Louis to drown in him, to lose himself so vividly in the ecstasy of Will's tight body that he breaks his desk from how tightly he's gripped onto the edge of it.
Will decides that he doesn't want to think about the mission, not right now, in this moment; he wants to think about this beautiful man who has admitted to craving him. Wants to make him feel, wants him to taste a pleasure so encompassing that it might fix whatever is wrong with him, deep in his hollow heart.
Will can't think. He doesn't respond to Louis, not with proper words; the utterances he lets out are soft moans, little gasps, sweet sounds of pleasure. He can't even manage Louis's name. But as their noses brush again and Louis's cock presses into his prostate so insistently that Will tastes pleasure at the back of his tongue — right before he surrenders completely to the rapture of having sex with Louis, Will thinks that he understands, once and for all, that Louis Guiabern really is a man like any other man, and when they do this together, they can be equals; they can be one.
He comes, spine arched beautifully over Louis's desk, white cum in glorious contrast over his tan skin. So pretty, conquered by Louis — and yet somehow, it feels almost as though he dragged Louis down to a mortal level. ]
it's nice to have everything pushed from his brain: his loneliness, his hate, and the storm of his own ambitions, in favor of this beautiful elda boy. for a rare moment, this is all he wants to think about, and all he wants to hear is Will's soft voice, moaning and gasping to the slick sound of each heavy thrust.
Will kisses him like a monster, and Louis responds with the same open fervor, open mouthed and wet, allowing Will to fill him up in turn. it's heated and messy, slick as they kiss again and Louis misses, pressing a kiss to Will's chin and leave a trail of saliva. he makes up for it by finding his lips again, pressing between them as he presses between his legs.
there are arms around him, gripping his clothing between tight knuckles in desperation for something to hang on to. one arm drags Will's hips closer, holds him steady to finish on the last few tight, short thrusts before he sheaths himself inside of him, the other elda shivering around him. he can feel the pulse around his cock, Will squeezing down on him as his body shifts, and it's too much. Louis can't keep hold of himself, and he releases with a shiver and a moan that's so low it sounds like a sigh. he pumps into him a few more times, as if he's milking them both, and draws out.
his chest is rising and falling steadily with each deep breath. it was as good as a long, exhausting battle, one where he won a great victory. the fresh feelings of intimacy are marking his brain as he clasps his pants, sliding an arm under Will's bare waist to sit him up on the desk so he can gather himself.
from a pocket on his uniform, he pulls out a cloth tissue. with his arm holding him around the waist, he cleans him up, as if that curiosity about his body has extended past the sex and into something else. ]
[ Overwhelming. Just so overwhelming, really. The aftershocks of pleasure are still tingling through Will's body, even as the knowledge that he now carries Louis Guiabern's seed both pleases and repulses him in a strange way. What has he done? How is he supposed to explain this to anyone, if indeed he ever has to explain it at all?
He doesn't want to. Wants to die with this as a secret between the both of them. And yet, even as he thinks this, he adores the way Louis is treating him, carefully gentle, like he's something precious. The hand that swipes up cum from over his belly is brisk and efficient, but curious, too. Lingering.
Maybe Will can delude himself — ]
It was... so good...
[ He wants more than this, craves it. Needs some kind of proof of deeper connection in the moment, because if there isn't one then he's only let himself be used for pleasure, and then what would that make him? Shyly, tentatively, with a sweetly unsure air about him that contrasts against the monstrous appetite he just demonstrated, Will noses into Louis's space again, and kisses him. Gently, he takes Louis's face in both hands to facilitate their joining. His chin is still wet with Louis's saliva; he has Louis's sweat on him, Louis's cum.
Will feels thoroughly marked — but even so. One more kiss, and one last kiss. He needs it. ]
[ there is a fascination with Will's body beyond just attraction, where Louis' gaze traces the intricacies of his body as if he's somehow burning the shape into his memories. Louis looks at him like that sometimes, too, with a mixture of hunger and fascination.
later, perhaps, it'll be more apparent, that there was a kinship that he felt, as if he were desperately reaching out to someone else, not just an elda, but an elda who felt the same way he did. in a world where they buried themselves and refused to surface, there was someone else who had a thirst for adventure, and wanted to leave the world behind better than the they found it.
Will's hands frame his face, and he doesn't protest. allows him to pull him in for another – one last – kiss. with a hand on the desk, he leans into him, not chaste nor desperate, but sealed like a promise. for how long, he allows Will to decide that for himself.
of course, the world will continue to turn after this. Will returning to his friends, and Louis plotting and against the political power of the church. the thought that Will could divulge their tryst to his friends had crossed his mind, but he believes Will too earnest for it. perhaps that he will have to explain his own feelings about Louis to them, as Louis would have to explain his own feelings about Will to anyone he told. it was better to not mention it; he liked the recklessness of this little secret, and the way it threatened to undo them both.
when the kiss is broken, and Will gets himself together to leave, Louis seats himself at his desk again as if they hadn't been sprawled all over it not moments again. he tilts his head with a smug little smile as Will takes the door handle. ]
If you are so inclined, I will call for you when the tailor has completed the work. You'll need to be fitted for any errors.
[ not only is he still sending for them, but he still remembers Will's measurements. oh, and he seems rather keen on doing this again. ]
[ He's been called a dirty elda, a filthy creature of sin, but Will has never felt more sullied than when he's pulling his clothes on, desperately trying to ignore how satisfied he feels, low in the pit of his belly where arousal once sat. How is he supposed to feel about this in the future? What will happen if he wakes up tomorrow and craves the feeling of Louis's body inside of his again? His cheeks flush once more as he thinks about it. He can't even pull his coat up over his arms without remembering how Louis's hands felt against them, cradling his body, fucking deep and hard into him with reckless abandon.
Then he takes the door handle, and Louis says that, and Will — Will falters. Yet again. Maybe it's because he has yet to figure out what he expects from himself. ]
...I understand. I'll... I'll return when you call for me, Lord Louis.
[ He can't say the words without stumbling on them, but the truth is —
The truth is that he's eager to do it again, too. The truth is that he's not certain he won't be mewling at Louis's door before long, desperate for one more kiss, one more touch.
(He doesn't make it until Louis's next summons. Will makes up a pretense to sneak into Louis's office not two days afterward.) ]
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He almost can't answer Louis's request, he's so worked up. Lashes fluttering, breath coming hard and hot as pleasure flashes and flares through his body in response to every little furtive movement between his legs — Will is so very pretty, writhing beneath Louis's hands, and the more desperate he gets, the more heavily he leans on the monster's body to keep himself upright, clutching weakly at locks of his pretty blond hair. ]
I want — I w-want it so badly... more than anything, I'll do anything...
[ Is this another trap? Still just the sweet words an assassin would whisper, luring his mark into bed?
Blindly, wildly, he is still trying to think of the mission. Louis's milky white neck is right there in front of him, impossibly vulnerable and deliciously tempting. If he tried for it now, if he slit Louis's throat, would the king's magic still stay his hand? Would some other enchantment of the archmage's prove to be his undoing?
And if he was captured, would Louis at least do him the mercy of fucking him while he was chained up, waiting helplessly for death to claim him?
Thinking about it only makes Will ache for more. Desperately, the young man licks and sucks and bites his way down Louis's neck, still not hard enough to break skin (suppose even that triggered the king's magic?). The madman's body smells of flowers and soap and something deeper: his own natural scent, the day's sweat, something still muskier, thickening with his arousal. It's heady and dark and addictive. Will finds himself crooning again, mewling for mercy as those glorious fingers find a particular way he likes his balls fondled; he sinks his nose against Louis's neck and makes no attempt to hide how deeply he takes a breath there, as if inhaling animalistic pheromones. Perhaps it's the elda in him: aching, Will feels sinfully attracted to Louis on some deep primal level that goes beyond instinct or mission or logic. ]
Louis...
[ He tries to kiss the edge of that star-shaped scar, but it's a difficult thing; Louis is really working him up at this point, and more than anything else, Will wants to get his cock out of the confines of his pants, hands scrabbling a little instinctively at Louis's chest in a vain effort to get it to happen.
He's not composed at all anymore. Openly desperate in a way that few people are with Louis, outside of when they're begging for their lives. It's almost sweet. ]
Please, please...
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perhaps he shouldn't so readily expose his throat to Will's mouth and teeth, but the pressure feels good coupled with the brush of his lips, the way the wetness cools as Will moves to a different place. there's risk there, but that's what makes it good. risk always makes things good – most would advise against this, Fidelio especially, who seems to be particularly suspicious of Will and his friends. Louis knows they're up to something, and he doesn't doubt that it would end in him dead, there's something achingly attractive about it – about this elda, how came to him like he walked through fate's doors. Louis didn't much believe in any greater control of the universe, but Will's arrival in his life felt like closest to any type of order.
it's a wonder watching Will pant and squirm beneath such a gentle touch, Louis admires the fine arc of his back, and the way his thighs tremble. the movement is almost as intoxicating as his body, because he's so lively, so into the moment of this ill advised tryst. it draws Louis into it with each soft, panting breath that they share together.
he suddenly wants more than this. much more than this.
as Will holds him tight, Louis hooks his thumbs into those waist-high leggings and tugs them down over his hips, his palm cupping his smooth thighs as he drags them down his knees. it gives Louis a good look at him, and he takes it in from beneath heavy lashes, tracing the point of heat between his legs and up his body. he rolls up his the tunic next, rolling it up until it's over his nipples, now only covering skin that doesn't need to be covered. ]
You look so good. You have my word, I'll give you more, as much as you want ...
[ he gives Will what he wants, undoing the last few buttons of his jacket until it falls open and exposes his chest, all the way down to his navel. there's a soft, discolored scar in the center of his chest, but he doesn't allow Will much time to focus on it, because he's flicking the snaps on his pants, giving Will the access to his cock that he was begging for. the exposure of skin is just between the two of them, Louis still clad proudly in the rest of his finery.
there's some wonder on his face as his expression softens, going back to touching Will's soft thighs, tracing the length of his cock and fondling his balls in that way that made him moan. he leans in to kiss the center of his chest, licking a line up to his collar as if he were trying to taste him. ]
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And Louis is beautiful. Privately, Will had wondered what the man would look like without all his armor and accoutrements; half of it was a thought that maybe Louis was hiding something relevant to the royal family on his body, but the other half was just that Zorba's painting had made Louis look so delicate, in the legs. The body beneath him now is nothing even close to delicate, though. The sliver of skin that Louis has graced him with is more than enough for Will to see that clearly. He's broad-chested, well-muscled down through his belly. He bares his cock to sate Will's appetites, and Will's appetites are communicated very clearly by an eager twitch of his own length, his breath coming ever shorter as he takes in the length and girth of Louis's cock and realizes — that — ]
...I want more...
[ His heart is racing in his chest. Does Louis think he's beautiful, too? He's pulled Will's clothes apart; does he like the sight of his fatally slender waist, his slim hips, his brown nipples peaked in the cold air? His skin, unblemished and nearly without flaw?
(What kind of elda would have such a soft, bookish, pampered figure? How could any member of Euchronia's most poor and downtrodden have lived such a perfect, pristine existence, for all of these years?)
It occurs to Will, not without a twinge of guilt that tastes sour at the back of his throat if he thinks about it for too long, that this is the first time that he's wanted something. That he, Will, has wanted something, and not merely as an extension of wanting things to be better for the prince who is his guiding light. And why, of all things, did it have to be this?
He reaches out to wrap both hands around Louis's cock, wants so very desperately to pump at it and milk more breathy moans out of his perfect, cruel mouth, but he can't even think when Louis is fondling him so deftly, with a firm and insistent pressure that makes his insides seize up, coiling and aching already in anticipating of what's to come. ]
Louis, I — my lord, I — c-can't please you if you... ah...!
[ He's trying, really trying, but his sight seems to blur on the angelic vision that is the soft look of curiosity on Louis's face. Perhaps this is all only another one of the man's experiments; he seems so interested in this, in how Will's body will respond to stimuli, but the stimulus he's giving is one that only has one end, and he surely knows what that end is. Surely he's already imagining it, with the way Will's body is writhing so pleasantly, arms cradling Louis's head as the man kisses up his chest and neck. The head of his cock is near-dripping at this point, smeared wet with slick pre-cum, so, so close, and he's being so good, trying to warn Louis, instinctively already at a point where he won't come unless Louis lets him... ]
I'm going to — I c-can't, can't...
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Not yet. I've not had my fill of you yet.
[ after all that talk of giving him more, but Louis isn't done with him yet. not this pretty thing draped over his desk, legs spread sweetly for him to devour, for the briefest moment, he would have this over revenge on a crumbling world. he would have Will's lovely, bare body, his hands roving through his hair, head tipping back and begging for more. with his attention elsewhere, he hadn't noticed just how hard he's gotten, and when Will makes a motion to touch him, he realizes just how aroused his body has become.
the long fingers between Will's legs smudge the cum over the head of his cock, playing with the shape and how the length fits in his hand. Will chokes when he strokes him, his words stuttering between gasps that tugs at his belly each time one passes through Will's lips. lower, lower he goes, tracing along smooth skin until his fingers are pressed against his opening. his fingers rub him, putting pressure there but not penetrating. it's possible that he doesn't know what a tease he's being, and there's some cruel part of him that just enjoys drinking in Will's reactions.
his body leans forward into his partner's, keeping him steady in their heady tangle, because he's suddenly very aware of how his cock is throbbing since Will touched him, and how he desperately wants some type of friction. he presses his cock up against Will's thigh, rolling his hips against him with a few shuddered sighs.
it's enough for now, but it won't be for long. he's going to want more, and then more and more.
(another elda, somewhere inside his brain echoes. the rest doesn't matter.)
it does matter.
catching Will's lips, he moans quietly into them, the first with his voice behind it, different from his sighs and hums of pleasure. part of him is still holding back, held back from grasping onto Will in search of connection. ]
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— then Louis kisses him again and moans, soft but voiced, and the low sound of it spreads like heat through Will's veins again. He suddenly realizes that he wants more, but more of that specifically. He wants to please Louis, in earnest this time, not because of the prince or the plan or anything else, but because the sound of Louis's pleasure is more beautiful than any music he's ever heard, and if he chases it to its end, he will find either salvation or damnation there.
That hot, heavy cock rubbing against his thigh needs attention, but Louis seems to like the way that Will has been tugging at his hair, too. For a moment, overwhelmed and stupid for it, Will wonders how he can attend to both, and then remembers that he has two hands. Gasping for breath before diving in to kiss Louis again — genuinely and sweetly, seeking the "clemar's" pleasure and not his own — Will fists his fingers through Louis's scalp, tugging lightly to see how he responds. Even so, he manages to wrap his other hand around Louis's cock, pumping and tugging at it, smearing pre-cum over the head of the man's cock just the same way that Louis was rubbing and massaging the head of his own.
Feeling it in his hand, the weight of it, the shape of it — Will shivers to himself, envisioning it clearly: he's going to put this inside of me. And it's like he can feel it, a shift inside of him; something in his own body warming up, ready to adjust to the intrusion, if it means that they can both chase a high they've never felt before.
Oh, so good. These gentle, exploratory touches alone shouldn't feel so good. ]
Louis...
[ Between kisses, between tugs, between begging for those fingers to stop just rubbing his hole but to push in, press in. He bucks his hips a little, trying to suggest it, beg for it; the motion rubs his thigh slightly against Louis's hot cock. ]
When...?
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Impatient, are you?
[ he sounds as if he has some semblance of control, but his voice shakes as Will strokes him. Louis hadn't anticipated that – no, he figured he'd had a good amount of control over the situation. that was until Will grabbed a handful of his hair, then grabbed his cock, and now he's left to steady his breath and grapple back his air of authority. maybe it was the sudden loss, the surprise, that he finds thrums in his body at Will's pleasure. he could move to dislodge him, but there's something fulfilling about this friction between them right now.
why is it that in these situations – ones where others would be ridiculed and dismissed from Louis' service – that he allows Will such freedom, even with his own body? he doesn't have long to ponder that question as he breathes hard between them as Will presses his fingers into his scalp, tugging at his blond hair. it's not enough to tug at his head, but the pressure is enough to make him groan quietly, just as Will wanted. each breath starts getting quicker, in pace with his strokes.
breaking away from a kiss, Louis presses his fingers to Will's wet lips, then slowly in and against his tongue. he'll need to make a move to his desk, eventually, to retrieve something to make their coupling more fluid. for now, this will have to do. as he draws his fingers from Will's mouth, he can't help but taste them for himself. ]
You wanted more.
[ he says with a breathy, deep edge to his voice that almost sounds dangerous. leaning forward, he presses a wet finger against him again, this time more that just rubbing, he slides it inside of him. it's not too far, but enough for Will to get a feel for the intrusion. ]
Like this?
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Yes — ah, like that, like...
[ Will grips at Louis's hair again, heedless this time of how it might feel; he's only reacting to the new sensation inside of him, uncomfortable at first, but which he quickly acclimates to, far faster than even he himself thought he'd accommodate it. It feels wrong at first, but then strangely right, as though he's always been meant to be here, taking Louis's fingers in preparation for something more. Thicker, heavier.
That low rumble in Louis's voice has set Will's imagination aflame, even as the real thing is in front of him, rubbing and preparing him with surprising patience. Will stops chasing after Louis's kisses for a moment, but only because his eyelids have fluttered shut, as he pants, trying to catch his breath, as he with his own hips presses Louis's fingers deeper into him, until he's pressed against a spot that makes Will's knees give out, pleasure surging through him like an electric shock. His breath escapes him again, more voice in it this time; a high-pitched moan. ]
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much to his displeasure, he has to slip from inside Will in order to get something more feasible for their coupling. ]
Good. [ Louis leans over the desk, close to Will's ear as he allows him, for the briefest moment, to catch his breath. ] Quite good. You can come soon.
[ his arms and body are long enough to go in search of the drawer, which he does with surprising elegance, considering their position. Will gets the luxury of taking a moment to compose himself before Louis penetrates him again, more insistent this time, with two fingers that scissor open to stretch him. this time they're slick with a sweet smelling oil that doesn't smell too unlike Louis, himself. there's something smug about Louis' expression, between the raw pleasure and the knowledge of place inside of his partner, it feels as if he has a rush of power that grips him.
with a firm hand, he pulls Will's hips forward, taking his wrists in his hands and pinning them back to the desk so he's stretched over it and Louis can drink in the shape of him. Louis holds him there, tracing his palm down his hip, over the soft flesh of his thigh as if he may mean to devour him.
perhaps it's his last cruelty before he indulges Will in release. ]
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And yet, as impossibly cruel as he is — the eyes that search Will's body now speak only of ordinary lust, and temptation, and hunger. They speak of desire, and because of that desire, weakness.
This craving for Will's body — perhaps it will be Louis's undoing.
Not that Will is in control, at the moment. But he knows that. He's a vision, pinned to the desk with his arms above his head. So pretty and delicate; so lovely and luscious and vulnerable. The expression on his face is nothing less than ecstatic, the arousal between his legs is aching red, and that beautiful flush on his cheeks is something that can't possibly be feigned. The more Louis preps him, fucking into him with thick fingers and stretching him out in anticipation of something much thicker, the more Will moans, his pretty chest heaving with each breath. He's so responsive, and so tempting, and so good. ]
Louis, please...
[ He's said so much already. I want it. I want more. But this time, finally, at last, those honest words which no one save madmen and sycophants have ever whispered to Louis — ]
I want you...
[ What is it about Louis that he wants, in this moment? His power? His beauty? What does he truly know about the man that Louis Guiabern truly is?
Even knowing that he knows nothing, why does this somehow feel so right? ]
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going back to the Eldan Sanctum was never something he wanted to do, but it's intoxicating to see another elda, to trace Will's waist with the cool palm of his hand. there's more to touch, and he couldn't possibly fulfill all every part he'd like to trace in one sitting. Will's body will need to be pieced together in a mental map, until he's certain of every last detail.
such a pretty thing, he thinks, lashes low over his bright eyes as he watches the steady breath cause Will's chest to rise and fall. those words to cause him to pause. Louis can reason that Will is just muttering sweet nothings in the moment, drunk on arousal and begging for release. people want things from him, they do not want him. that is, essentially, how the world works. it's nice to hear, but he's not sure he believes it.
before he takes Will, he presses the length of his cock against between his legs, against his arousal and dragging himself down to his opening. he seems to be savoring this, either on making Will wait just a little longer or for his own pleasure. this time he doesn't linger long, with his fingers curled against Will's thigh, he spreads his legs and finally, finally pushes inside of him. it's tight, even if he's wet, and when he's inside he gives Will a moment to adjust to the intrusion, as it's wider than the fingers he was using before. it's a testament to his own discipline.
the fabric above the slivers of skin that Louis' is showing shifts under his heavy breath, and his hair falls over his shoulder like a curtain as he leans over Will. ]
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For a moment, it's a struggle to breathe. Not quite because Louis is so big that he defies natural instinct, but more just because Will isn't used to it, this kind of intrusion. It makes him cling to Louis's body, nails clawing down his back in a gentle way that will leave raised ridges rather than broken skin. Such a pretty, pretty thing, and he looks so good on Louis's cock, with lust in his mismatched eyes and a haze that is clouding his judgment. Feels good, too — impossibly tight and hot and wet, his sweet hole squeezing and pulsing down on Louis, promising him a world of pleasure, a tryst he'll never forget.
The monster that is Louis Guiabern would destroy Will with his appetites, surely? And yet the man that is Louis only waits patiently, all stoic military discipline despite the tension in his body. Maybe that's only his own sadism, the way he seems to like making Will wait. Maybe he's kinder than he himself thinks he is.
But Will likes it. How composed the "clemar" is. He likes it in a way where he wants to pull it apart. He's almost forgotten his own pleasure; right now, he wants to make Louis see stars. ]
Louis...
[ Once again, Will calls his name. Reaches into that curtain of beautiful hair, but only to push it away from Louis's face, so that Will can see the sheer perfection above him, gaze into those lovely long-lashed green eyes and know with complete certainty that he'll never again bed a more perfect specimen of a man.
Does he like me? Will wonders, hazily — me, not in a conceited way, not in any way that has to do with how he is as a person, or the promising wet passage between his legs, but rather: is Louis more thrilled to have him because he's an elda? The way his eyes scan Will's body, the way it seems as though he wants to drink in the shape of his hips and the slim dip of his waist — is it because he sees something Will doesn't?
Will can't fathom it — it's not as though the man has commented on his tribe before, it can't be because he's wanted one — and yet — why would such a man take Will as a lover otherwise? The novelty, the exoticism — surely that's the point. Surely it couldn't be because Will... because he likes anything about...
... ]
...You can move...
[ Once his breaths have stabilized, and he's shaking slightly less in his thighs, Will reaches out, greedy, trying to coax Louis into moving. The way he's squeezing down on Louis's cock, tight but yielding, perfectly needy — that in itself would be temptation, but the lovestruck look in his mismatched eyes, that's even more enticing. ]
I want... [ A breath, a whimper — ] I want to make you feel good...
[ A likely thing to say. The red-hot engorgement between his own legs says enough about how drunk on arousal he really is. ]
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(for the first time in a long time, he feels as if he's not alone. it's both comforting and terrifying, like the memories of loss accompanying those of intimacy – an uneasy place, harrowing and bright, consumed in flames.)
beneath him, his knees feel as if they'll buckle and give out, and his body sways as Will tugs him down, down, down and he goes down, down down. he can feel the shapes of his nails, so many little crescent moons, press the fabric of his uniform into his skin. it eats away at his exterior, threatening to expose his belly and break his composure into a thousand, million pieces. Will presses around his cock, hot and wet and willing, and thoughts of perfect meritocratic worlds are chased from his head. all he can focus on is the warmth spreading in his belly and Will's voice, quiet and urging, for him to move.
the rest of the sparse trinkets over his desk top shudder as he braces himself against the surface, holding on to the smooth top as if it would somehow give him enough grounding to regain his full constitution. he doesn't, because he can't. his hips rock into him, pressing into the heat, gliding slickly inside him. something like this could make him forget that world he wants to build, because it feels as if it's right here.
through half-lidded eyes and his curtain of hair, he watches Will body shift with each one of his thrusts, speeding up and slowing down as if he's testing the pace of the pleasure. his eyes trace his body from head to hip again, to the place where they're connected, and the way the movement of his body causes Will to shift beneath him.
as his breath labors his pace increases, a hand grasping onto Will's thigh to keep his legs spread. between them his back arches and face dips down close to the other elda, their noses brushing and breath mingling. suddenly it doesn't matter if Will means it or not, because it feels a little more like he does like this. ]
I want you too.
[ spoken in a deep, low whisper of a voice usually making commands rather than confessions. it feels like it may get lost, but he does mean it in this moment. ]
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And yet — doesn't Will have power over him, in turn? The minute Louis says I want you it's as if some kind of dam breaks; he reaches up, kisses Louis passionately, intensely, with an appetite that borders on madness. He wants the slick slipping of their tongues to be as demanding as the hot wet heaven of Louis's cock slamming deep into his core. He wants Louis to drown in him, to lose himself so vividly in the ecstasy of Will's tight body that he breaks his desk from how tightly he's gripped onto the edge of it.
Will decides that he doesn't want to think about the mission, not right now, in this moment; he wants to think about this beautiful man who has admitted to craving him. Wants to make him feel, wants him to taste a pleasure so encompassing that it might fix whatever is wrong with him, deep in his hollow heart.
Will can't think. He doesn't respond to Louis, not with proper words; the utterances he lets out are soft moans, little gasps, sweet sounds of pleasure. He can't even manage Louis's name. But as their noses brush again and Louis's cock presses into his prostate so insistently that Will tastes pleasure at the back of his tongue — right before he surrenders completely to the rapture of having sex with Louis, Will thinks that he understands, once and for all, that Louis Guiabern really is a man like any other man, and when they do this together, they can be equals; they can be one.
He comes, spine arched beautifully over Louis's desk, white cum in glorious contrast over his tan skin. So pretty, conquered by Louis — and yet somehow, it feels almost as though he dragged Louis down to a mortal level. ]
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it's nice to have everything pushed from his brain: his loneliness, his hate, and the storm of his own ambitions, in favor of this beautiful elda boy. for a rare moment, this is all he wants to think about, and all he wants to hear is Will's soft voice, moaning and gasping to the slick sound of each heavy thrust.
Will kisses him like a monster, and Louis responds with the same open fervor, open mouthed and wet, allowing Will to fill him up in turn. it's heated and messy, slick as they kiss again and Louis misses, pressing a kiss to Will's chin and leave a trail of saliva. he makes up for it by finding his lips again, pressing between them as he presses between his legs.
there are arms around him, gripping his clothing between tight knuckles in desperation for something to hang on to. one arm drags Will's hips closer, holds him steady to finish on the last few tight, short thrusts before he sheaths himself inside of him, the other elda shivering around him. he can feel the pulse around his cock, Will squeezing down on him as his body shifts, and it's too much. Louis can't keep hold of himself, and he releases with a shiver and a moan that's so low it sounds like a sigh. he pumps into him a few more times, as if he's milking them both, and draws out.
his chest is rising and falling steadily with each deep breath. it was as good as a long, exhausting battle, one where he won a great victory. the fresh feelings of intimacy are marking his brain as he clasps his pants, sliding an arm under Will's bare waist to sit him up on the desk so he can gather himself.
from a pocket on his uniform, he pulls out a cloth tissue. with his arm holding him around the waist, he cleans him up, as if that curiosity about his body has extended past the sex and into something else. ]
You kept up with me.
[ he sounds impressed. ]
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He doesn't want to. Wants to die with this as a secret between the both of them. And yet, even as he thinks this, he adores the way Louis is treating him, carefully gentle, like he's something precious. The hand that swipes up cum from over his belly is brisk and efficient, but curious, too. Lingering.
Maybe Will can delude himself — ]
It was... so good...
[ He wants more than this, craves it. Needs some kind of proof of deeper connection in the moment, because if there isn't one then he's only let himself be used for pleasure, and then what would that make him? Shyly, tentatively, with a sweetly unsure air about him that contrasts against the monstrous appetite he just demonstrated, Will noses into Louis's space again, and kisses him. Gently, he takes Louis's face in both hands to facilitate their joining. His chin is still wet with Louis's saliva; he has Louis's sweat on him, Louis's cum.
Will feels thoroughly marked — but even so. One more kiss, and one last kiss. He needs it. ]
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later, perhaps, it'll be more apparent, that there was a kinship that he felt, as if he were desperately reaching out to someone else, not just an elda, but an elda who felt the same way he did. in a world where they buried themselves and refused to surface, there was someone else who had a thirst for adventure, and wanted to leave the world behind better than the they found it.
Will's hands frame his face, and he doesn't protest. allows him to pull him in for another – one last – kiss. with a hand on the desk, he leans into him, not chaste nor desperate, but sealed like a promise. for how long, he allows Will to decide that for himself.
of course, the world will continue to turn after this. Will returning to his friends, and Louis plotting and against the political power of the church. the thought that Will could divulge their tryst to his friends had crossed his mind, but he believes Will too earnest for it. perhaps that he will have to explain his own feelings about Louis to them, as Louis would have to explain his own feelings about Will to anyone he told. it was better to not mention it; he liked the recklessness of this little secret, and the way it threatened to undo them both.
when the kiss is broken, and Will gets himself together to leave, Louis seats himself at his desk again as if they hadn't been sprawled all over it not moments again. he tilts his head with a smug little smile as Will takes the door handle. ]
If you are so inclined, I will call for you when the tailor has completed the work. You'll need to be fitted for any errors.
[ not only is he still sending for them, but he still remembers Will's measurements. oh, and he seems rather keen on doing this again. ]
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Then he takes the door handle, and Louis says that, and Will — Will falters. Yet again. Maybe it's because he has yet to figure out what he expects from himself. ]
...I understand. I'll... I'll return when you call for me, Lord Louis.
[ He can't say the words without stumbling on them, but the truth is —
The truth is that he's eager to do it again, too. The truth is that he's not certain he won't be mewling at Louis's door before long, desperate for one more kiss, one more touch.
(He doesn't make it until Louis's next summons. Will makes up a pretense to sneak into Louis's office not two days afterward.) ]
( continuation )