[ 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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no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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 )