Rau le Creuset (
eschatological) wrote2000-10-01 12:00 pm
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Entry tags:
[psl] post-mortem; closed to @destinymaker
[ This office has always been quiet, but now the silence is unnaturally absolute. The usual ambient sounds have all vanished — the muted rumble of feet and serious voices beyond the door, the hum and crackle of electronics, the omnipresent pulse of Aprilius’s environmental support systems. But, then again, there’s no reason for the environmental support systems when the familiar noises of breath and heartbeat have ceased as well.
Two armies of chess pieces lie toppled and abandoned on the floor, leaving the low table bare save for the empty board. Rau sits languidly on one of the two wide sofas with his chin in a gloved hand. Even though he’s corporeal now (or as corporeal as anything in this scene, which is to say, gentlemen of the jury, ambiguously), the dim light and the white of his mask and uniform combine to give him an uncanny, still-ghostly appearance. He shows no interest in the scattered chess pieces. Instead, he is waiting very patiently, intently, for.... ]
Two armies of chess pieces lie toppled and abandoned on the floor, leaving the low table bare save for the empty board. Rau sits languidly on one of the two wide sofas with his chin in a gloved hand. Even though he’s corporeal now (or as corporeal as anything in this scene, which is to say, gentlemen of the jury, ambiguously), the dim light and the white of his mask and uniform combine to give him an uncanny, still-ghostly appearance. He shows no interest in the scattered chess pieces. Instead, he is waiting very patiently, intently, for.... ]
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Better, but not perfect. Yet.
[ Gil has never actually slept with a man before. This fact does not stop him from having boundless self-confidence about the act. (Idly, he wonders if Rau has any experience at all. Military academy dorms would at least have given him ample opportunity.)
The way Rau is keeping himself only barely within Gil's reach is irritating, but it's exactly that irritation that prevents Gil from doing the obvious and trying yet again to pull him down on top of him. Instead, he moves his hand from gripping Rau's collar to unhooking the clasps and start freeing bit after bit of skin on a man who is usually entirely covered up. ]
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So he leaves Gil free to make his way down the clasps running down the uniform collar and chest. (Even through uniform fabric, hands on his chest will be able to feel that his heartrate is up, undermining his veneer of smug indifference as much as the color in his cheeks.) Instead, he drapes his arms over Gil’s shoulders and kisses him. It’s light, brief, investigative. ]
“Yet,” [ he repeats thoughtfully.
And then he kisses him again -- this time, using his extra leverage to press their lips together with the tiniest bit more force, barely brushing his teeth over Gil’s lower lip. This kiss is a touch longer before Rau pulls back slightly. But then he presses down again. And again, and again, as many times as Rau can get away with before Gil gives some word or sign of wanting to interrupt the cycle. Each kiss is noticeably rougher than the last -- longer, deeper, more bruising force as Rau pushes down, more teeth scraping and pressing into soft skin; he’ll take anything that Gil throws back into the kisses and continue making each one a fraction wilder than one before. But there’s that same pause and withdrawal after every one: Rau is methodically, if ruthlessly, testing the limits of Gil’s tolerance and preference, and is waiting to see where Gil will tell him to knock it off.
Rau is largely unfussed by undressing, but Gil’s going to have to manage it by touch alone, and while Rau is being highly distracting. ]
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It's not long before all the clasps that Gil can comfortably reach are undone. Gil has the home field advantage here - ZAFT uniforms are unisex, and he's gotten quite a bit of practice undoing them in life. It doesn't matter if he's distracted by kisses or blindfolded, he knows his way around the garments with ease.
It's around then that Rau bites down on his lip in a way that comes dangerously close to drawing blood and Gil yelps a little. ]
-- you. If you want to turn me into a masochist, you'll have to work harder for it.
[ Without any warning, embraces Rau again and pulls him down onto his legs and into his arms - forcefully this time. Step one of 'work for it' is going to be 'not making your partner crane his neck uncomfortable for make-outs', Gil has decided.
With Rau properly in his grasp, he presses a kiss to his collarbone. ]
Is that what you want? Make me bleed?
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Rau’s fingers dig into Gil’s shoulders, then scrape down sharply between his shoulder-blades. There’s too many layers of fabric in the way for it to hurt, this is just to make a point (offer?). ]
You’d bleed for me in a heartbeat.
[ Said with complete and utter confidence. And although there’s an undercurrent of laughter lingering in the words and a smile on Rau's lips, it’s not mocking or harsh, not a disparagement, not a threat; it’s simply an observation of a delightful, fascinating fact. Gilbert Durandal has already bled quite a lot for Rau, and at the end of a lovely demonstration of how far human longing will go.
And even if Rau were generally inclined to draw blood solely for the sake of drawing blood... just as the acceptance of the tendency toward destructiveness somewhat dulls the inclination to be destructive, the fact that Gil has already bled quite a lot for him rather dulls the inclination to draw blood solely for the sake of it. Rau simply doesn’t want to hold back any more than is strictly necessary. ]
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Gil smiles, though he does not actually raise his head for Rau to see.]
Maybe so.
[ Between kisses and gently scraping of teeth, Gil moves his way up from Rau's collar to his jawline before pulling back a little so he can undo Rau's uniform belt and get this jacket out of the way once and for all. He slides it off Rau's shoulders and is struck by how undressed he looks in only an undershirt - even if that is basically still fully clothed. ]
But I might complain quite a bit.
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You really do talk too much.
[ But there's a temporary fix for that. Rau's mouth replaces the finger a beat later; he kisses with deliberate laziness this time, noticeably scaled back from the previous pressure. His hands drop to Gil's collar and the fastenings across the chest, making up for lack of familiarity with whatever-this-top-is with brisk efficiency, neither attempting to be particularly rough or delicate. Even if there aren't really rules, even if there isn't really fair or unfair, it's a touch annoying to be the only one starting to show skin. ]
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Gil gives a pleased hum at the action, even if it yet again deprives him of the chance to finally bare Rau's hands. It would have been interesting to keep going as they had, focusing entirely on Rau while Gil remains almost untouched, but 'interesting' doesn't necessarily equate to 'satisfying' here. Not for something that Gil has wanted for far longer than is appropriate.
So while he's content to keep languidly kissing so Rau can get his own bit of undressing in, he's not actually willing to give up on his headstart. His hands slip under Rau's shirt to explore the warm skin and ironically, all Gil can think about it how alive Rau feels. Heated up, heart beating fast, breathing against his skin whenever they take short breaks in making out... To think the afterlife would gift them such a formidable illusion. How kind of it.
It's not too long before Gil pulls the shirt up properly and disrupts their kiss, prompting Rau to help him get rid of that final layer on his upper body. And if Rau complies, Gil will take hold of his hands right after. ]
Still so distant... Tsk Tsk.
[ He tuts in disapproval, even though it's obvious he's not actually displeased - but he does reach for the hem of the gloves, ready to pull them off and toss them aside as well. ]
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But "distant" ... the gloves don't have any particular significance now that he doesn't have to hide painful trembling, but "distant" is just being ridiculous when Rau is the only one shirtless. He avoids Gil's reach easily, and settles his still-gloved hands at Gil's hips instead. His fingers dip beneath the hem of the undershirt, but then also, just a centimeter, below the waist of Gil's pants. ]
What's distant? [ he asks blandly, dipping his head so that his lips brush over Gil's ear with each word, and just daring him to say the ridiculous part out loud and complain about the gloves. ]
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Perhaps the coolness of glove fabric on my heated skin?
[ There, he said it. Make fun of him as you will.
His own very much ungloved hands travel up Rau's now bare back until he can lightly drag a fingernail over the base of his neck. Such precision in sensation that can be gained with bare fingers, see? ]
Let's do away with such barriers.
[ He'd also like to rid himself of his now two unbuttoned jackets, but the privilege of having the hottest man you've ever known in your lap comes with the disadvantage that your freedom of movement is strongly limited. When Gil draws his hands back so he can make good on his words and remove barriers indeed, it's a bit of an awkward shuffle to shrug out of his clothing without disturbing their position too much. ]
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He catches Gil’s hands in his at the end of the gesture, intertwining their fingers as he leans back slightly; without the mask, there’s no hiding the way that Rau’s eyes sweep over Gil, openly appraising. They’re both habitually bundled up, Rau wants to look. And it doesn’t hurt to continue being mildly irksome about the gloves. ]
So impatient.
[ But the glint in Rau’s eyes and the flush and the faint perspiration and the heavy rise and fall of his chest rather undercut the rebuke. ]
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Gil's body is as pale as one might expect. A lifetime spent safely holed up in laboratories and offices have left his skin without even a hint of color and without any blemishes either. The gunshot wound that Rey inflicted on him had been the only major injury his body ever had to suffer and here, in the liminal space of the afterlife that injury has been reduced to nothing but a pale scar. Without any rigorous military training under his belt, Gil never had a use for building up significant muscle but he's kept fit enough for health benefits. Still, he's thin more than he's toned. The size of his coat does a bit of work to make his figure seem more imposing when clothed. ]
I've waited a decade. Cut me some slack.
[ In absence of another option to move, Gil runs his thumbs over Rau's still annoyingly gloved hands. He grins at Rau, entirely self-assured about his own attractiveness even as the less muscular man here. He is equally self-assured about looking at Rau in turn. He wants to tell him he is gorgeous, but commenting on appearance feels like walking into a minefield. It is safer to let his eyes and flushed cheeks do the talking for him. ]
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But slack, hm. A little leeway, yes, but slack. Rau pulls both his hands back and bites the tip of one middle finger lightly, catching fabric in his teeth and very deliberately the glove off with a twist of his head. (The indulgent cooperativeness may be setting off alarm bells--.) ]
No, [ he smiles.
Then he puts his other hand on Gil’s shoulder, and, unless Gil reacts very quickly, is going to very firmly push him down to lie flat on his back. He’ll be thoughtful enough to shift back into Gil’s lap, though. And to toss him the glove. ]
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Well, it'd be a lie to say Gil isn't caught off guard. There is a distinct moment where his eyes widen at being suddenly manhandled like that and there might be a small ungraceful yelp involved as well. But then he's down on his back and Rau is straddling him and... Oh.
Oh, this is is an excellent position to be in. He hadn't really pictured himself as the one being pinned down before, but laying here and looking up at Rau's flushed face and bare chest Gil decides that he hadn't been dreaming big enough. ]
... I see how it is.
[ He'll reach up to brush his fingers through Rau's hair briefly, but then his hands pretty quickly wander lower and come to rest on.... well, if we're generous it's Rau's lower back, but it's a lot closer to his ass than anything else. ]
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And how’s that?
[ He’s openly teasing, openly challenging again – but mostly, he’s just smug. Completely smug. (Smugger than anyone wearing no shirt and one remaining glove should be; it’s A Look, even for Rau.) He’s going to keep calling out every vague statement until it backfires hilariously. ]
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Fortunately, he also likes talking enough that coming up with answers to Rau's devious teasing is a simple enough task. ]
I see that I quite like it when you're being unforgiving with me.
[ If a human being could purr, Gil would be doing it. He has never seen himself as a submissive person and he's not about to start now, but he could absolutely get used to Rau demonstrating his power from time to time.
With Rau's body language only encouraging him, Gil proceeds to let his hands travel lower on Rau's body, which is both great for feeling him up and for actually breaking the last barrier of chastity - Gil pushes their hips together harshly, the first real bid for friction in this encounter. ]
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You’ve been terribly spoiled if you think this -- [ he rolls his hips again, and it takes another hard exhale before he can continue the thought ] -- is unforgiving.
[ “Unforgiving” right after “waited a decade,” hah. Rau knows perfectly well that he’s giving Gil exactly what he wants, even if Rau has made him mock-fight for it, even if there will be some extra scratches by the end. And for the moment, that’s not a problem. Gilbert Durandal has gotten under his skin, and Rau wants to see this through to the end. ]
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[ Gil lets out a low moan, looking up at Rau through heavy-lidded eyes all the while. He doesn't want to miss even a moment of these unmasked expressions that are all for him. In all his life and death, he's the person who has gotten closest to Rau le Creuset. Gil wants to believe that. Those beads of sweat on his brow, the way his eyelids flutter... Rau's face may not be unique to him, but surely these are expressions that belong only to the two of them in this moment.
Now that they've started, it's hard to resist keeping up the pace and Gil doesn't bother. He rocks his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm, feeling keenly that his pants are way too tight for this. ]
Mhm... Maybe it isn't so bad-- being spoiled in this way.
[ And that should go for Rau as well. Having sex is not going to make Rau existentially happy, but Gil wants to make sure he enjoys himself to the fullest. After another self-indulgent squeeze of his ass, Gil lets go and touches Rau's bare lower back instead, feathery traces of fingernails on skin. ]
I wonder, do you want to-- be held? Or to hold?
[ It's very euphemistic language to use even while he moves his hands to the front and onto Rau's belt buckle.
Even now Gil's eyes never once leave Rau's face, and though he's panting with desire, there's still an adoration in his expression that is maybe a little embarrassing. ]
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Such clinical precision.
[ Who lets you do doctor things, seriously. But, Rau has already made up his mind that he doesn’t particularly want to deal with the fuss or solicitude involved in fingering Gil open, and that getting held down and fucked would be boring no matter how (because of how?) earnest and sentimental and adoring Gil might be about it. He sits up straight (tossing the second glove away without fanfare in the process, finally), his ass settling flush against Gil’s crotch. He looks so well-balanced, so perfectly at ease that it should dispel any lingering questions Gil has about whether Rau has been with men before, even if Rau was too pain-wracked or too hyper-fixated on mutual annihilation or both to get around sleeping with anyone in the last year of his life. ]
Neither.
[ He raises his hips fractionally, then grinds down. Chasing his own pleasure on Gil’s cock probably does have the best chance of both maintaining control and a satisfactory conclusion. Still, first things first. He pulls up just enough to break contact.... ]
But this is your afterlife, probably. You’ll need to reason out lubrication.
[ Rau’s an omnicidal psychopath, not a masochist. And if death ends up being limited to blowjobs and thighfucking, eh, that’s still pretty good for hell or purgatory or whatever. ]
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To the question of lubrication, Gil lightly inclines his head towards the front end of the couch. ]
There's storage compartments under the seating. First from the left.
[ While he speaks, he makes quick work of Rau's belt and pant buttons. ]
As much as I'd love to see if I can manifest something with my mind... Well, I did spend a lot of time here in life, you know?
[ Lubrication is also quite useful for flying solo.
And even though Gil is deeply fascinated with the metaphysical potential of their situation, he's glad to let that wait until he's less tightly wound up with desire. ]
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You do prepare for everything.
[ This timing is terrible, though, as Rau is rather distracted by the hands at his waist. It would probably be most sensible to grab the lube now – but, sensibility be damned, Rau is starting to stiffen at the through-fabric contact and isn’t particularly inclined to interrupt this. Rau settles into Gil’s lap again by way of wordless permission and encouragement, leaning back to give him easier access. His eyes are focused on Gil's face with anticipatory curiosity. ]
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Experimental doesn't translate to hesitant though. He's quickly had his fill of feeling the allure of heat through fabric, and doesn't waste more time before dipping his hand below the waistband of Rau's underwear and taking hold of his cock. He gives it a languid stroke, gauging reaction. With his other arm, he props himself up for a slightly better vantage point. ]
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So after a moment, Rau bites his lip and lifts onto his knees, sitting a few inches higher so that he has room to get at Gil’s pants. (He doesn’t make any effort to push Gil’s hands away, nor will he protest if they keep up the good work.) Rau runs a finger along Gil’s pants seam as a quick tease, then gets to work on whatever fastenings are in the way with brisk efficiency. Barring any strenuous objections to the contrary (and, frankly, probably even in the face of any strenuous objections to the contrary), he’ll pull any offending articles of clothing out of the way -- then lower his hips again and wrap a hand loosely around both their cocks. His fingers are remarkably steady, but, then again, he’s had years of experience forcing them to stay still through tremors. By contrast, his brows are knit with concentration and his eyes flicker closed as he rocks forward again. ]
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Rau...
[ Not a statement that is going anywhere, just a breathless exclamation of the name. How could anybody expect differently of him? Gilbert Durandal is always motivated by love, and the simple primitive pleasure of sex is stripping away all other parts of him with ease. I love you, his body sings, and simply calling Rau's name is the best way to externalize it without making his partner want to gag him.
Truly, Gil's only complaint about this set-up is that it's uncomfortable to hold himself upright with his arm and doing so still doesn't bring him close enough to reach Rau's lips. Seeking to remedy the problem, he wraps his arms around Rau's shoulders and pulls him back down with him. Should Rau allow this, Gil's drawing him into a breathless kiss while they thrust their hips in a loose rhythm. ]
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But he's still curious as well, and, with both hands otherwise occupied, eventually his lips dip to Gil's jaw, down along the neck to the collarbone. There's too much teeth-scraping involved for it to be just kissing, but it's not outright biting, not until he gets to the little ghost scar over Gil's heart. That Rau nips at, hard enough to leave a mark of his own, just as his fingers wrap a little tighter around their dicks. ]
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F-fuck, ah---
[ Gil jolts, letting out a strangled moan and uncharacteristic swear in response to the sudden combination of pain, increased pleasure and--- Well, it's a potent cocktail of emotions as well, having Rau claim him in that spot of all places. Gil's fingernails did hard into Rau's shoulder blades, first on instinct and then remaining that way on purpose for a moment.
He's not into pain, he really isn't, but-- How is he not supposed to think it's hot when Rau is putting his mark on his heart, his death, every part of himself that he'd like to offer up to him already? ]
-- get that lube. I need you.
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