Will's not proud of it, but his voice cracks in a way that belies his utter and complete shock at this turn of events.
He freezes up, limbs locking into place like he's a puppet with stiff joints, ready to be posed by Louis. A ruddy flush is creeping up his neck, coloring the olive tint of his cheekbones; his mind and heart are both already racing ahead to what the next ten minutes of his life will be like, and how he can get out of this without losing his dignity. Most of the time, Will acts so pliant and doll-like and detached that it seems like it might be hard to get a rise out of him in any way — but now? oh, now he looks very much alive. ]
I — b-but surely there's, um — it wouldn't be hard for you to employ someone for this purpose, Lord Louis — and my... my friends could also... take my measurements for you. You don't need to...
[ His heart is most definitely beating too fast right now. What is this about? Does he have to take his clothes off? Is this all some sort of pretense for... inspecting him? Perhaps Louis thinks Will has some sort of formula on his body? ]
[ perhaps inspecting him is not entirely incorrect, though inspecting him for what seems as if it's a mystery only Louis is currently privy to, and seems all too satisfied to keep it that way. ]
You are already here, it would be convenient, and more timely, to pass along to the findings myself. Do you believe my measurement skills not up to your standard?
[ despite Louis' penchant toward honesty, he also can't pass up a good game. it's rare to see Will so lively, and he finds himself rather taken with the way he's suddenly falling over himself. he does wonder if he's hiding some sort of secret that will be detrimental to both of their covers (Will's, and Louis' knowledge of Will's), but he finds the temptation, the risk, all too tantalizing not to indulge in.
(there is a part of him that is curious to his own feelings about being close to another Elda, as it's been so, so long, and the possibility is right there, standing in front of him like a skittish doe.) ]
I'll hear your concerns of it, but we need not idle too long.
[ Will is starting to feel as though his face is utterly aflame, and he needs some Fermis Ointment to put out the burn. Why is he so nervous?
The more Louis stares at him, the more Will becomes aware — not that this is the first time he's thought this — that the man is, tragically, very pretty. He generally tries not to linger overmuch on this thought, but it's true: the military officer's striking good looks account for why he has so much of the populace under his sway, and why so many of his subordinates, like the necromancer Zorba, fawn over his every word. He is beautiful and tall and well-built and intimidating, and for some reason he seems very fixated on doing this, and Will himself is...
One of his hands clutches desperately at the strap over his chest. ]
...Do I have to undress? I'm not...
[ He is grasping for excuses but finds none in particular that he can use. Finally, sheepishly, Will settles on the most awkward, but honest, excuse for his behavior in this situation: ]
[ out of all of the things Will could say, that takes Louis somewhat by surprise. a pitfall of confidence? ]
If you were anything less than impressive you would not be here. Do not concern yourself with that.
[ it does not sound like a comfort, nor a compliment, but a matter of fact. whether or not Will stands with or against him, he is certain that is true. Louis Guiabern does not settle for anything less than extraordinary in either his rivals or companions. ]
As far as your clothing goes, your jacket and anything that would obscure the measurement should be removed.
[ Louis is already removing the large, shoulder covering from his armor, as it would be difficult to get into Will's personal space with it on. unfortunately for Will, he does not look any less impressive with it off: his posture is still perfect, his shoulders are still wide, and the fitted military uniform compliments the curve of his waist. ]
One simply does not say no to Louis Guiabern, and it's not as though he's said or done anything unkind, here. Louis somehow looks very different without his large cape, and yet not very different at all; his would-be eldan assassin takes in the drastic curve of his waist a bit longer than he really needs to, wonders what it would be like to put his hands there. Will has half of a fantasy of assassinating him right here and now, but no, it won't work, he can't possibly get away with it given the king's magic, and he doesn't have a weapon, and that breastplate looks intimidating as ever. He weighs his options again and finds none that he can get away with.
After another brief pause, Will gives in.
The first thing to go is his bag, the large one whose strap he is currently holding. Once he's set that carefully on the floor, Will removes his waist-belt, the one that holds the frog of his sword to his hip. The next things to go are his gloves and the small gorget around his neck, and then the buttons of his white coat, all the way down where its hem is weathered with dirt and mud that never seems to wash out. He drapes this calmly over a chair.
His own waist is very slim. The curve of his rear might charitably be called... pleasing. Not very impressive, sure, if one's standard for impressive men is Louis. But then, no one on the Charadrius would ever call Fidelio unimpressive for being small, and Will has a sort of grace, a nearly feminine look to his chest and the fine bones of his fingers, that Fidelio does not.
Hesitating just slightly, Will also removes the white vest he typically wears over his innermost layers; now he is clad only in his thin tunic and high-waisted trousers. Awkwardly and stiffly, he turns back to Louis. ]
...Is this alright?
[ He could strip down to his undergarments, but this is already what he typically sleeps in... ]
[ Louis would most certainly be wide open if Will decided to attack him there, and it would be the two of them against one another, one to one, which Louis would also find entertaining. he wouldn't mind a good scruff if the two of them got into it like this, even if Will managed to kill him here. that would certainly be something, wouldn't it? ]
Come.
[ there's no hesitation, no response to Will as Louis marches over with a leather strip in hand, marked for each measure. perhaps it's somewhat of a surprise that a man of his stature has practical skills, as he was sure to hone them himself. he has a firm grip as he takes Will's shoulders, drawing him upright to stand up straight to get proper measurements. while his hands are strong, there's an elegant, almost delicate touch that's required of him as a mage, having commanded both the sword and elements. there's finesse needed in both.
there's no shame in posing Will's body, taking his wrist and measuring from hand to shoulder, then getting closer and wrapping the strap around his middle, just beneath his arms and across his chest. just over his shirt, Louis' knuckles brush against his chest, the only thing between them a flimsy layer of fabric as he pulls the strap taut. ]
Hold still.
[ as he reads the number and keeps Will like this for just a moment. ]
[ Will holds himself stiffly, doing his best not to react to the measuring tape bound taut across his chest. He tries to hold his breath at first, nearly fearful to even exhale on Louis's perfect face, but he soon can't hold it, and breathes out slowly through his nose, shivering slightly at the end of the exhale. Something about being fixated on by someone so impossibly handsome is sending tingles creeping through his scalp.
His face still feels as though it's been set aflame. At the same time, Will regrets shedding so many layers. He should have at least left his white vest on; stripped down to the last layer, Will shivers again. He's not sure if the temperature in the room is to blame, or the knuckles pressing lightly over his ribs; either way, Will's cheeks are pink and his nipples are stiff beneath his black shirt.
He bites his bottom lip, trying not to fidget. Where is he supposed to look? Into Louis's long-lashed blue eyes as they stare right through him, or somewhere else? Awkwardly, he finds himself tracing the shape of Louis's mouth. There is a sort of cruelty even in the shape and set of his lips, but they look so plush...
His heart is hammering in his chest. He stays silent. Louis is a busy man. Surely if he just complies with this odd whim, he'll be dismissed eventually... ]
...Were you ever... a tailor, Lord Louis...?
[ Ah, why did he say anything? Stupid, stupid, stupid... ]
[ ah, he's nervous. there's something cute about him being this flustered, perhaps because there wasn't much that would illicit certain responses out of his fellow elda. Will's heat is so deep, he can feel it on his hands as he glides over his body. his fingers trace down his waist, the loop of the strap lowering with him. the touch is surprisingly gentle, as if he's searching for something as he presses his palm against the curve of Will's waist, just above his hip.
he seems distracted at Will's voice, but looks up with a knowing smile. ]
No, but I find such skills useful. There are others I pride myself on, as well.
[ he wraps the strap around his hand and tugs, pulling the loop closed around Will's hips. leaning in, the long hair at his shoulder drapes forward like a breezy curtain, and it becomes more and more difficult for Will not to breathe on his face. as he does, he tugs Will's hips forward, just a little.
Louis smells good, perhaps because he hasn't been out to battle, or doing much that would cause physical exertion, but there's the light musky scent of his soap, perhaps slightly floral.
long, gloved fingers tilt Will's chin up so he can meet his eyes, and those cruel, plush lips get closer and closer until they're brushing together. it is a surprisingly soft kiss. ]
He sort of suspected... that it would turn into this sort of thing, eventually.
He hadn't wanted to say it where Gallica or Strohl or Hulkenberg could hear, because they would have all been scandalized, and maybe a bit tempted to try and protect him. Heismay had actually caught on, but he'd hesitated, balked at giving Will a real warning, perhaps because his sense of fatherly denial came into conflict with what he knew to be true about powerful men and the ways of the world. A word for you, Captain, he'd ventured, almost uncertainly. The way that Louis looks at you —
Then he'd caught himself, and seemed to reconsider, with a slight twitching of his long ears. ...No, never mind, he said. Forget I said anything.
Will had tipped his head quizzically to one side, then, and just nodded. But deep down, he knew, too. The kind of thing a former member of the Shadowguard, and a spy for the Resistance, would know: sometimes, powerful men grow fond of pretty young things in their service. And sometimes, those pretty young things can use that attraction to their advantage.
Heismay probably thought that he was protecting Will by not explicitly mentioning that seduction could be part of their toolkit in the approach. But Will already knew, himself. As naive as he can be to the ways of the world — he knew, to a degree, that the intense way Louis gazed at him might lead to this sort of thing. That asking him to strip might lead to this sort of thing.
And the truth is: Will isn't against it. Not really. The mission is more important than his life. The prince's survival is more important than his chastity.
He can't say that he doesn't want it.
So it's easy. Really. He isn't even acting, when he melts into the kiss, breath stuttering softly against Louis's lips before they connect with his own in a kiss that is surprisingly tender, surprisingly considerate. Will had braced himself for worse. A crushing, bruising thing that demanded more than it gave — that's what he expected from Louis Guiabern. Instead, he gets a gallant hand on his chin, guiding him into a kiss that Will himself pursues and leans into. He's the one who presses into it. He's the one who nibbles at Louis's bottom lip, tender as a kitten begging for attention.
He shouldn't. Strohl will be scandalized. Hulkenberg will kill him. Gallica will never look at him the same way again.
Louis just smells so good. ]
...Is kissing... one of the things you pride yourself on?
[ What is he doing? What is he thinking? He should hate himself; he should run away. He tells himself that this is only another mask he's wearing, another Archetype he's put on for the journey. And yet, deep down, he knows as much as this is a new mask, it's also the truth. ]
[ there are plenty among his ranks that desire him, some louder than others. there's Zorba, fanatically obsessed, and Glodell, who gripes about the rift of power between them, but has traced his form beneath his armor with his eyes all the same. there are other soldiers too, he knows. some that he has seduced with words of revolution, or his handsome face, or a combination of both. Louis never cared for it, not really, when there was so much else for him to lay his ambition upon.
perhaps it took Will's boldness to spit in the face of the church to make him sit up in his seat, and consider the first stir of desire inside of him. it was a puncture to the expected, and shattered his boredom. ]
No, I hadn't much time for it. But, perhaps after more ...
[ he sounds slightly amused at his own admission, but it would be weak to lie about about it, his own experience considered. such a trifling thing, the want and need for affection, but he tells himself this is different. if Will's friends knew, they'd certainly object, and that makes this all the more thrilling.
as a powerful man, he certainly has the means of getting what he wants. this is no different, but there is a sort of pride he takes in people coming to him of their own free will, and when Will leans in, he responds in turn. it could be a rouse, of course, that has crossed his mind, but he would trust Will enough to have him come after him with more than just blind heat during a kiss.
(it was no wonder Basilio was teasing him.)
an arm takes the place of the strap and rests just over his backside, pulling him forward into the next kiss, more demanding than the last, but still somewhat more curious than crushing. he teases his lips apart, darting in with his tongue as if he were making the first move in combat. ]
[ As much as he's aware of how the power dynamics fall here, and the precarious situation in which he can neither run away or refuse Louis's advances in a way that matters, Will is falling into temptation, anyway. There is something dangerously, sickeningly addictive about the weight of the man's hand over his lower back.
Louis Guiabern could have almost anyone in all of Euchronia; he has men and women falling at his feet; half the soldiers on the Charadrius think that he's in some torrid sexual affair with the irresistible Junah. And yet, for some reason — if he isn't lying, and Will can't fathom why the man would lie over something so banal — the only person to have ever truly caught his eye for a secret tryst is Will. Why? Is it because he's an elda? Because he's a man? Because he has powers that defy all modern understanding of magic?
(Belatedly, Will also wonders exactly what Louis said to Basilio to make him react in that particular way. Why did Basilio know? What does the paripus think now, of the young elda his clemar lord called to his office for a bit of fun?)
Louis likes it when Will is bold, so Will catches the man's tongue with his lips, sucks on it a little, in a way that lingers over the smooth muscle and sends pleasure careening through both of their bodies, hitting sensitive nerves and sparking hot between Will's legs. But every movement is still light and gentle. He rather likes it, the way that he and Louis are being so, so gentle with each other. A little string of their saliva, mixed and mingled, connects their lips when Will parts for breath; eagerly, he kisses Louis again to lap it up. ]
I think you're very good at it already...
[ He might not even be aware of it — there is a sort of innocence to him even now, the sort of thing some men burn to have the privilege of shattering — but Will is very, very seductive, in the moment. Such a remarkably pretty young thing, pressed up against Louis's hips, looking at him with adoration in those jewel-like, mismatched eyes. His kisses are sweet and sensual and eager; his tight pants are doing very little to hide his building arousal. His slim fingers reach up to undo the straps holding Louis's breastplate to his shoulders — he wants to see what the man looks like without all his finery, if Louis will let him.
Who can blame him? A good portion of Louis's own men would kill and maim and go to war for even a glimpse of their leader's bare skin. ]
[ while Louis expected some complacency, he hadn't expected this sort of eagerness from his younger companion. it draws him in further, keeping the fine arc in his back so Will can play between their parted mouths. Louis was never one to strive in search of connection, that had all be burned to the ground so long ago, but in his interest for rebellion, he perhaps found a small fragment of it as he built his own center of power. it may not last, and one of them may die, but what does last? is it anything of worth?
Will reaches for the straps of his armor and Louis leans into him so he can remove it, his hair brushing against Will's cheek as he drapes it out of the way, as he's done a hundred times before. he's rather amused at the fearlessness in which Will's determination works to undress him without asking, and with a sort of quiet confidence that he doesn't expect from him, but pleases him all the same. ]
Is this what you want?
[ the breastplate slips from his chest and into Will's grasp as Louis obliges without resistance. they could play this little game, and he wants to hear it come from Will's mouth.
join me, is almost what he wants to say. join me.
when he's gone and left forgotten somewhere in the room, the arm holding Will's back slips under his rear and lifts him, single-handedly, from the floor and sitting him on the smooth surface of the desk. Louis leans over him, tilting his head down for another kiss. it gives Will a little more leverage to be forward if he wants to be, quite in the way that Louis seems to like. ]
[ He makes it all feel so easy. So, so much easier than Will ever thought it would be. Being swept up by that one arm, carried, gently deposited on the desk. Will draws his arms up over Louis's shoulders of his own volition, kissing back, almost coquettish, in the way that Junah would be if there were ever any credence to the rumors that Louis was bedding her. Instead, it's Will in the position of scandalous lover, and the scandal would be so much worse if anyone found out.
It's not as though he's forgotten that Louis is a monster. It's just — there's no reason not to do this, in the moment, and it feels good. ]
Yeah. [ He says this close enough to Louis's ear to tickle his eardrum. ] It is what I want.
[ Will's whisper is a little husky, a little breathless. Completely irresistible, in the way that it promises sex and sin in a way that one wouldn't expect from his shy, sweet face. He hooks his legs around Louis's waist; the mission isn't making him do that. He runs one hand through Louis's fine hair, fingers tracing the curve of his round ear; the mission isn't making him do that. His thighs are trembling, but not in a way that contradicts his confidence. It's just — this is his first time doing anything like this, and with a man so outwardly perfect that it beggars belief.
(How will he explain this to the prince, one day, when everything is over? Will he explain it at all? Is this a secret that will die with him, and with Louis Guiabern?)
Still very daring, still very confident, Will undoes the hooks holding Louis's collar together, works his way down to the buttons over his chest. Once the man's pale neck is bared, Will seizes onto it, latching on with his mouth and sucking a little. It's not hard enough to leave a mark; he's not vicious enough for it, but he's trying, and it still feels like a lover's gesture. So intoxicating, in the way that he's so daring, but so darling, at the same time. ]
[ Louis Guiabern is a monster, and after this he will go back to his plots of magnicide and magical experimentation and torture of his assassins. however, for this single, glorious moment, he's Will's: no assassination plots, no authoritarian rule, and no convoluted plays at power. his focus is here, and it feels good.
while he's not used allowing himself to be touched, he takes it with grace, leaning into the touch as Will explores what skin is exposed. there's a lot to cover, and he keeps it that way, knowing what's left to the imagination, and what people don't see is just as important as what they do. it feels good to shed it, to allow Will's fingers beneath the fabric and against skin that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. perhaps it is because Will is an elda that he allows this, because he's been so lonely without it, as much as he'd rather not face it, and instead face forward.
Will is gifted with a soft, quiet gasp that flutters into an angelic sigh. against his better judgement he tilts his head, giving his would-be elda assassin access to the smooth, flawless curve of his jugular, arching down into his throat. the front of his jacket tugs open, exposing his collar, and what looks like the edges of a scar in the shape of a bursting star.
his hair sweeps over the two of them, and he smells headier there, the scent of his bath salts and soaps mixed with sweat and the prospect of sex. ]
Say it again for me, tell me how much ...
[ it almost sounds like a demand rather than a request. his fingers drag down Will's side, tracing the curve of his hip and then between his legs, cupping his arousal into his palm and fondling him over his pants. long fingers trace the shape of his length through the fabric, merciless and somewhat unsatisfying, but he seems to know that as he milks him through his clothing. ]
[ 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. ]
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no subject
[ Right. Well.
Will's not proud of it, but his voice cracks in a way that belies his utter and complete shock at this turn of events.
He freezes up, limbs locking into place like he's a puppet with stiff joints, ready to be posed by Louis. A ruddy flush is creeping up his neck, coloring the olive tint of his cheekbones; his mind and heart are both already racing ahead to what the next ten minutes of his life will be like, and how he can get out of this without losing his dignity. Most of the time, Will acts so pliant and doll-like and detached that it seems like it might be hard to get a rise out of him in any way — but now? oh, now he looks very much alive. ]
I — b-but surely there's, um — it wouldn't be hard for you to employ someone for this purpose, Lord Louis — and my... my friends could also... take my measurements for you. You don't need to...
[ His heart is most definitely beating too fast right now. What is this about? Does he have to take his clothes off? Is this all some sort of pretense for... inspecting him? Perhaps Louis thinks Will has some sort of formula on his body? ]
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You are already here, it would be convenient, and more timely, to pass along to the findings myself. Do you believe my measurement skills not up to your standard?
[ despite Louis' penchant toward honesty, he also can't pass up a good game. it's rare to see Will so lively, and he finds himself rather taken with the way he's suddenly falling over himself. he does wonder if he's hiding some sort of secret that will be detrimental to both of their covers (Will's, and Louis' knowledge of Will's), but he finds the temptation, the risk, all too tantalizing not to indulge in.
(there is a part of him that is curious to his own feelings about being close to another Elda, as it's been so, so long, and the possibility is right there, standing in front of him like a skittish doe.) ]
I'll hear your concerns of it, but we need not idle too long.
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[ Will is starting to feel as though his face is utterly aflame, and he needs some Fermis Ointment to put out the burn. Why is he so nervous?
The more Louis stares at him, the more Will becomes aware — not that this is the first time he's thought this — that the man is, tragically, very pretty. He generally tries not to linger overmuch on this thought, but it's true: the military officer's striking good looks account for why he has so much of the populace under his sway, and why so many of his subordinates, like the necromancer Zorba, fawn over his every word. He is beautiful and tall and well-built and intimidating, and for some reason he seems very fixated on doing this, and Will himself is...
One of his hands clutches desperately at the strap over his chest. ]
...Do I have to undress? I'm not...
[ He is grasping for excuses but finds none in particular that he can use. Finally, sheepishly, Will settles on the most awkward, but honest, excuse for his behavior in this situation: ]
I'm not... a very... impressive... man.
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If you were anything less than impressive you would not be here. Do not concern yourself with that.
[ it does not sound like a comfort, nor a compliment, but a matter of fact. whether or not Will stands with or against him, he is certain that is true. Louis Guiabern does not settle for anything less than extraordinary in either his rivals or companions. ]
As far as your clothing goes, your jacket and anything that would obscure the measurement should be removed.
[ Louis is already removing the large, shoulder covering from his armor, as it would be difficult to get into Will's personal space with it on. unfortunately for Will, he does not look any less impressive with it off: his posture is still perfect, his shoulders are still wide, and the fitted military uniform compliments the curve of his waist. ]
no subject
One simply does not say no to Louis Guiabern, and it's not as though he's said or done anything unkind, here. Louis somehow looks very different without his large cape, and yet not very different at all; his would-be eldan assassin takes in the drastic curve of his waist a bit longer than he really needs to, wonders what it would be like to put his hands there. Will has half of a fantasy of assassinating him right here and now, but no, it won't work, he can't possibly get away with it given the king's magic, and he doesn't have a weapon, and that breastplate looks intimidating as ever. He weighs his options again and finds none that he can get away with.
After another brief pause, Will gives in.
The first thing to go is his bag, the large one whose strap he is currently holding. Once he's set that carefully on the floor, Will removes his waist-belt, the one that holds the frog of his sword to his hip. The next things to go are his gloves and the small gorget around his neck, and then the buttons of his white coat, all the way down where its hem is weathered with dirt and mud that never seems to wash out. He drapes this calmly over a chair.
His own waist is very slim. The curve of his rear might charitably be called... pleasing. Not very impressive, sure, if one's standard for impressive men is Louis. But then, no one on the Charadrius would ever call Fidelio unimpressive for being small, and Will has a sort of grace, a nearly feminine look to his chest and the fine bones of his fingers, that Fidelio does not.
Hesitating just slightly, Will also removes the white vest he typically wears over his innermost layers; now he is clad only in his thin tunic and high-waisted trousers. Awkwardly and stiffly, he turns back to Louis. ]
...Is this alright?
[ He could strip down to his undergarments, but this is already what he typically sleeps in... ]
no subject
Come.
[ there's no hesitation, no response to Will as Louis marches over with a leather strip in hand, marked for each measure. perhaps it's somewhat of a surprise that a man of his stature has practical skills, as he was sure to hone them himself. he has a firm grip as he takes Will's shoulders, drawing him upright to stand up straight to get proper measurements. while his hands are strong, there's an elegant, almost delicate touch that's required of him as a mage, having commanded both the sword and elements. there's finesse needed in both.
there's no shame in posing Will's body, taking his wrist and measuring from hand to shoulder, then getting closer and wrapping the strap around his middle, just beneath his arms and across his chest. just over his shirt, Louis' knuckles brush against his chest, the only thing between them a flimsy layer of fabric as he pulls the strap taut. ]
Hold still.
[ as he reads the number and keeps Will like this for just a moment. ]
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His face still feels as though it's been set aflame. At the same time, Will regrets shedding so many layers. He should have at least left his white vest on; stripped down to the last layer, Will shivers again. He's not sure if the temperature in the room is to blame, or the knuckles pressing lightly over his ribs; either way, Will's cheeks are pink and his nipples are stiff beneath his black shirt.
He bites his bottom lip, trying not to fidget. Where is he supposed to look? Into Louis's long-lashed blue eyes as they stare right through him, or somewhere else? Awkwardly, he finds himself tracing the shape of Louis's mouth. There is a sort of cruelty even in the shape and set of his lips, but they look so plush...
His heart is hammering in his chest. He stays silent. Louis is a busy man. Surely if he just complies with this odd whim, he'll be dismissed eventually... ]
...Were you ever... a tailor, Lord Louis...?
[ Ah, why did he say anything? Stupid, stupid, stupid... ]
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he seems distracted at Will's voice, but looks up with a knowing smile. ]
No, but I find such skills useful. There are others I pride myself on, as well.
[ he wraps the strap around his hand and tugs, pulling the loop closed around Will's hips. leaning in, the long hair at his shoulder drapes forward like a breezy curtain, and it becomes more and more difficult for Will not to breathe on his face. as he does, he tugs Will's hips forward, just a little.
Louis smells good, perhaps because he hasn't been out to battle, or doing much that would cause physical exertion, but there's the light musky scent of his soap, perhaps slightly floral.
long, gloved fingers tilt Will's chin up so he can meet his eyes, and those cruel, plush lips get closer and closer until they're brushing together. it is a surprisingly soft kiss. ]
no subject
Of course.
He sort of suspected... that it would turn into this sort of thing, eventually.
He hadn't wanted to say it where Gallica or Strohl or Hulkenberg could hear, because they would have all been scandalized, and maybe a bit tempted to try and protect him. Heismay had actually caught on, but he'd hesitated, balked at giving Will a real warning, perhaps because his sense of fatherly denial came into conflict with what he knew to be true about powerful men and the ways of the world. A word for you, Captain, he'd ventured, almost uncertainly. The way that Louis looks at you —
Then he'd caught himself, and seemed to reconsider, with a slight twitching of his long ears. ...No, never mind, he said. Forget I said anything.
Will had tipped his head quizzically to one side, then, and just nodded. But deep down, he knew, too. The kind of thing a former member of the Shadowguard, and a spy for the Resistance, would know: sometimes, powerful men grow fond of pretty young things in their service. And sometimes, those pretty young things can use that attraction to their advantage.
Heismay probably thought that he was protecting Will by not explicitly mentioning that seduction could be part of their toolkit in the approach. But Will already knew, himself. As naive as he can be to the ways of the world — he knew, to a degree, that the intense way Louis gazed at him might lead to this sort of thing. That asking him to strip might lead to this sort of thing.
And the truth is: Will isn't against it. Not really. The mission is more important than his life. The prince's survival is more important than his chastity.
He can't say that he doesn't want it.
So it's easy. Really. He isn't even acting, when he melts into the kiss, breath stuttering softly against Louis's lips before they connect with his own in a kiss that is surprisingly tender, surprisingly considerate. Will had braced himself for worse. A crushing, bruising thing that demanded more than it gave — that's what he expected from Louis Guiabern. Instead, he gets a gallant hand on his chin, guiding him into a kiss that Will himself pursues and leans into. He's the one who presses into it. He's the one who nibbles at Louis's bottom lip, tender as a kitten begging for attention.
He shouldn't. Strohl will be scandalized. Hulkenberg will kill him. Gallica will never look at him the same way again.
Louis just smells so good. ]
...Is kissing... one of the things you pride yourself on?
[ What is he doing? What is he thinking? He should hate himself; he should run away. He tells himself that this is only another mask he's wearing, another Archetype he's put on for the journey. And yet, deep down, he knows as much as this is a new mask, it's also the truth. ]
no subject
perhaps it took Will's boldness to spit in the face of the church to make him sit up in his seat, and consider the first stir of desire inside of him. it was a puncture to the expected, and shattered his boredom. ]
No, I hadn't much time for it. But, perhaps after more ...
[ he sounds slightly amused at his own admission, but it would be weak to lie about about it, his own experience considered. such a trifling thing, the want and need for affection, but he tells himself this is different. if Will's friends knew, they'd certainly object, and that makes this all the more thrilling.
as a powerful man, he certainly has the means of getting what he wants. this is no different, but there is a sort of pride he takes in people coming to him of their own free will, and when Will leans in, he responds in turn. it could be a rouse, of course, that has crossed his mind, but he would trust Will enough to have him come after him with more than just blind heat during a kiss.
(it was no wonder Basilio was teasing him.)
an arm takes the place of the strap and rests just over his backside, pulling him forward into the next kiss, more demanding than the last, but still somewhat more curious than crushing. he teases his lips apart, darting in with his tongue as if he were making the first move in combat. ]
no subject
Louis Guiabern could have almost anyone in all of Euchronia; he has men and women falling at his feet; half the soldiers on the Charadrius think that he's in some torrid sexual affair with the irresistible Junah. And yet, for some reason — if he isn't lying, and Will can't fathom why the man would lie over something so banal — the only person to have ever truly caught his eye for a secret tryst is Will. Why? Is it because he's an elda? Because he's a man? Because he has powers that defy all modern understanding of magic?
(Belatedly, Will also wonders exactly what Louis said to Basilio to make him react in that particular way. Why did Basilio know? What does the paripus think now, of the young elda his clemar lord called to his office for a bit of fun?)
Louis likes it when Will is bold, so Will catches the man's tongue with his lips, sucks on it a little, in a way that lingers over the smooth muscle and sends pleasure careening through both of their bodies, hitting sensitive nerves and sparking hot between Will's legs. But every movement is still light and gentle. He rather likes it, the way that he and Louis are being so, so gentle with each other. A little string of their saliva, mixed and mingled, connects their lips when Will parts for breath; eagerly, he kisses Louis again to lap it up. ]
I think you're very good at it already...
[ He might not even be aware of it — there is a sort of innocence to him even now, the sort of thing some men burn to have the privilege of shattering — but Will is very, very seductive, in the moment. Such a remarkably pretty young thing, pressed up against Louis's hips, looking at him with adoration in those jewel-like, mismatched eyes. His kisses are sweet and sensual and eager; his tight pants are doing very little to hide his building arousal. His slim fingers reach up to undo the straps holding Louis's breastplate to his shoulders — he wants to see what the man looks like without all his finery, if Louis will let him.
Who can blame him? A good portion of Louis's own men would kill and maim and go to war for even a glimpse of their leader's bare skin. ]
no subject
Will reaches for the straps of his armor and Louis leans into him so he can remove it, his hair brushing against Will's cheek as he drapes it out of the way, as he's done a hundred times before. he's rather amused at the fearlessness in which Will's determination works to undress him without asking, and with a sort of quiet confidence that he doesn't expect from him, but pleases him all the same. ]
Is this what you want?
[ the breastplate slips from his chest and into Will's grasp as Louis obliges without resistance. they could play this little game, and he wants to hear it come from Will's mouth.
join me, is almost what he wants to say. join me.
when he's gone and left forgotten somewhere in the room, the arm holding Will's back slips under his rear and lifts him, single-handedly, from the floor and sitting him on the smooth surface of the desk. Louis leans over him, tilting his head down for another kiss. it gives Will a little more leverage to be forward if he wants to be, quite in the way that Louis seems to like. ]
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It's not as though he's forgotten that Louis is a monster. It's just — there's no reason not to do this, in the moment, and it feels good. ]
Yeah. [ He says this close enough to Louis's ear to tickle his eardrum. ] It is what I want.
[ Will's whisper is a little husky, a little breathless. Completely irresistible, in the way that it promises sex and sin in a way that one wouldn't expect from his shy, sweet face. He hooks his legs around Louis's waist; the mission isn't making him do that. He runs one hand through Louis's fine hair, fingers tracing the curve of his round ear; the mission isn't making him do that. His thighs are trembling, but not in a way that contradicts his confidence. It's just — this is his first time doing anything like this, and with a man so outwardly perfect that it beggars belief.
(How will he explain this to the prince, one day, when everything is over? Will he explain it at all? Is this a secret that will die with him, and with Louis Guiabern?)
Still very daring, still very confident, Will undoes the hooks holding Louis's collar together, works his way down to the buttons over his chest. Once the man's pale neck is bared, Will seizes onto it, latching on with his mouth and sucking a little. It's not hard enough to leave a mark; he's not vicious enough for it, but he's trying, and it still feels like a lover's gesture. So intoxicating, in the way that he's so daring, but so darling, at the same time. ]
no subject
while he's not used allowing himself to be touched, he takes it with grace, leaning into the touch as Will explores what skin is exposed. there's a lot to cover, and he keeps it that way, knowing what's left to the imagination, and what people don't see is just as important as what they do. it feels good to shed it, to allow Will's fingers beneath the fabric and against skin that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. perhaps it is because Will is an elda that he allows this, because he's been so lonely without it, as much as he'd rather not face it, and instead face forward.
Will is gifted with a soft, quiet gasp that flutters into an angelic sigh. against his better judgement he tilts his head, giving his would-be elda assassin access to the smooth, flawless curve of his jugular, arching down into his throat. the front of his jacket tugs open, exposing his collar, and what looks like the edges of a scar in the shape of a bursting star.
his hair sweeps over the two of them, and he smells headier there, the scent of his bath salts and soaps mixed with sweat and the prospect of sex. ]
Say it again for me, tell me how much ...
[ it almost sounds like a demand rather than a request. his fingers drag down Will's side, tracing the curve of his hip and then between his legs, cupping his arousal into his palm and fondling him over his pants. long fingers trace the shape of his length through the fabric, merciless and somewhat unsatisfying, but he seems to know that as he milks him through his clothing. ]
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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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