Lust - Last Time
Feb. 15th, 2006 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanFandom: Gankutsuou
Characters/Pairing: Albert de Morcerf/Franz d'Epinay
Prompt: 6, Lust
Word Count: 445
Rating: R (sexuality, unsurprisingly)
Disclaimer: Characters, situation, etc. are not mine. MAJOR SPOILERS for epsiodes 17-18.
Author's Notes: All done with the challenge. Finishing up with some Franz!angst because...because it's Franz, frankly. Poor man.
Franz sat up, watching Albert sleep. Albert had always been a deep sleeper, and now his gentle snoring was somehow a comfort. Something innately familiar. Safe.
The remains of their feast lay sprawled over the table and a bit over the floor, wine and food all consumed amidst laughter and smiles. The last time. Franz had absorbed it all, drinking in the sight of Albert more fervently than the alcohol they were sharing.
It was almost strangely…exhilarating. Knowing everything was for the last time. Every look, every laugh. Every word Albert said, even his drunken boasting about the Count. All of it.
Every touch – every brush of their hands. Every soft meeting of skin against skin. Every sweet union of their lips, his fingers tangled in Albert’s messy brown hair. The warm, full need only fed by the other boy’s touch.
Every groan and sigh, every murmur of the other’s name as clothes were lovingly removed; Albert never as patient as Franz, trying to rush things along, while Franz insisted they take their time, so he could remember every tiny moment. Everything that was his friend – the warm, fresh smell of crisply laundered shirt mingled with the spice of cologne, Albert trying to be older, always older. The wide, perfect blue of eyes, true windows – there were no walls to keep Franz out, no masks to hide behind. The warm softness of his neck, of his skin.
The tight warmth as their bodies joined, the rhythm that tied them together as they filled each other up to the brim. The ecstatic release, the feeling of Albert writhing beneath him, calling his name. The breathless moments of lying together in the fading warmth, bodies still tangled together as if they’d never come apart again. This last time.
Franz gently brushed some hair away from Albert’s forehead. Of course, it never happened. He had thought, once, of taking that chance, now that there was nothing to loose. But that was selfish. He wouldn’t make this any harder than he had to for Albert. And besides…as heavily as Albert habitually slept, Franz had needed to be sure. The sleeping pills really did preclude any foolishly considered declarations, any last minute regrets.
There weren’t many. Regrets. Albert may not have known how beautiful he was, but this one, last thing, would be his birthday present. And a present in advance for many future birthdays, an apology for having to miss them. Franz leaned in and, without fear of waking him, kissed Albert’s forehead. It was time to go.
“Joyeux anniversaire, mon ami…” he whispered, standing at the door and taking the last look. “…mon amour.” And he was gone.
Characters/Pairing: Albert de Morcerf/Franz d'Epinay
Prompt: 6, Lust
Word Count: 445
Rating: R (sexuality, unsurprisingly)
Disclaimer: Characters, situation, etc. are not mine. MAJOR SPOILERS for epsiodes 17-18.
Author's Notes: All done with the challenge. Finishing up with some Franz!angst because...because it's Franz, frankly. Poor man.
Franz sat up, watching Albert sleep. Albert had always been a deep sleeper, and now his gentle snoring was somehow a comfort. Something innately familiar. Safe.
The remains of their feast lay sprawled over the table and a bit over the floor, wine and food all consumed amidst laughter and smiles. The last time. Franz had absorbed it all, drinking in the sight of Albert more fervently than the alcohol they were sharing.
It was almost strangely…exhilarating. Knowing everything was for the last time. Every look, every laugh. Every word Albert said, even his drunken boasting about the Count. All of it.
Every touch – every brush of their hands. Every soft meeting of skin against skin. Every sweet union of their lips, his fingers tangled in Albert’s messy brown hair. The warm, full need only fed by the other boy’s touch.
Every groan and sigh, every murmur of the other’s name as clothes were lovingly removed; Albert never as patient as Franz, trying to rush things along, while Franz insisted they take their time, so he could remember every tiny moment. Everything that was his friend – the warm, fresh smell of crisply laundered shirt mingled with the spice of cologne, Albert trying to be older, always older. The wide, perfect blue of eyes, true windows – there were no walls to keep Franz out, no masks to hide behind. The warm softness of his neck, of his skin.
The tight warmth as their bodies joined, the rhythm that tied them together as they filled each other up to the brim. The ecstatic release, the feeling of Albert writhing beneath him, calling his name. The breathless moments of lying together in the fading warmth, bodies still tangled together as if they’d never come apart again. This last time.
Franz gently brushed some hair away from Albert’s forehead. Of course, it never happened. He had thought, once, of taking that chance, now that there was nothing to loose. But that was selfish. He wouldn’t make this any harder than he had to for Albert. And besides…as heavily as Albert habitually slept, Franz had needed to be sure. The sleeping pills really did preclude any foolishly considered declarations, any last minute regrets.
There weren’t many. Regrets. Albert may not have known how beautiful he was, but this one, last thing, would be his birthday present. And a present in advance for many future birthdays, an apology for having to miss them. Franz leaned in and, without fear of waking him, kissed Albert’s forehead. It was time to go.
“Joyeux anniversaire, mon ami…” he whispered, standing at the door and taking the last look. “…mon amour.” And he was gone.
