stardiving | IC Inbox (Victory Road)

[That all-too familiar bolt of levin shoots through Aymeric the moment their fingers brush. He looks up at Estinien, almost startled by the intensity of his voice and the contact they make. The declaration that follows leaves little time to him to catch his breath, either.

To fight a god -- To blaspheme for him. It should have made him shrivel, the idea of his dearest friend being damned, simply to make a statement regarding his own honor. Yet there's a romance to it, the likes of which was better contained to more salacious reading materials. A fantasy, rather than the tale shared between Ishgard's beloved Lord Speaker and her former Azure Dragoon.

With a swallow, Aymeric turns his hands 'round within Estinien's grasp. There's a delicacy to his grasp, as if fearing that holding too tight might make the entire moment shatter around him. He hesitates, even as he laces their fingers together.]

I would not have that, Estinien. I could not bear you being barred from her halls for me. But... it matters not. [He squeezes Estinien's hands, just barely.] We are worlds away from doctrine and decree. If ever there was a time for us to be at peace, and ever a desire for you to share that with me, 'twould be here.

[How he longs to cling to that moment, to pretend that Estinien's vitriol perhaps meant more than that it did. He wanted to keep those fingers laced between his for ages, perhaps never to let go.

Instead, his grip loosens. He shifts back, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

'Tis not solely for me to decide, however. While I suspect it is the truth that my heart yearns for yours, I will not declare the same in reverse. It is your decision as well.

[Estinien stares at Aymeric after he pulls away, after that declaration, and after saying that he's not sure how Estinien feels, if he feels the same way.

He'd thought he'd made that fairly clear. Apparently, he didn't. He's never been good with words.

Abruptly, he shoves back from the table with a growl and gets up. It's a matter of two steps to cross the distance between them--two steps and a massive leap, but he's excellent at jumping.

Before he can second-guess, he reaches down and grabs two fistfuls of Aymeric's overly-fine shirt and yanks him up to kiss him.

Let him try to find the ambiguity in that.]

[There is an added benefit to the speed in which Estinien moves -- just as the dragoon cannot second-guess his intentions, neither can Aymeric. Though a base instinct balks at being handled so fiercely, the rest of him is pliant beneath Estinien's touch. He has always, and will ever, trust the man with every bit of him. No harm would come to him by those hands.

And it doesn't. Though surprise stills him momentarily, it is only just that. Though it has been some time since his last dalliance with anyone, he is not inexperienced, has not forgotten what to do in this moment. His lips melt against Estinien's, shifting perhaps too eagerly to return that kiss. It takes everything in his power to keep from kissing him until their lips are blue and their lungs are breathless.

He settles with cradling Estinien's cheek as he pulls away. There's a wildness to his gaze, and naturally his cheeks are flushed a deep red. But more importantly, there's clear adoration there, never mind the obvious relief.

He clears his throat after a moment, glancing away almost shyly.]

... I believe you have made your stance quite clear.

[Estinien, on the other hand, is inexperienced--though he's making up for that in enthusiasm. He lets Aymeric pull away, though, because as much as he'd rather demonstrate how he feels, he knows it's important for Aymeric to talk.]

Good. I would hate to be misinterpreted.

[He does smooth Aymeric's shirt back down, though it is probably unfortunately still a bit wrinkled. Oops.]

[It's an odd reversal, Estinien being the one to fret and fuss. He lets the attempt to smoothe his shirt carry on for a few seconds, before finally laying his hands over Estinien's. Even in that brief moment, where their hands had pressed together, his mind had begun to run away with countless different fantasies. Of how those hands might feel against his face. Or perhaps --

He lifts one up, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm, then flips it over to do the same on the opposite side. Even these small points of contact feel right.]

I suppose it should be asked, though. What now?

[It's only this once and it's only because he knows Aymeric will give him grief about the wrinkles.

Well. Partially about that. Now that everything is out in the open so to speak--and Aymeric has asked 'what now', he realizes that he truly doesn't know. He'd barely begun to think about any sort of attraction to others when he was a child before the destruction of Ferndale--and then his only interest had been the pursuit of strength, his quest to become the Azure. By the time his age group was pursuing the sorts of interpersonal relationships rife in the ranks of the Temple Knights, he'd developed such a fearsome reputation that no one was interested in approaching him for any kind of tryst, not that he would have welcomed such advances. He's completely adrift.

(Well. There are half-recalled memories that weren't his, but he and Aymeric certainly weren't going to be engaging in any sort of courtship flights.)

Despite having just initiated things, so to speak, there's something more fearfully intimate about Aymeric kissing his hand, on top of realizing that he doesn't know how to answer that question, and he blushes bright red.]

To be honest? I've no swiving clue.

Edited 2022-06-02 05:03 (UTC)

[There's something about that flush that's positively endearing. A part of him wants to take Estinien's face into his hands once more, press kisses to those flushed cheeks and draw it out further. His fingers twitch, tips itching with the desire, but he bites it down. Instead, he presses one hand hand into his lap, glancing to the side even as the tips of his own ears warm. The other remains firmly fastened to Estinien's.

For now, he offers a reassuring smile, shaking his head even as he does.]

Mayhap that is a good thing. 'Tis better to stumble together, would you not agree?

[His thumb swoops over the spot he had only just kissed. He can practically feel his heart in his throat, and though it all seems so juvenile, he doesn't dislike it.]

[Fury preserve, he's awakened some kind of affection monster.

He nods, relieved that seems to be the end of it--of that question at least.]

Little needs to change.

...save that I suppose we no longer need request a room with two beds.

[Halone, if that doesn't awaken something horrendously embarrassing within him. He closes his eyes, feeling a wash of heat spread over his features. Save him, please.]

I... suppose we do not.

[Not that they haven't shared beds before, of course. And even now, it wouldn't be the first time they woke wrapped up in one another. But there's something entirely different about doing so with intent.]

I shall do my best not to kick while I slumber.

IC Inbox (Victory Road)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject