#mon chere | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imthebadguyyy · 7 months

Text

Lay All Your Love On Me

pairing - charles leclerc x reader

fandom - f1

synopsis - a look back into your relationship pt i pt ii

a/n - inspired by my obsession with the mamma mia soundtrack, enjoy!

"i want to tell y/n that i love her"

while the statement had been easy enough to make, charles hadn't really figured out exactly how he planned to tell you, his best friend, his closest friend, his confidante, and the love of his life that, well, he was so head over heels for you the whole world seemed upside down.

he also hasn't anticipated the reaction he received from his family. his mother of course, was overjoyed that her son was finally telling her unofficial daughter that he loved her. but the person who was the most excited of all was of course, arthur.

when charles told carla and him that he was going to tell you he loved you, arthur let out the loudest whoop he had ever managed to vocally produce in his life.

"FINALLY MON FRERE!" he exclaimed, startling carla, who was just as excited. "mon dieu, calme toi" my god, calm down charles said, suppressing a laugh at his brother's antics.

"how can i calm down?!?! ive been waiting for this day since I was thirteen and realized I wanted y/n to officially be in our family and ever since you have been pining over her like a puppy I am allowed to be excited!!" he shouted, now doing a strange version of the rumba around the yacht.

all the commotion he was causing caught lorenzo's attention, who strolled out with a drink in his hand and charlotte by his side, who had been rudely awoken from her nap by arthur's over enthusiastic celebrations.

"arthur, pourquoi cries-tu?" arthur, why are you shouting? enzo asked, leaning against the railing. "yes arthur, some of us are trying to sleep" charlotte laughed, leaning against the railing as well.

"well, dear enzo, it seems that notre chere frere is finally confessing his undying love and affection for our favourite person" our darling brother arthur smiled widely.

"non, c'est vrai?" no, is this true? enzo asked, genuinely surprised.

"oui" charles smiled, blushing slightly at all the excitement. he hadn't expected the delightful swarm of butterflies fluttering from his heart to his tummy, plunging into the depths of his soul, as he thought of you and the possibility of finally confessing his love for you.

"well that's amazing! it's about time too" charlotte joked with a laugh. "i agree charles, it's been so long that you like her" enzo smiled, clapping his brother on the back.

"isn't this so exciting? now y/n can finally offically be the third sister in our trio!" carla exclaimed excitedly, already making a billion plans on how the three of you would bond. she already shared a very close bond with charlotte, and had always held a soft spot for you.

charlotte also was very fond of you, and pascale had once joked that charlotte was your big sister and you were carla's. she has secretly hoped to see all three of you as her daughter in law's one day, and finally, she thought her dream was one step closer to becoming a reality.

"so how are you going to tell her?" arthur asked, crossing his arms, deep in thought.

"i think i know exactly how, but i need your help in convincing her to join me. she's been distant... and i don't know if she'll want to see me at all" he admitted.

"of course she will, she loves you so much" enzo said, having picked up on your affection for his brother at an early age. enzo had also secretly hoped that you and charles would get together years ago, having seen the both of you joined at the hip since you were six.

but he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a hint of protectiveness towards you. after your father had passed, you had turned to enzo as a leading figure in your life, and he had stuck with you through thick and thin. as much as lorenzo loved his brother, he also knew his dating history wasn't the prettiest.

so it only seemed natural that once the excitement had died down in the slightest, he took charles aside for a talk.

"charles, i'm very happy that you've decided to take this decision, truly i am-" he started, but charles cut him off.

"je sais ce que tu es sur le point de dire, que je n'ai pas la meilleure histoire en matière de rencontres avec des femmes et que je ne suis pas vraiment un très bon petit ami. mais enzo, je te promets que je ne pourrais jamais lui faire de mal, jamais. je regrette sincèrement toutes les erreurs que j'ai commises, et je ne peux pas imaginer ma vie sans y/n à mes côtés, non seulement en tant qu'amie, mais en tant qu'amoureuse et partenaire pour la vie, si elle veut bien" i know what you're about to say, that I don't have the best history with dating women and that I am not exactly a very good boyfriend. But enzo, i promise that i could never ever hurt her. i truly regret all the mistakes I've made, and i can't imagine my life without y/n by my side, not just as a friend, but as my lover and partner for life, if she'll have me. I swear i try my hardest to be the best I can for her, always" charles said, emotion brimming deep in his eyes.

lorenzo took a second to respond, pondering over his brother's words thoughtfully.

"je te fais confiance. elle mérite le meilleur dans la vie, charles. elle a traversé des moments difficiles et a passé de nombreuses années à cacher ses sentiments pour toi. je l'aime profondément, et elle est tout aussi importante pour moi que tu l'es. j'ai besoin de savoir que tu ne lui feras pas de mal, car je refuse de la voir souffrir à nouveau, d'accord ? mais je sais que tu es un homme bien, le meilleur frère que je puisse avoir. alors, fonce. mais s'il te plaît, pour son bien, sois le charles que nous connaissons."

i trust you. she deserves the very best in life, charles. She has been through tough times, and has spent many years hiding her feelings from you. i love her greatly and she is just as important to me as you are. i need to know that you won't hurt her because i refuse to see her in pain again, okay? but i know you're a good man, and the best brother i could ask for. So go for it. But please, for her sake, be the charles we know"

charles nodded, understanding reaching out to pull his brother into a hug.

"je l'aime. et je ne te décevrai pas non plus." i love her. and i won't let you down either, charles murmured, and lorenzo clapped him on the back again. "i know. you deserve happiness, the both of you" he said, and with another quick hug, he left charles with his thoughts on the boat.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

unbeknownst to charles, you were still stuck in a state of misery, believing your best friend, who was incidentally the man you were hopelessly in love with, was never going to love you back.

the harsh reality of that thought had been best expressed in the studio, and you found yourself writing song after song about unrequited love, and about the pains of falling in love with your best friend.

jack antonoff relaxed in his chair, stretching after almost six hours straight of recording and producing your latest heartbreak melody. you were forever grateful for him, and his endless patience with your indecisiveness and emotions.

he had been so understanding about your emotional dilemmas, spending many a wine drunk evening listening to you ramble and helping you convert it into beautiful songs that had you in tears.

"i think we should definitely release this one" you mused, headphones on and listening to the song you had just finished recording.

"i think we should record all 142 songs we've made but yes, this one is...something special" he admitted.

"but is it too obvious? is it too vulnerable? am i leaving the door open to criticism and hate and negative reviews? it's nothing like what we usually make but it's.. it's something I need to share" you admitted, half to jack and half to yourself.

"look, you are at the height of your career and your music has been nothing short of phenomenal. of course people will comment, of course you're being vulnerable, but isn't that what we do? isn't that why we write music? isnt it because we need a healthy outlet for our emotions, so you can express yourself?" he asked sincerely, and you found yourself nodding.

"yes..." the hesitation was still there. vulnerability didn't exactly stem from the music, but rather, from the fear of what charles would think. surely he would connect the dots and realise it was about him? surely he would notice that his best friend was singing soft croonings about her undying love for him, and how badly she longed for him? surely so many years of friendship meant he had a passageway into her mind and heart? surely, right?

"my father once told me 'the fear of vulnerability is a fortress we build to shield our hearts from the unknown', you told jack, eyes looking beyond him to the view of the blue sea out the window, "and i think that's why i feel this... nervousness. ive spent almost a decade being in love with my best friend, and putting out a song like this? people will speculate. i don't want to ruin his life..." you trailed off, insecurity seeping into your tone.

"i understand. but you're not ruining his career. yes, people can speculate but you don't need to confirm or deny those speculations. the media can be cruel y/n. we know that. but we don't stop that from doing what we do best" he said, and you nodded.

"okay. next week" you said.

"thats soon" jack said, adding the finishing touches to the song.

"one day or day one" you said, standing up to make the call to your team.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

liked by charlesleclerc, billieeilish, lilymunihe, lewishamilton, charlotte2304, bellahadid and 2,706, 587 others

@yourinstagram - someone like you. out now.

tagged - @jackantonoff

user12 : oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

user 13 : MAAM YOU CANNOT KEEP DROPPING BEAUTIFUL SURPRISE SINGLES AND EXPECT US TO BE OKAY 😭😭

user 77 : her voice, the piano, the high notes, the production - jack and y/n are the most elite singer producer combo ever

user22 : idk why but i get the sense this song is about charles? i mean "i heard that you've settled down" i mean he isn't married but she's clearly insinuating a relationship that she wishes she had with someone she loves and is close with... and who is her best friend..it's charles leclerc... "old friend" seems so fitting

-user23 - you're delulu (i believe you)

-user16 - let THEM COOK

user23 : she looks STUNNING

user65 : why does she look like a GODDESS and an ANGEL

lilymunihe : crying in a walmart parking lot because you're voice is a wonder you are a wonder your skills are a wonder and i love everything about this and u

-@yourinstagram : 🥺 lily i love you. thank you for being such a wonderful friend. forever by your side.

kika.gomes : baby u are a wonder. your voice has me mesmerized. i love u so much. forever in awe of u and your wondrous talent 💗

-@yourinstagram : kika i love u so much 🥺💗 thank you for always supporting me. love u to the moon and back. please come and visit soon!!

-kika.gomes : on my way

-lilymunihe : wait me too omg lemme book a flight

-carmenmundt : alright me as well

-user40 : not all the wags being best friend with y/n 😭😭

carla.brocker : oh y/n this is so beautiful... i'm so proud to call you my friend 🥺 je t'aime 🫶🏼

-@yourinstagram : je t'aime carla 🩷

arthurleclerc - so proud of you, grande soeur, love the song 🩷

-@yourinstagram : love u thur.

charlesleclerc : magnifique, ma belle.

-@yourinstagram : merci charles 🥰

-user12 : usually she's.... much more enthusiastic about his comments

-user44 : babes if i wrote a song about my best friend and he was dense enough to not know and congratulate me id say merci too smh

-user30 : a charlesyn interaction after so long im so happy 😭

leclercpascale - tu es quelque chose de spécial, mon chéri. je t'aime toujours ❤️ you are something special my darling, love you always

-@yourinstagram - merci maman 🥺💗 tu es mon plus grand soutien, j'espère te voir bientôt you are my greatest supporter, i hope to see you soon

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

charles had been with joris and andrea when he had opened instagram to see your post.

"y/n's released a new song" he said, and joris quirked an eyebrow. "right now?" he asked, settling into charles' plush couch, flicking through to open apple music on the tv.

"yes, it's called someone like you. play it please" charles said, pulling a bowl of watermelon closer to the table.

the only sounds in the room were the munching of the watermelon and joris clicking the remote when charles picked up his phone, ready to send you a text after listening to your song.

the opening notes of the piano filled the room, bringing a soft smile to his face as a favourite memory creeped up into his thoughts.

you were sitting on the piano still, fingers playing random keys as you figured it out. at the age of 8, you had decided you wanted to be a singer and wanted to learn all the instruments you could. you were already playing guitar that you're dad was teaching you, but your fascination with the piano has always remained.

"charles i can't do this" you whined, throwing you head back, sighing at your best friend who was flipping through a safety guidebook for karting.

why not, you're smarter than i am" he said, earning a giggle from you. "you're smart too charlie" "alright alright, ive seen arthur play, let us try and figure it out"

hours later, herve and pascale returned home to find you and charles deeply engrossed in figuring out chords, trying to sing along to la vie on rose by edith piaf. the both of you had your tongues stuck out in concentration, working together to figure it out.

it brought a smile to their faces, knowing you'd always have each others support.

as charles registered the sound of your voice floating in, he closed his eyes, leaning back to enjoy the music, before he was whacked with a cushion.

"idiot, écoutes-tu correctement la chanson ?" idiot, are you listening to the song properly? joris asked, having caught on to the meaning before charles.

"yes, i am" charles said, rubbing his head in confusion.

"lei sta cantando di te." she's singing about you, andrea said, shaking his head at charles' slow reaction.

"qui?" charles asked, taken aback.

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a girl and you're married now

I heard that your dreams came true

Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you....

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

"Don't forget me, " I beg

I remember you said

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead"

"she's clearly talking about you! cmon charles, we all know you've both been head over heels for each other since we were kids. and look, it's all there, she even says old friend! how much more proof do you want" joris asked, exasperated.

"but-but- what does she mean by nevermind? i was going to tell her.." charles trailed off.

"then tell her soon, charlito, before she tries to move on. you deserve to tell her your feelings because she likes you too" andrea said, the usually quiet man genuinely cared about you as well, and knew of charles deep love for you.

"you're right. ill call her over tonight" charles said, nervous springing to life in every part of his body.

the anticipation grew as he realized that their connection could shift that very evening taking on a new dimension.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

charles rushed to send you a text, at the same time he set about setting the yacht up. he had decided to sail the both of you to the cove you discovered as children, to enjoy a dinner of carbonara and red wine, which had been a favourite for the two of you. he made sure the yacht was stocked with bottles of wine and champagne, and even got the ferrari team chef to cook for the both of you.

he set about setting the table just right, with candles and roses and his finest crockery and cutlery. he set the flowers on the table and glanced over at the bouquet he had for you, along with the present he intended to give you later.

he had also taken the time to curate a spotify playlist for the both of you, that was already playing softly in the background.

he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. in fact he hadn't felt this nervous since his first ever f1 race.

the nerves before telling someone you love them felt like a symphony of butterflies fluttering within his chest, a captivating mix of excitement and trepidation. his heart races, and every word he'd rehearsed a hundred times running laps in his mind.

he opened your chat to read the texts he had sent you, in an attempt to slow down his beating heart.

charlie ❤️ : cherie, je me demandais si tu voudrais me rejoindre ce soir sur le yacht pour dîner. j'avais envie de passer du temps avec toi. i was wondering if you'd join me on the yacht tonight for dinner? I've been wanting to spend time with you

you : tonight? id love to. is there anything happening?

charlie ❤️ : no, just wanted to spend some time with my dearest friend who i haven't seen in forever.

you : sorry, cherie, ive been busy :(

charlie ❤️ : thats alright amour, im just messing around. but is it okay if i ask, are you mad at me?

you : what, no?

charlie ❤️ : it's just...you've seemed a little distant and i can't point out why and i was just wondering if maybe i upset you?

you : oh not at all my sweet boy, ive just been preoccupied, thats all. we'll talk at dinner?

charlie ❤️ : of course cherie. see you then 🩷

you : see you 🩷

charles had blushed at the mention of "my sweet boy" and had also made up his mind to talk to you about whatever was bothering you. but he had a feeling he knew what it was about.

nevertheless, he paced back and forth as the sun began to set, casting the perfect golden hue on his boat. and just as the golden rays bathed monaco, you appeared like an angel, dress fluttering in the wind as you made your way to charles' yacht.

the sight of you took his breath away, hair billowing in the wind, your dress floating too, and the golden hues making you sparkle. you looked ethereal, like an angel descending from the heavens.

his angel.

as you reached closer to the yacht, charles walked up to you, offering you his hand to step in.

you took it with a smile trying not to blush at how handsome he looked. he was wearing a baby blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black pants. his hair looked tousled from the wind, and his eyes seemed to shimmer with happiness at seeing you. you found yourself unable to suppress your smile, cheeks hurting from the wide smile on your face.

you had to admit, although you were trying to stay away to protect your feelings, you were happiest when you were with him.

"hello cherie. ive missed you" charles was the first to speak, pulling you into a hug.

you lingered in the warmth of his embrace, relishing the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne. you hoped he wouldn't notice how you were so desperately trying to keep yourself together, to prevent yourself from melting into the man.

charles wasn't able to keep it together either. he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your perfume, which he recognised to be the ysl libre he had got you hooked into. he felt the most comforted and safe in your arms and your embrace, and so the both of you stayed like that for a moment longer, revelling the company of each other.

when you finally broke away, your heartbeats had increased and a giddy happiness has taken over the both of you, as charles led you to the table he had set for the two of you.

"oh wow... charles you didn't have to do all this! it isn't even my birthday" you laughed, taken aback at the sweet gesture.

"i just wanted to spoil my favourite girl a little" he said, throwing you a wink that had your cheeks heating up and your heart fluttering in your chest.

"well i won't say no to that" you giggled, and then laughed as he pulled your chairs for you.

"oh my what a gentleman. who would believe you once tipped me in class for trying to take your seat" you said, throwing him a smirk.

"hey i didn't trip you, your foot was just in the way" he chided, grinning at you.

"mmhm, for sure. what about the time you dumped red paint on my hair because you were upset i 'stole' thur from you? or the time you put gum in my hair? or the time you coloured over my poster of queen because you were tired of me singing bohemian rhapsody around the house?" you laughed back, watching him bury his face in his hands with a groan.

"cherie please don't remind me of what a terrible child i was" he whined pouring you a glass of wine.

"you were lovely. you just didn't use your brains at time" you smiled, and he rolled his eyes at you.

"you weren't an innocent angel either. what about the time you hid my remote control ferrari because I was giving it more attention than i was giving you?" he said and you squealed with laughter.

"i was a pretty needy friend, i admit" you giggled, and charles chuckled as well.

a comfortable silence settled over the two of you, broken only by charles serving you some carbonara.

the pair of you couldn't stop smiling at each other and you couldn't imagine how strange it would look to a stranger but you didn't care.

"ive missed you a lot" charles admitted after a beat of silence.

"ive missed you a lot as well" you sighed, twirling your pasta onto your fork.

"then why did you go radio silent for a while cherie?" he asked softly, and you noticed the flash of hurt in his eyes.

you sighed, looking beyond his green eyes to the sunset behind you. monaco always looked beautiful in the evening and at nightfall, and you took a moment's respite in the gorgeous colours, before turning back to face your best friend.

"i just needed to get away for a bit charles, focus on my music" you said, partially truthfully.

"but you focused on your music here too mom coeur" he said, unable to hide the sadness in his voice. "was it me? did I do something?" he whispered, not knowing how to tell you he realised what he had done.

"oh no, charles, no you didn't i- i just.. i needed some space and im sorry i didn't tell you I was going to LA" you said, heart breaking as you took his hands in your own.

"no i understand you needing space but I was just surprised you left in a rush, we haven't spoken in so long" charles said, running his thumb over your knuckles.

the anticipation grew, as the both of you looked deep into each other's eyes,silent apologies shared between the two of you.

it was a moment of vulnerability like no other, where the both of you prepared (unbeknownst to the other) to bare your deepest emotions, risking it all for the chance that the other might feel the same way. yet amidst the nervousness, there was a sense of hope, a glimmer of anticipation, because you both know that what you were about to say had the power to change your lives forever.

"i have to-"

"i need to-"

the both of you spoke at once, eliciting giggles from each other.

"you go first" you whispered, keeping your hands interlocked, not wanting to let go.

"okay" charles whispered back, before taking a deep breath.

"y/n, ma cherie, ive carried these feelings for you like a secret treasure, buried deep within the chambers of my heart. today, i have managed to find the courage to unearth them, to let them shine as brightly as the stars that have witnessed our shared moments. you've been the compass of my life, guiding me through storms and sunshine, and in the quiet spaces between our laughter and shared dreams, my affection for you has grown into something I can no longer contain.

it's not merely friendship that binds us, but a love that transcends boundaries. your smile brightens my darkest days, and your laughter is a melody that dances through my soul. your kindness and understanding have been the pillars of my strength, and your presence, a soothing balm to my every wound. with each passing day, my love for you has deepened, filling every corner of my being.

ive hesitated for so long, fearing that these words would jeopardize the beautiful connection we share. but, ma cherie, i cannot deny what my heart knows is true.

i love you.

not just as a friend, but with a love that defies definition, a love that cherishes your essence, your flaws, and your dreams. i want to be more than a friend. i want to be the one who holds your hand through life's journey, the one who shares your triumphs and cradles your sorrows.

i know this is a lot to take in, and i understand if it brings uncertainty or fear, because i have felt the weight of those emotions. but amour, i don't want keep this truth hidden. love is too precious to conceal. whether you choose to embrace it or not, know that my love for you is unwavering, and no matter what you feel, I'm telling you that ill always be there. I've known you since we were children, scraping our knees and colouring with each other, to teenagers with dreams we shared and hopes we talked about to adults who are still the best of friends.

it would be an honour if you reciprocated these feelings mon amour, and im sorry if this is too much. but i love you. and i had to let you know" charles concluded, drawing a deep breath at the end of his long confession.

you felt shock seeping through every bone in your body, but a warm shock that lit up your soul and made you feel like you were floating. tears rose to your eyes, glimmering and glistening, dripping softly down and charles moved to wipe them away softly.

"oh charles, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words. ive loved you for as long as I can remember and I love you, i love you so much. ive always known that what I feel for you is more than just friendship.

the words you've spoken, the feelings you've unveiled, they've stirred the deepest corners of my soul. In the tapestry of our friendship, ive discovered a love that has blossomed silently, mirroring the beauty of the most delicate of flowers, unnoticed until it's in full bloom. it is not just my heart but my very essence that loves you and I'm so thrilled by your confession my love.

your smile, the warmth of your laughter, the strength of your kindness—these have been the foundation of my happiness for so long. and now, i can finally tell you that my heart has danced to the same tune all along. all those years of pining have finally come to fruition and im so glad you told me this. i had to go away because i couldn't bear to see you with someone else, and as selfish as it sounds, i needed an escape otherwise i would have gone raving mad.

i love you charles. id want nothing more than for us to have future together. i love you more than i can put into words" you confessed, tears streaming down your face as you regarded the man in front of you.

charles too, had tears in his eyes, and the utmost love and adoration in his eyes. never had he ever looked at you like that before, as if you were the sun moon and the stars.

"je t'aime cherie, je t'aime" he whispered, pulling your knuckles to his lips to press a kiss to them.

"je t'aime ma vie" you whispered back, basking in the warmth of the moment.

"papa would be so happy" charles admitted, pushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "you know, he once told me that he and uncle theo also wished for us to get together. finally their wish came true" he smiled and you felt a new stream of tears run down your cheeks.

"papa told me too, when he was ill, that you and i belong together. mama tells me even today" you said, sniffling softly.

charles moved so he could help you out of your chair, leading you out to the deck.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in close as you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

"can I kiss you?" he whispered, hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

"please" you managed to breathe out, before feeling his soft lips press against yours, just as they had when you shared the salty kiss under the playground slide, but this time it was deeper, more meaningful and full of love.

his hands slipped to your hips, one pulling you in so close you were almost moulded into him, while the other gently caressed your cheek. you let your hand rest on his waist, and the other on his neck, softly pulling him closer.

he deepened the kiss, gently sliding his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft gasp from you as he traced delicate patterns on your back.

the kiss only grew more urgent and charles let his hands wander, frantic to feel you, years of longing piling up and finally spilling out.

when the lack of oxygen made your lungs burn, you finally broke apart panting, still cocooned into each other, chests heaving together.

"ive been wanting to do that for ages" charles panted, pressing soft kisses to your face and forehead, making you giggle when he kissed your nose.

"I've been wanting you to do that for ages too" you said, earning a laugh from him. you settled back down against his shoulder, feeling full of love and ready to burst with how happy you were.

"i love you y/n" he said, sincerity clear in his tone. "i love you too, charles" you whispered, pulling him back down for another kiss.

against the skyline of monaco, you let your eyes close, comforted by the man whose arms you were in, relishing the feeling of being so deeply in love with someone who loved you back with so much passion.

in that moment, love felt like the gentle whisper of two hearts, sharing their secrets beneath the starry canvas of the monaco sky.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

back at pascale's apartment, arthur bounced his foot impatiently, looking out to the window at the sea.

"do you think he's told her yet?" he asked lorenzo, who was patiently reading a book on the couch.

"i don't know arthur i haven't heard anything" he replied, chuckling at his brother's impatience. "why is it taking so long' arthur whined, looking at the clock.

carla rolled her eyes at him, "thur, let them be, they're going to be all romantic and emotional and I'm sure they'll tell you soon" she said just as patiently, earning a smile from pascale.

"I'm sure charles will tell us soon cherie" she told her youngest soon, patting him on the head.

charlotte laughed from the corner, "i don't know whose more excited, charles or arthur" and the room burst into laughter.

"we have all been waiting for this day for ages" lorenzo said, smiling around at everyone.

"your papa and i always knew this day would come, and so did theo and laura. we had hoped they would get together" pascale said softly, a gentle smile on her face.

the group took a moment to reminisce on all the pining they'd had to endure.

the silence in the room was broken by the sound of lorenzo's phone ringing and he picked it up when he saw charles contact.

"salut frère, l'as-tu fait ? lui as-tu dit ?" hello brother, did you do it? did you tell her lorenzo asked and arthur leapt over the couch to hear what charles said next.

"oui" charles smiled, and chuckled when the room descended into chaos.

arthur was whooping, charlotte and carla were offering congratulations and pascale was smiling so brightly, telling her son her congratulations as well. lorenzo laughed and congratulated his brother as well, before telling him they'd give the new couple some time before the entire family descended upon them.

he knew charles would appreciate some time and that y/n would too.

"okay let's go see them and-" arthur began before carla laughed and tutted him.

"amour, laissons-leur de l'espace aujourd'hui, d'accord? nous pouvons aller les féliciter demain." love, let's give the two of them some space today okay? we can go and congratulate them tomorrow

grumbling a little bit still super excited arthur accepted defeat and started bidding goodbye to the family.

one by one they all left, leaving pascale with a bright smile on her face.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

liked by charlesleclerc, kika.gomes, gigihadid, taylorswift, lilymunihe, bellahadid, and 9,808,765 others

@yourinstgram - only about a decade and a half in the making but finally told the love of life that he's the love of my life. je t'aime ma vie ♥️

tagged - charlesleclerc

charlesleclerc - i love you, mon cherie, thank you for making me the happiest man alive.

-@yourinstagram - i love you too ma vie. forever yours ❤️

-charleslecerc - forever yours ❤️

user38 : HOLD THE FRONT DOOR WHAT THE FUCK

user87: THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL CHARLESY/N NATION RISE

user33 : oh my god oh my god they're finally together im crying MOMMY AND DADDY

-user13: the duality 😭

kika.gomes : so happy for you two!! finally no more pining 🙄 double date soon? ❤️ love u bbg

-@yourintagram - thank you kika, i love u too babes and OMG YES double date

lilymunihe : baby you deserve the whole world and im so happy for u both. love to you always but you're still mine 😘

-@yourinstagram : ofc honey

-charlesleclerc : hey

-alexalbon : hey

-lilymunihe : babe no look away

-pierregasly : alexalbon they always do this bro

pierregasly : congrats you two!! have to celebrate soon!

-@yourinstagram : thank you pierre! bring kika and come over anytime ❤️

sabrinacarpenter - omg babes congratulations! so happy for you two!! 🩷🫶🏼

bellahadid : congratulations beautiful! wishing you happiness always 💜

lewishamilton : congratulations 🩷 knew everything would work out!!

-@yourinstagram : thank you for everything lewis, come and hang out with us soon!! bring roscoe please i miss my little buddy

-lewishamilton : roscoe misses you too

-roscoelovescoco : me loves you y/ns!

-@yourinstagram : 😭❤️ i love you too roscoe

joris.trouche : congratulations mon ami, best to you two always

-@yourinstagram : thank you joris 🩷

liked by leclercpascale, joris.trouche, pierregasly, arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 8,700,103 others

charlesleclerc : mon amour, i have loved you since i knew what the word meant. you are my everything. i love you.

tagged [email protected]

yourinstagram : je t'aime ♥️ id spend all my lives with you ♥️

user444: the way he looks at her 🥹

user903: lord i see what you have done for others...

user676 : BI PANIC BI PANIC BI PANIC

user38: so glad they're finally together I've been rooting for ages

user45: mama y papa mama y papa

carlossainz : congratulations cabron, you deserve this happiness ❤️

arthurleclerc: so happy to finally have her officially in the family, took you long enough 🙄

-user339 : you tell him arthur

joris.trouche : allez! love to the both of you always ❤️

leclercpascale : felicitations, restez heureux et rendez-vous toujours heureux ♥️

-charlesleclerc : merci maman ♥️

-yourinstagram : merci maman 🥺❤️

scuderiaferrari: ❤️❤️❤️

landonorris : thank God you finally asked her out i was going to do it for you

danielricciardo : glad to see you finally asked her out!!

charlotte2304 : shes amazing, don't hurt her or carla and i will have words with you

-carlabrocker : 💪🏻 🔪

-yourinstagram : 😂😂

ricciardoberetta : martas asking when are we double dating 😂

user344 : new hottest couple in the paddock alert!!

user23 : idk if i wanna be her or him or sandwiched in between

user45 : they ARE the moment!!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n - there's going to be one more part but i hope you liked it!!! much love 😘

likes comments reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

TAGS

f1 - @theonly1outof-a-billion @ivegotparticulartaste

everything -@roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird

something just like this - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt3 @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegend216 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1lov3r @livster @inkfablesandstories @ssararuffoni

to be added to the taglist send me an ask or a DM 🩷

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dabis-azure-songbird · 7 months

Text

Neuvillette Preview for @queen0frapture

I haven't even been able to try Neu or play him yet because my Genshin is updating...so I've educated myself with some cutscenes and watching him on YouTube. T-T So sorry if this isn't exactly in his character....But I had to throw the otter to his waifu! MUAHAHAHA!

Warnings: NSFW themes, severe praise kink on your part, established relationship (reader is his wife ^o^)

Minors please don't interact below this point. You take responsibility.

"Now my darling, please forgive me... You know I didn't leave such a good girl so lonely on purpose. Especially my own good girl."

You kept your head turned away from him, still a bit disgusted with the week happening between the two of you so far. He had been so consumed with his court and papers over the past week and almost a half that he'd barely touched your delicious homemade meals, barely interacted with you, and barely touched you at all. He probably still would've been absorbed if you hadn't come into his office and made such a fuss at him. Well, not audibly. The male could perceive you had growing frustration and tension with him over the week.

You swooned slightly though, but wanted to keep up your facade. He needed to understand just how precious time with each other was and how to balance his work and life.

"Dear..." he spoke softly, oceanic eyes looking over the thick assortment of documents in his hand.

"Don't "dear" me right now, Neuvillette. This problem isn't going to fix itself unless it's properly addressed and resolved."

You saw the corner of his mouth twitch softly in a frown, but then a slight smile as your retort reached his pointed ears. So...you were trying to present your case to him, hm?

"So, pray tell, mon cher, how exactly would you have me address and resolve such a problem? I am aware and acknowledge that I haven't been home as much to give you...proper affirmations and attention. However, is that the only thing bothering you, my pearl?"

"Just that, Neuv! You haven't eaten much in days. You haven't come home for longer than thirty minutes at a time. You haven't even hugged me or kissed my cheek or-" you spluttered as you tried to form your thoughts into even more debates.

"Aww, my sweet little wife... You are worried about me. Come here."

You stood your ground and fixed him with a look.

"Now. Please, mon cher."

You relented as the male tenderly smiled.

"Good girl. Thank you, darling."

His arms slid around you gently as you found yourself in his lap.

"Now, chere a mon coeur... Why don't I help you absolve your worries and frustrations right now?" he purred with a gentle kiss to the side of your hair.

"R-right now? Here?"

"Mm, right now. Right here. I haven't eaten much in a while... I am indeed ravenous... At least for you."

His eyes glinted and the slits in his eyes narrowed slightly as he smiled before his teeth began to pull at a glove softly.

#neuvilette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x you #neuvillette preview

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queenkaiju · 30 days

Text

Lover

Maribat March - Prompt 21

Red Hood had only been in control of the Gotham drug scene for a year when she was first spotted. At first, the goon who'd seen her had thought he was hallucinating. After all, this brightly dressed woman just strutted into the Red Hood's lair like she owned the place. Bill had rushed to inform the boss that their hideout had been breached, but he was unavailable. He reluctantly retreated back to his post, anxiously awaiting the alarm. But it never came.

Bill told the other henchman, but none of them believed him. Surely, the intruder would've been caught.

He didn't dare try to tell the boss himself.

Then it happened again, though this time, she stopped to talk. She handed out cookies and told them to tuck in their shirts! The goons couldn't believe it. As soon as she came, the strange pixie left, the people she left behind stunned. Rumors started spreading about the nice woman who licked her thumb to wipe the gunk off of one of their faces.

Everyone believed Bill after that.

Red Hood had an important meeting with other crime bosses, and all the henchmen were in a state of panic, trying to make sure everything would run smoothly. The boss always got grumpy when these meetings came around, and a grumpy Red Hood was a scary Red Hood.

A resounding crash echoed through the warehouse, silence blanketing them all. Red Hood slowly turned the blank white gaze of his helmet toward the source, a poor Bill standing next to a toppled crate of the weaponry shipment… that was supposed to go out tonight.

Red Hood's deep, robotic sigh was heard on the other end of the warehouse, making several of the newer goons require new underpants.

"Oh no, what happened here?"

And just like that, they were saved. There she was, in all her five-foot-two glory, their guardian pixie frowning at the mess. Red Hood sharply inhaled, turning to face the woman. "Marinette?"

For the first time, Red Hood took off his helmet, revealing a baby-ish face, a domino mask, and black hair with a shock of white. Wait, he knew this woman?

Marinette smiled, striding towards him from the doorway she was standing in. "Hey, mon chere."

Mon chere?!

Red Hood cleared his throat nervously, blush rising to his cheeks. "W-What are you doing here?"

Marinette reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a handgun. "You forgot this." She said sweetly, passing it to him. Bill wasn't thinking all that clearly and spoke up over the silence. "You know her, boss?"

"Wha-? Of course I do- wait, do you?!" Red Hood turned toward Marinette, receiving a sheepish smile in return. "Well," She started, hands clasped behind her back. "You're not always available when I come to see you, and I happened to have some leftover cookies from movie night, so I passed them out!" She smiled up at Red Hood innocently, her glasses glinting in the harsh warehouse light. He turned back to her, crossing his arms, and no one would believe Bill when he told the story later, but Red Hood honest-to-God pouted at this small woman. "C'mon, Mari! I've got a rep to maintain here! Doing your whole routine is gonna mess it up!"

Marinette laughed, brushing her short hair behind her ear and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Oh, don't be like that. You're plenty scary, even with my leftovers. Besides, they won't say anything, right?" She turned her gaze to the rest of the warehouse, and all of a sudden her light, bubbly demeanor took on a hard edge. All the henchmen quickly voiced their agreements, eager to leave the strange alternate universe they'd entered, where Red Hood was the least scary thing in the room.

Just like that, her sunny smile was back, relieving the goons. "See? No problem! I'll see you at home!" Marinette breezed out of the warehouse, and Red Hood put his helmet back on, and they were back in reality. "Well?" His modified voice barked out, "we've got shit to do. Get moving!"

Bill was never going to look at Red Hood the same again. Not knowing he had that wonderfully terrifying woman as a lover.

Also, was it just him or did Red Hood seem awfully young?

#batman fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat march 2024 #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #jasonette #bill the henchman is there too #pixie cut mari w/glasses #cus I said so #I would use a different word at the end there #but the prompt is lover so

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ludi-ling · 1 year

Text

Sunday Morning

Rogue and Gambit Week 2023, Day 6. Prompt: Valle Soleada

*A little treat for all you guys. My brain is firmly stuck on my longer form fics at the moment, but here is something I wrote back in 2004 and has never seen the light of day. No one, apart from angyxoxo almost 20 years ago, has ever read this saucy little (long?) drabble. Have fun!*

“Remy, darlin’…”

Her hand slides across my chest, stopping midway over my heart, fingers spreading out, one, two, three, four, five, as if to relish the simple sensation of skin upon skin. Her face is nuzzled against my side, but her eyes are closed – I have no idea whether the words she has just spoken have been uttered while awake or asleep.

“Oui, ma chere?”

She doesn’t answer for a long while. But her fingers contract, then open again, rubbing me gently, a familiar exercise in substantiating that what she touches is, in fact, real.

“…Dontcha evah leave me, y’hear?” she finishes off, in a voice less hoarse and sleep-bound than it had been before.

I chuckle briefly, taking her hand in mine, knitting our fingers together, holding them tight.

“Now why’d I want t’ do dat?” I ask her. She shifts, ever so slightly, so that one green eye pokes out sleepily from the behind a strand of white hair.

“Ah’ve lost yah too many times before t’ take moments like this for granted, swamp snake,” she drawls huskily. Hmm, morning conversation, you gotta love it. There’s nothing sexier than waking up to that lazy Southern drawl of hers.

“I don’t t’ink neither of us is likely t’ be goin’ anywhere fast de way t’ings stand now, chere,” I answer, running my free hand through her auburn locks. Funny, this. We’ve known one another for too long, but we’ve never known one another enough, or as much as we would’ve liked to; or at least as much as we would’ve liked in certain, shall we say, aspects. How many years was it that this was a fantasy of mine, to wake up beside her in the morning, in a bed we called our own, lying flesh to warm, naked flesh? And here we are now, and we’ve been waking up like this every morning for the past five months and the novelty of the fantasy-become-reality still hasn’t worn off. I wake up beside her and it’s still the most goddamn exhilarating, whimsical, cozy, sexy and passionate thing I’ve ever experienced. And let me tell you, this Cajun’s experienced a hell of a lot of things in his life.

“‘Bout time,” she remarks between a yawn. “Been runnin’ away from each other enough t’ put an escapee convict t’ shame.”

“Y’ still tired?” I ask her, brushing the tousled white strands of hair from her forehead.

“Hmm. Didn’ get much sleep last night.”

Neither of us did. There was a good reason for that. The previous night had been Valentine’s, and we’d naturally indulged ourselves with a three course meal at a fancy restaurant, some –ah– energetic dancing to live acid jazz, naturally fuelled by rather too many bottles of vintage wine; not to mention three hours worth of gourmet lovemaking afterward... Nope – life doesn’t get much better than that. Or this. And I thought I’d experienced all that Valentine’s had to offer.

“Heh. I hear that.”

“Lucky it’s Sunday,” she comments, eyes closed.

“Yeah. We get t’ lie in an’ sleep off our hangovers.”

“An’ have some time for other things,” she returns, rather cheekily. And not a little suggestively.

“Are you proposin’…?”

“Ah ain’t proposin’ nothin’,” she retorts petulantly. Women. ‘When they say no they mean yes’ and all that. But she’d already given herself away. I let go of her hand and stroke the length of her arm with a cajoling air.

“O’ course you weren’t, mon coeur,” I reply slyly. Slowly my fingers creep up her arm towards her shoulder. By the time I’ve got far enough to tickle her armpit she’s already left it too late. With a gasp she swivels away from my grasp, pounding her fists playfully into my chest. If there’s one thing she hates it’s being tickled under the arm. The past few months I’ve learnt through bitter experience that if you want to make her angry, that’s the fastest way to do it. Unfortunately for her, I happen to find her peevish expression endlessly appealing.

As soon as she sees me laughing she knows what that ruse had been all about.

“Damn you, Remy LeBeau, if you do that again, you are so dead!” she scowls, teeth bared.

“You wouldn’ hurt me, an’ you know it,” I counter brazenly, looking back up at her insolently. She glares at me, emerald eyes blazing. Honest to God, I don’t know which version of her looks more arousing:- sleepy, angry, bed-head Rogue; or jazzed up, femme fatale Rogue, complete with lacy black underwear, stockings and suspenders, evidence of which lies about the bedroom floor from last night’s little –ahem– adventure.

“Oh? An’ what makes you think that Ah wouldn’t?”

“Because, mon bijou, you love me too much to lay a finger on me.”

“Ah’ll lay a finger on you all right,” she levels fiercely at me, although she can’t stop me from noticing the decidedly naughty sparkle that’s suddenly entered her eyes.

“Oh, an’ now I’m so scared,” I return smoothly, goading her.

“Forget it, Remy,” she seethes, eyes narrowed. “You ain’t gonna have your way wit’ me, not this mornin’. Your stupid tricks don’t fool me!”

“Maybe not by usin’ stupid tricks, chere,” I reply. “But dis t’ief always has other methods hidden up his sleeves.”

“Oh yeah?” she half-grins. “Like what?”

“Like bein’ the irresistible, lovable rogue that he is,” I answer with an outrageous wink. She laughs, all trace of her anger gone.

“Dontcha evah get tired of bein’ so full o’ yourself, Cajun?” she asks.

“Not when I can have my fill o’ you, chere.” Technically, any man would be pushing his luck by now, but not me. Not with my in-built charm. It’s come in infinitely handy in the past, and now is no exception. The thing with Rogue is, she knows when I’m using it on her. She could just as easily turn it all round back at me. What she doesn't admit is that she loves it when I try to seduce her. The more suggestive I get the less she can resist. I can see the conflict in her eyes right now. Those gorgeous eyes… Mon Dieu, I want her right now.

“After last night,” she begins, leaning in playfully, finally giving in to what, in the end, we both want, “Ah woulda thought you’d already had yah fill o’ me and then some, swamp rat.”

��Chere,” I begin, chancing the risky maneuver of slipping an arm round her waist and gently rubbing the small of her back, “this Cajun ain’t never gonna get tired o’ you, no matter how many times he has his fill of you. Or how many times he fills you, for that matter.” Another gamble and we both know it, but I ain’t called Gambit for nothing. She doesn’t give in grudgingly. What would be the use in that? She’s loved me for too long, she’s been without me for too long. Now she can have me all she wants, and Rogue’s greedy for love just as much as she’s greedy for touch. She’ll take all she can, but she’ll never buy or sell herself cheap. If she won’t put out, I sure as hell will. Don’t forget, it takes two to tango, and she’s not the only one who’s been starved.

“Remy,” she purrs, half in reaction to my innuendoes, half in reaction to my tender ministrations, at the current moment concentrated solely on her back though admittedly creeping rather dangerously low, “you are a very naughty boy.”

“O’ course,” I murmur in agreement. It isn’t lost upon me just how close her lips now are to mine. And the way her breath tickles my cheek as she enunciates every little word drives me crazy. Steady, Remy, steady. Connoisseur of the seductive arts I may be, but Rogue has an annoying way of beating me at my own game. “And whatcha you gonna do about it, hmm?”

“Hmm,” she pretends to think about it, tracing an intricate pattern along my cheekbone and my chin and across my lips. “It’s like they always say - one day yah have t’ make good on your innuendoes. An’ Ah do believe you’ve made several years worth of un-acted-upon innuendoes.”

“So how long before I work dem all off, sweet?”

“Well, Ah think after last night, we’re probably about…hm, halfway there, shall we say?”

“Only halfway? Still a long ways t’ go, chere. Might as well work off a few more while we’re here.” I bolster the suggestion by placing a tender kiss on the tip of her finger while rather adventurously groping that cute li’l butt of hers under the covers. Goddammit I want her right now, and she knows it, she has that funny little gleam in her eyes that tells me that, once again, it’s me that’s fallen victim to her charms and not the other way round.

“Ah don’t know, sugah, maybe we should string it out some, y’know…make it last.”

Merde! She definitely knows she’s killing me here! Suggestive banter is never so goddamn fun as it is with her, but for some reason, today, this morning…I haven’t felt this horny in a good long while, and that’s saying something. And for some reason, she’s never looked so indescribably gorgeous as she does right now.

“Mon Dieu, you’re beautiful,” I murmur, brushing away the perpetually falling locks of that white skunk stripe from her cheek. “What’d I ever do t’ deserve you?”

“Remy,” she murmurs back, leaning in closer. “Shuddup an’ kiss meh.”

Me shut up? She was the one doing all the talking. But, in such situations, the best thing to do is not to argue. So I shut up and let her do the rest.

I could go on forever about what it’s like to kiss Rogue. There’s two types of kisses that she’ll give you – the one that steals your powers, and the one that steals your soul. Both so similar, both so different. The first is a kiss of life and death, the second is a kiss of passion. I’ve tasted both – I’ve tasted both mingled, so that I couldn’t even tell where love and life and death begins. I’d never tasted anything so wonderful and sweet and deathly as the kiss she gave to me in Israel, so many years back. I’ve danced with death before, but never in the way I danced with it when she first put her lips, her mouth, on mine. For that one moment, I would gladly have died. Just as, whenever I make love to her, I feel the love-death, and I can’t explain it, the feeling’s too intense, too incandescent, and yet so subtle I can hardly distinguish it from the shuddering starbursts that are our shared climaxes.

Now she puts her mouth on mine. Now we kiss, and it isn’t like the first time, but it’s like our first time should have been. She has a kiss so charged it could set Antarctica ablaze – and let me tell you, I’m one of only a few who could tell you just how cold it is out there. But it’s best not to think about that, not here, not now… It’s only so much water under the bridge, and to be honest, mentioning Rogue and Antarctica in the same sentence usually conjures up images of a less than arousing nature…

The kiss pushes all further thoughts of anything out of my head, let alone thoughts of Antarctica – save for the irresistible, primeval urge she always unfailingly seems to invoke in me. Both of us are caught up in the stupid notion that somehow we can make this moment last, that it doesn't have to end, that if we kiss one another hard enough somehow we’ll stay that way forever. I run my fingers through her hair, brush her cheek – the tactile never feels so special, so novel as it does when I touch her. The fifth sense, so underrated, so taken for granted, is nothing short of a godsend to the two of us.

She breaks away slowly, nipping my lower lip playfully as she does so. She’s goading me, and I know it; she sees the understanding and lust in my eyes, smiles, nuzzles her face against my cheek, presses light kisses to the corner of my mouth. In response to her invitation I grasp her by the waist, swivel round; she gasps as I capture her beneath me and bury my face into that soft, succulent dip between her neck and shoulder. God, she smells good – traces of last night’s perfume still cling to her, but it’s more than that, a mingling of that lavender scent with her shampoo and that unique aroma that she continually carries around with her regardless… I think of the fine sheen of sweat on her as we danced last night, the heaving of her chest as she pants for breath and laughs in pure delight, in unadulterated elation… The memory of her scent is tied to this recollection, this fleeting instant in time photographed so neatly in a three-dimensional imprint of touch and smell and sight and sound.

And now taste:- I taste the memory, I lathe my tongue over her soft, warm, scented skin, I suck in the flavour of her, the flavour that’s so familiar and yet so indescribably elusive, so that every time I taste it, it seems new, it seems inspired.

“Remy…” she begins, she wants to make it sound like a warning, but she fails – instead it comes out as a plea and a concession, a note both of supplication and permission, a giving and a taking. Her voice is soft, wistful, whimsical; her arms encircle me, her hands rub my shoulder blades, surrendering herself yet ensnaring me in her trap, the delicious trap that is her body.

“I want y’, chere, I want y’ so much…”

The words come out incoherent to my own ears, an unnecessary articulation of a train of thought that involves actions, not slow and ineloquent speech. She has already yielded to me anyhow; her thighs rub coyly against my own, she surrenders her lips to mine eagerly: we kiss, we fall.

I thought I knew all there was to know about love. Of all the women I ever shared my bed with, none of them were ever playthings to me – I will not lie and say I loved them, but, during those moments, those long, fervent, passionate nights that I spent with them, I cared for them, each and every one. Maybe I even made believe I loved them. Maybe I thought I did, or maybe I pretended I did, or maybe it seemed like love at the time. Sex is, after all, sex, wherever or however you do it, or whoever you do it with. How then, can I hope to convince you that with her it’s different? That with her, it’s not just about desire, or the gratification of a sexual pleasure that one or both of us share? That it is not even simply just a giving or a taking of one another, or that it is a mutual and intimate sharing that only we, lovers, lovemakers, can understand? There’s nothing so safe, so secure, so warm, so personal as holding her in my arms, as relishing her flavour and her fragrance, of feeling her tender limbs against mine, the subtle delicacy of her fingers in my hair, of the warmth of her smooth skin against my flesh. Sometimes, the quietest, most torpid of encounters are the best; they are the moments I can savour what we share in manifest form, moments when I can measure the sum and strength of our love, and I could lie there in her arms forever and try to analyse it, and the answer would never come to me. Morning sex, sleepy sex, the languid exchange of our bodies, is the subtle equation of our love, an enactment of this strange bond we share in slow motion, a thing which opens itself as a book yet cannot be read. I will never be able to grasp the meaning of this act – its significance eludes me – but I catch a glimpse of it, during this one precious, passionate act.

One thing I learnt was, I never knew what love was until I met her, until I waited for her, until I touched her, until I tasted her.

Now we are locked together. Our kiss is slow, soft, as if the world could wait for us, as if it had already ended and no longer mattered and no longer owned us. As I kiss her I slide into her, softly, softly: this is a pivotal moment in lovemaking, any man would tell you that; the pleasure of penetration involves no sacrifice: we infringe, we take, always. But for her there is pain-pleasure, the beginning of love-death… I feel myself enter her, I feel her receiving me; I watch that reception on her face, in the dim pallor of her eyes drawn back; but I feel it too, on her mouth, the way she imbues our kiss with the lowest, softest of moans; it excites me, to feel the echo of her pleasure on our conjoined lips, our embracing tongues… There is nothing so sweet.

We barely kiss now, the kiss is broken and yet continues; our lips touch, but it is our cries that own our mouths, not one another. We make love slowly, finding more pleasure in the analysis and synthesis of each other, in the lazy journey of mutual discovery. My hands travel her body, her breasts, her stomach, her hips…It is always the same ritual, I never tire of it. Sometimes, she’ll be on top; but Rogue’s an old-fashioned girl, and when it comes down to it, she prefers the good old missionary position. Whether on top or not, I never fail in this ritual, this exploration of her body – in either instance it gives me equal pleasure (although admittedly, to see the way she arches her back when she straddles me, when I touch her there, has always been something of a personal turn-on). The number, the equation, the perusal of her amounts to this and yet so much more. On mornings such as this, I will take the lead, I will be on top of her in order to understand why it is that I love her the way I do.

My hands grip her hips. I draw back, I look into her face; I try to see in her eyes what I do to her, what she does to me, what we do to and for one another. She looks back at me, wordless, but not voiceless – what I look for I see, but it always remains elusive and just outside my grasp. Her expression changes. Her eyes roll back, her pupils dilate, her breath comes short, ragged; our ministrations become more fevered now; we push, I groan, she sighs; I remember my pleasure, my lust, where I had forgotten it: and yet I exacerbate it in gazing at her beautiful, agonized face. I bury my head into her bosom, smell the lavender scent, smell the sweat, smell her fragrance, smell our mingled fragrance… I feel her hips beneath mine, grinding… Desperation… The quiet wonder of our exploration has been shattered; now the journey finds itself disrupted; our movements are hurried, urgent; we have lost the importance of meaning, only the destination matters for us and we strive for it, we strive so goddamn hard…

She laces her fingers in my hair, I hear her call my name, in a voice so far-away, so delicate it hardly seems real. Why does she do that, why does she make it sound so beautiful? I grunt with the exertion of my effort to take us both there, but she eases me, she holds onto me and eases me, balancing out the rhythm of our bodies, slowing me, guiding me, trusting me. My breath shallow, regular, I lick the sweat from my upper lip, I raise my head and look into her eyes; she half smiles, encouraging. Her legs wind about my waist, pulling me deeper into her; I gasp, but her cry is long drawn out, half wail, half moan; her hands grip my hips, my shoulders, my hair… And as for me, I keep her rhythm, I follow the soft melody of her cries, I match the rise and fall of her hips… Slower, more focused, in perfect harmony the pleasure increases tenfold. I’m nearly there, I can feel it. I’m nearly at the sum of that simple equation, that one and one makes two.

I tell her so, or think I do.

“Wait,” she tells me. “Oh, wait…”

I renew my efforts, gritting my teeth, giving myself into the torture of loving and waiting for her; ten seconds seem to last forever during this one key moment when we end the equation, and, if we can, we end it together. She presses against me hungrily, her cries as laboured as her breath – I know when she approaches the moment, when she pauses, when she clasps me to her, when she arches back; I allow her to hit the climax first because, inevitably, she draws me in; we orgasm together, bodies straining so that it is not only our very existences that seem to shatter, but everything else, the moment, the time, the space, our beings, the only things that exist inside and out of that one jangling, earth-rending instant. I hear her voice, the triumph, the ecstasy, the bittersweetness of it all; I cannot recall what I sound like – what is important to me at that moment is the thought that, if I could die, it would be here, now, with our bodies joined… That here, now, with our bodies joined, it feels like death, it feels like love and it feels like death, and it feels like dying and being reborn all over again.

The moment itself is shattered, splintered – it is cut short, in the earliest seconds of its earliest stages; yet, strangely, it lasts a lifetime. We barely know when it is over. For a long time after, we lie there, still somewhat entwined, each privately experiencing the last vestiges of the orgasm we have gifted to one another – the present, first shared, now savoured. Meanwhile we comfort ourselves with the security that is the cradle of our naked bodies; we nestle into one another, like birds come home and settling in for the night. The peace, the unreality is only broken when the sound of our voices brings us home.

“Ah love you,” she murmurs into the side of my chest, and somehow the words seem painfully inadequate; they don’t even go halfway to describing what love is, not after the both of us have seen it and felt it somewhere in the maelstrom of our fervid lovemaking. We both know that. But I know what she refers to when she says, ‘I love you’. And she knows what I mean when I say ‘I love you too’ in return.

“I love you too,” I say.

We don’t need to prove it. But vocalising it into these simple words, that simple sentence, somehow gravitises it; it is no longer simply something imperceptible and inexplicable, a mood, a passion, a whim that floats freely in the air and blesses whoever it may chance upon. It is as solid and real as our bodies, it is as tangible as our flesh-to-flesh embrace. This is how I first knew that I loved her, and that I’d never truly loved another woman before her. In vocalising it, what I feel becomes the ultimate in expressed reality.

She smiles. Her expression is sleepy, full of wonder; her cheeks are still flushed. She looks so beautiful, so radiant, so earth-bound…

“Why do you love meh?” she drawls. It is less a question than an expression of wonder. Her accent tends to get stronger in the mornings. It’s undeniably sexy.

“Does there haveta be a reason?” I whisper back. We do this often. Whisper. Murmur. Maybe it’s because we don’t want to lose a hold of the moment, because we don’t want to shatter it any more than we have to with unwieldy words.

“There’s always a reason,” she replies seriously. She pauses, goes into another line of questioning. “What makes me so different from all those other women?”

I can tell she’s not going to let this one slip by. She can be vain like that. She loves to hear the compliments I have to give her. I could tease her badly if I wanted. But she’s giving me that look. The one that could disarm a whole platoon of heavily-armed soldiers quicker than her fists could.

“I dunno,” I answer at last, perusing her face thoughtfully. “Your eyes. Your smile. Your laugh. De way you sass me. De way you make coffee. De way you always put de toothpaste on my brush b’fore you come out de bathroom. De way your accent gets heavier in de mornin’s. De way you leave de toilet seat up for me…”

“Only ‘cos you leave it down for me, sugah,” she interrupts, grinning and stroking the dip between my chin and lower lip with an index finger.

“…Not to mention dat gorgeous bod o’ yours. You want me t’ go on?”

“Ah could just listen t’ your compliments all day long, sugah,” she smiles, disengaging herself from my arms and propping her cheek up with the palm of her hand, drawing lazy circles on my chest with the other. “But Ah think we should save some up for another time, jus’ so’s you don’t run outta things t’ say.”

I stare at her, grinning inanely. Why do I let her toy with me so much? If Lapin and Theoren and all those others back the Guilds heard about this, they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

“You know what Ah’ve been thinkin’?” she asks whimsically.

“What?” I’m trying to concentrate on the patterns she’s drawing on my chest. Right now they appear to be figure eights.

“Do y’ reckon, if we were t’ go an’ see the different versions of ourselves in all those alternate realities out there… In how many d’you think we’d be t’ogther? Or d’you think that this is the only reality in which we’re t’gether, an’ that us, here an’ now, in this world… that we’re just an anomaly?”

I stare at her. This is Rogue being unusually and overly philosophical.

“You t’ink dat’s possible?” I begin, running a hand through her hair pensively, “Funny dat. I always thought it was de rest of dem realities dat were de anomalies, not ours.” I pause momentarily, start again. “I don’t believe we could be an anomaly, chere.”

“Why not?” she asks, with the peremptoriness of a child.

“B’cause this jus’ feels too right, p’tit,” I reply. “B’cause nothin’s ever felt so right, ‘cept for us. We made for each other, Roguey. I can feel it in my bones.”

“An’ it’s that simple, huh?” she asks, a humorous smile on her face.

“Yes, it’s dat simple,” I reply, a wry grin on my face as stroke her bare thigh playfully. She laughs, husky, free, easy. I love her laugh. She never used to laugh like this. But then, she’s never had a lot of things to laugh about until a few months ago. Before then, simply laying a bare finger on her skin would have been impossible, nothing short of a death-wish. It’s a miracle then, that we are both able to do this, to have a relationship in the fullest sense of the word, to be lying here, face to face, talking, laughing, being ordinary…

“Well, if it’s so simple, then Ah guess there’s no point in me hangin’ around an’ talkin’ ‘bout it,” she replies, sitting up, but I quickly put out a hand and grasp her wrist, stopping her.

“Aw, Rogue, y’know they say afterplay’s as important as foreplay, chere,” I whine plaintively. “Stay a few more minutes.”

“Ah need a shower,” she pouts at me. “An’ you’re not invited. We been goin’ at it like rabbits the past twelve hours, an’ if Ah put out anymore, it ain’t gonna be healthy.”

“Au contraire,” I remind her suggestively. “Sex is just about one of de healthiest activities out there.”

“In moderation,” she counters heatedly.

“Ain’t no limit, chere, as long as it’s wit’ only one partner.” Dieu, am I sounding desperate yet or what?

“Ah can’t believe we’re havin’ this conversation,” she sighs in irritation, getting up. I should’ve known that last remark would only make her more mad. I sigh. Pushed your luck there, LeBeau. She’s right anyhow. We should quit while we’re ahead. Too much of a good thing can get bad. And we have had fun the past twelve hours…

I watch her sashay into the bathroom. She’s doing it on purpose to punish me, showing off that cute butt and that sexy walk of hers. I groan as the door slams behind her and I hear her lock it. Usually, I’d be the one carrying her into the shower; I’d tenderly wash her clean of our mingled juices; inevitably we’d become excited once more and end up making love all over again right there in the shower. We both know that if we step into that bathroom together that’s eventually what’s going to happen. And I don’t blame her for putting her foot down, to be honest. After last night… Well, like I said, too much of a good thing can get tedious after a while. Right?

So why am I not convincing myself? The truth is, I could be with Rogue whenever, wherever, and however, and I still would never get bored.

“I t’ink you misunderstood me, chere,” I shout in the general direction of the bathroom. “Gambit was only anglin’ for a hug an’ a kiss… Chere, are you hearin’ me? Maybe I can join you in dere, non?”

Her only answer is to turn the shower on full blast.

She emerges later, while I’m in the kitchen cooking breakfast. While frying the eggs she steals up behind me with a stealthy silence that would put any ninja to shame. I start only briefly as she wraps her arms round my waist and buries her face against my back. Her embrace is too warm, too delicate to startle me for long. I delight in the thrill that her touch sends across my bare skin. I know then that all traces of our previous quarrel have been forgotten.

“Is this good enough for you, sugah?” she asks, purposefully trailing her warm breath along the line between my shoulder blades. I shudder involuntarily.

“Good enough for what?” I ask, my voice suddenly thick. See what this femme does to me! One touch and I’m crazy for her again. Remy LeBeau ain’t never been in a trap so helplessly reinforced before. Especially not one built and orchestrated by a woman. Not that I’m complaining or anything…

“Y’ said you wanted a hug an’ a kiss, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss with just a hint of teeth against my right shoulder. I get the impression that our little spat has definitely been forgotten.

I pause, setting down the spatula and swivelling round to slide my arms about her waist. She looks great, wet hair tousled, and wearing just a simple white T-shirt I’d left discarded somewhere about the bedroom. And the scent of the shower gel is so soft and light it makes me want to bury by face in her neck and drift away without a care in the world.

“Hm,” I say, passing her one of those broad, suggestive smiles that always works so well on women. “I was t’inkin’ more of me wit’ my arms around you, an’ a kiss on de lips…”

“Ah think it’s a little too late for afterplay, Cajun,” she murmurs seductively, yielding to my embrace and sliding her arms up my shoulders and around my neck.

“Well, howzabout we engage in a little more foreplay den?” I propose a little too optimistically, while leaning forward quickly to kiss her before she has a chance to say no. We lock lips feverishly in a blistering kiss that takes our breaths away, while our hands wander not a little too boldly. By the time we break apart her fresh underwear is already sopping wet, and we would probably have ended up making love again right there on the kitchen table, if not for the fact that the eggs had begun to burn, and had threatened to bring the house down in an inferno almost as heated and passionate as our own.

Unspoken rule of the house: if it can be helped, I’m the one that does the cooking.

Rogue is a terrible cook. The mess I’d made of the eggs due to neglect looked more like something she’d come up with, even with unreserved concentration. Rogue tackles food like it’s her worst enemy – she’ll hack at meat like an axe murderer and chop up potatoes instead of peeling them. Watching such horrors in action is like torture to a culinary master such as myself; so much so that, after the first few days of our living together, I had effectively banned her from the kitchen under pain of death. That had earned me several day’s worth of enforced celibacy as a punishment: yup, she’d actually held her body to ransom on account of that little episode. Four days later, I was on the verge of insanity, wondering how I was ever going to compromise the idea of no sex versus food poisoning for the rest of my life. Women are clever like that. Rogue is no exception. And when she’s mad, let me tell you, she’s mad.

Eventually, we came to a compromise. She could have access to the kitchen, under the condition that I not have to eat anything that was made by her fair hands; and/or her cooking should be a joint venture between the two of us. Because I can tolerate hacked up veggies in my gumbo, as opposed to gumbo that leaves me bed-ridden for a week or so. She had begrudgingly agreed to my terms; ten minutes after agreeing to them, she’d been all over me again as if nothing had happened at all – which had irked me more than just a little, and had convinced me that the best course of action was to beat her at own game and show her what a bit of enforced celibacy felt like. This had, of course, lasted all of half an hour, by which time I had already caved in and we were making up for four days worth of abstinence very vigorously on the living room sofa. She had had a smug smile on her face for days after that, and, being the couyon that I am, I just didn’t have the resolve to snub her, or, perhaps more humiliatingly, to keep my hands off her.

Now she helps me clean up the burnt eggs with a vicious frown on her face that seems to be accusing the poor scorched things of ruining all the recalcitrant little schemes she had had in store for me for the day. And there’s something oddly satisfying in the notion that her continued seduction of me has been thwarted by that most unassuming of her enemies – food.

Yup – forget Joseph, Longshot and Mags – if there’s anything that’ll nail the two of us, it’s burnt eggs.

Having re-cooked breakfast, we snuggle up on the sofa and watch TV. I like to stretch out and take up as much room as I can; she, invariably, will sit in my lap and lean her head against my shoulder, while the breakfast tray teeters precariously in her own lap. Rogue’s a sucker for French toast, and I have a feeling that’s half the reason why she decided to make it up with me. And bad cook she may be, but she makes a mean cup of coffee. So, all things considered, we’re pretty much quits.

Outside the sun is shining with full force – it’s midday, and outside the bright young things are going out to play. This is, after all, California. Rogue, however, has pulled down the blinds – the room has a cozy atmosphere as we settle down in true bohemian fashion in front of the TV. I’m not deceived. She wants to snuggle, and her pulling down the blinds is a way of shutting out the world from our embrace. Rogue’s like that – she can be capable of grandiose gestures when she wants to be, but when it comes down to it, she prefers her displays of affection to be private, secluded things, where she can secretly open them up and gorge herself on them like a box of chocolates. Understandable, for a woman who’s had to sacrifice so many of the things we take for granted.

I let her lower the blinds and snuggle into me without questioning. I understand her need to close us off from the outside world, if only for a little while. After so many years of pushing one another away, and a more or less utter inability to touch her, I am as grateful for her displays of affection as much as I enjoy them. There is so much warmth and passion inside her that I always knew simmered beneath the surface of her Southern Belle facade – to actually experience it, after all this time, physically as well as emotionally, is something that never fails to pleasantly surprise me. In many ways, the notion of us actually being a couple still hasn’t sunk in yet – we are living in a sort of dream period, where nothing exists but us. We live as we please, we take what we please, we love as we please. This is as much a new experience to me as it is to her. I’ve never made this type of commitment to any other woman before Rogue. I never knew that living with the girl I loved could be so fulfilling or rewarding. To both of us, this honeymoon period is one that could never end. We’ve spent too much of our lives running around being superheroes to appreciate the simpler things in life. And goddammit, we ain’t gonna let go of moments like these, moments that so many other, normal couples take for granted.

“So, I take it I’m forgiven,” I decide to blurt out, midway through breakfast, while my loving girlfriend dutifully passes toast over her left shoulder and into my mouth.

“’Bout what?” she asks, changing the channel with the remote. The news disappears only to be replaced by the Powerpuff Girls.

“Y’know, dis mornin’…”

“Oh, that.” Her voice is distracted. “That wasn’t an argument. Ah’d already f’gotten about it.”

Oh, of course, naturally. While I think she’s still sore and making me suffer over it, she’s all but gone and forgotten about it. Typical.

“Mon Dieu, femme, dis Cajun jus’ can’t keep up wit’ you,” I groan.

“How d’you think Ah manage t’ keep you interested?” she states slyly, giving me a wink and a grin over her shoulder.

“No need for dat,” I reply, leaning forward to nibble the lobe of her ear playfully. “You have other assets dat keep dis Cajun more n’ jus’ interested.”

“Like mah dancing skills?” she chuckles, switching the channel over again.

“Dat n’ more,” I answer, more absorbed in her than in what’s on the TV screen. It’s true though – after last night, Rogue proved once again that she is one great dancer. She enjoys teasing me about that, for some unfathomable reason. Okay, well maybe not so unfathomable. Before we came to Valle Soleada, back in one of the Southern states (I forget which – I don’t think we’d reached Texas by that time) we were at this bar where they were having a dancing contest. Now any femme that knows me knows that I dance a mean dance. Unfortunately, I had decided to brag about it that night, and Rogue had insisted that she could beat me in a competition without even having to make any effort at all. Naturally I’d scoffed at that, at which point she had literally dragged me onto the dance floor in order to prove her point.

Now to be honest, I’d never really seen Rogue dance before. Kurt had once told me that she likes to dance when she wants to cut loose, but unfortunately, I’d never been around to witness such an event. Kurt had said she dances like a demon. I hadn’t believed him. Until that night. She beat every other dancer roundly, including my own oh-so-talented self, and had even won a trophy for her troubles – which now stands conspicuously in a shelf facing the window, where it taunts me cruelly every morning when I come downstairs.

Last night her dancing skills had been used much more to my benefit than to my shame; besides which, latin jazz is always so much sexier than country or zydeco. She’d really jazzed (no pun intended) herself up for Valentine’s – I don’t even know how she managed to move inside that slinky green dress, let alone dance. But hell, she did it. It makes my heart flutter just thinking about it. I have the feeling that half the time she enjoys torturing me whenever we find ourselves in such situations. I’ve already had several years worth of such tortures, but she still puts me through them – I guess she knows they keep this Cajun in line. Last night she’d flirted like hell, just enough to drive me crazy with anticipation at the innuendoes she was throwing at me. A look, a wink, a touch, a peck on the cheek, a flick of the hair – that girl uses them all with the subtle refinement of a torturer with his bloody implements. But when she dances – Dieu, when she presses her body against mine and moves those hips the way she does… well, let’s just say that any hot-blooded male would be slavering over her in a matter of seconds.

Yup – my girlfriend gets a helluva lot of attention these days, especially now that she doesn’t have to worry about killing someone if they touch her. She’s knows I’m jealous and likes to tease me about it. But then, I know she’s jealous, although she tries to hide it – and yes, the levels of attention I get puts Rogue on the defensive whenever we go out together, wherever that happens to be. I always tell her jokingly – you wanna keep dis Cajun in line, all you gotta do is dance wit’ him. You dance wit’ him, he’ll be hot for you any time of de day or night.

Last night was no exception. In fact, the Valentine’s celebrations were effectively pretty much over the moment we’d got onto the dance floor. As soon as we’d tired ourselves out dancing we ran out the restaurant without another word and straight back home. And once we’d got home, well, it was straight to the bedroom. Now, let it not be said that Remy LeBeau takes his time to wine and dine and romance his woman. Let it not be said that he strings things out and woos a femme in the appropriate way. Remy LeBeau is debonaire, calm, suave. That is, unless he’s been dancing with Rogue in a slinky dress. Then, all sense of propriety is robbed from him completely. As soon as we’d slammed the bedroom door shut we were at it. What can I say, we were hot for each other like a warm day in Hell.

And once I’d unwrapped my Valentine’s present, it turned out I’d been in for a little surprise as well. Yup – underneath that slinky green dress, Rogue – who’s usually the no-nonsense, practical type in her dress-sense – had kitted herself out in the most expensively exquisite French underwear: black lace bra, panties, suspenders, silk stockings, garter, the whole damn works.

“Mon Dieu,” was all I could manage to splutter.

“You like?” she’d replied, doing a coy little twirl and flashing a hint of derriere at me like only the best of those Parisian girls can do.

“Like?” I’d repeated, giving her several eyefuls up and down. “Chere, you look simply…delectable.” So sue me, it was the only word I could find to describe her. She looked so damn fine I could’ve eaten her.

“Great,” she’d grinned, standing straighter again. “Now can you get these damn things offa me? These suspenders are chafin’ like no one’s business.”

I’d only been too happy to oblige her.

An old rerun of Buffy is now on, but I’d be willing to forego a whole season of Buffy for mon amant belle. She chuckles, dodging my lips so that the kiss I’d planned for her neck lands somewhere on her upper arm.

“Lemme guess – it wasn’t the dancin’,” she says, eyes sparkling as she looks over at me slyly. “You’re thinkin’ of the underwear, aren’t yah?”

“How’d you guess?” I answer, before leaning in to make another attempt to kiss her throat.

“Remy, you think Ah don’t know yah? Men are perverts. Y’all like seein’ women dressed up in horrible underwear that makes ‘em feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’ look uncomfortable to me, chere,” I murmur, finally scoring a bullseye in the kissing department. “You looked like Gambit coulda eaten y’ right up.”

“Hmmm.” She agrees on that point, her eyes suddenly wistful. Probably because Gambit did eat her up once he’d got rid of those lacy black panties, heh heh.

“An’ Gambit’s crazy for silk stockings,” I continue, taking advantage of the distraction to plant more kisses along her neck and shoulder. “Did he ever tell you dat? You should dress up more, Anna, chere, we could make t’ings real fun.”

“What, ain’t spandex good enough for yah?” she replies, her tone half-accusing, half-cajoling. She’s allowing me to kiss her anyways, which is always a good sign.

“Personally, Gambit prefers de leather,” I reply.

“Ah bet he does,” she levels at me, knitting her brows and frowning. On the one hand she’s annoyed that I’m trying it on with her again; on the other hand she’s enjoying it, so she’s having a hard time telling me where to lay off. Speaking of hard…

“Dammit, Cajun!” she swivels round, glaring at me. “What is it with you this mornin’? You on viagra or somethin’??”

I return her scathing look, somewhat offended. “Chere, does dis Cajun look like he needs viagra t’you?”

“Hmph.” She pouts, before biting savagely into her toast. Dieu, I could think of other places where that sweet little mouth of hers could be put to better use, but I know that if I tell her so it’ll be bad news for yours truly.

“What?” I ask innocently, trying to put away the lewd thoughts currently running round my head and not entirely succeeding.

“You may be Valle Soleada’s resident love machine, Remy LeBeau, but Ah ain’t your bitch, an’ Ah ain’t gonna be putting out for yah whenever yah want me to, y’hear?” she answers heatedly.

“But I wasn’ even suggestin’…”

“Yes, you were!”

“No I wasn’!”

“Oh really?! Well that li’l friend o’ yours down south was sayin’ somethin’ else entirely!”

I burst into laughter. I can’t help it. She looks so mad and sexy it’s hilarious. And just what the hell are we arguing for? Trust her to make an issue out of something so harmless.

“Oh, so it’s funny now, is it?” she grumbles, not even allowing herself to join in with me. I sober up quickly and put my arms back round her, sensing that this is more than just a little banter gone wrong.

“I didn’ know I was Valle Soleada’s ‘resident love machine’,” I tease, cuddling into her neutrally, trying to signal to her that the white flag’s been raised.

“You should hear what the gals in this town say about you,” she mutters darkly, still scowling.

“What?” I ask, nuzzling my nose against her perfumy hair, but resisting the tactical error of kissing her. I can’t help but ask. Come on, a guy likes to know when he’s appreciated.

“Just about what every gal thinks ‘bout you,” she replies, punching the remote and switching back to the Powerpuff Girls. It’s on the rolling credits, but she still stares at the TV anyway. That should’ve broadcasted to me loud and clear that she really was mad.

“What, dat I’m an overbearing bastard?”

“No.” She’s trying to sound patient, but the word comes out from between gritted teeth.

“Rogue, are you jealous?” I can’t resist poking at her.

“Hah!” Her voice is heavily lined with sarcasm. “What, like you were jealous when Joseph an’ Ah were together as friends, so much so that yah knocked the livin’ daylights outta him fer no reason whatsoever?”

“No reason?!” I splutter. See what I mean ‘bout femmes being clever? My darling girlfriend’s just gone and turned everything round on me in a single sentence. “De guy was hangin’ outside your bedroom window like de regular peepin’ Tom!”

“It was totally innocent, and you know it!” she seethes.

“Yeah, now I know – I didn’ know den,” I mutter. “An’ besides, I wasn’ about t’ lose ma chere to a long-haired pretty boy. Even if he was one of de only guys dat ever treated you wit’ respect.” I pause. “Not even Remy could do dat proper.” I finish on something of a sigh. I haven’t thought about Joseph in a long time. He was probably the only guy I was ever truly afraid of losing Rogue to. What made the whole thing even worse was that he’d treated her with all the love and respect that she’d deserved, whereas me – who’d told her countless times he loved her like he’d loved no other woman – I couldn’t even bring myself to show her that love. I was a fool. Even when we’d told each other how we felt, I couldn’t stop playing the field. I couldn’t stop hurting her.

She sees the woebegone look on my face, swivels round and places her hands gently on my face.

“Remy darlin’, it’s all in the past,” she murmurs. “Ah’m sorry, Ah shouldn’ have brought it up.”

“I was an idiot back den, chere,” I mutter, not without a hint of a sulk in my features. “He deserved you more n’ I did.”

“Ah loved you,” she says, touching her nose against my own. “An’ besides, Ah didn’t exactly treat you too kindly either.”

We both know what she’s referring to when she says this, the words ever so delicately put. For the moment we let the memories linger between us – painful memories, bittersweet. But we say nothing – everything that has needed to be said about this shared memory has been said. After a moment, she smiles sadly, presses her forehead against mine, kisses my lips chastely. Our past has been nothing if not torrid; and at times, it has been both brutal and hurtful. I suppose the people you love are always the ones that are easiest to hurt. And Rogue and I, having had an inability to commit for so long, whether physically or emotionally, have hurt one another almost as violently as we have loved one another. There were even times when I think we would have killed one another in order to express both the pain and the passion we have put each other through. But it’s over now. At last, we’re the way we always wanted to be – together. It’s a privilege we know we can’t take for granted. And now she kisses me as if to say she understands – it’s her way of saying sorry.

She pulls away, giving me one last little peck for good measure. The mood is still subdued; the room is quiet.

“So,” she begins after a short moment of silence, gently rubbing my chest, her voice nothing more than a notch above a whisper. “Y’all wanna know what the gals round here really say ‘bout you?”

A small grin plays across my face as I wrap my arms snugly round her waist again.

“Gambit t’inks he already knows what you’re gonna say, Roguey,” I reply in the same tone of voice, all quiet and softly-like, thinking we’re going to destroy the closeness we share otherwise. “But you go ahead an’ indulge me anyways, chere.”

“Well,” she begins innocently, “They think you got the most beautiful, gorgeous, cute, sexy…” She pauses momentarily as if to find another adjective, grinning broadly, “…an’ patient girlfriend they’ve evah seen, an’ they all wish they were her, b’cause…”

“Because you got me in the sack,” I finish for her in mock exasperation, sighing theatrically. “I know, I know! Y’know, sometimes it’s real hard playin’ de Casanova part. De ladies don’ give y’ a moment’s peace.”

She giggles, giving me a playful slap on the shoulder. “An’ you’d know all ‘bout that, of course,” she remarks, eyebrows knitting.

“Chere, you know I only have eyes for a certain green-eyed, brown-haired Mississippi river rat wit’ de world’s cutest skunk-stripe in her hair, right?” I reply, brushing a few white strands of her hair back over her ear and letting my fingers linger there a moment. “Y’know, de one wit’ de cutest tush dis side of Mason-Dixie, and dat sexy li’l mole on her…”

“Only Mason-Dixie?!” she echoes in feigned indignation, eyes wide.

“Okay, I take it back – howzabout de galaxy?”

“Sugah, we been a lot further than just this galaxy,” she pouts playfully. “Are you really sayin’ that Lilandra has a cuter butt than Ah do?”

“…De universe…?”

“An’ speakin’ of moles, you’re one t’ talk!”

“Heh heh.” I chuckle at that one. The whole ‘mole issue’ has landed me in some very –uh- interesting situations in the past. “You’re such a tease, p’tit.”

“So are you,” she pouts. It’s such a cute pout that I have to kiss it. She mutters ‘what the hell’ and caves in. I swear, life for us is like some crazy, deranged roller coaster. First we’re at it, then we’re not, then we’re at it again. Damn this girl! She’s only the most irresistible thing I’ve ever seen. Trouble is, she knows it. Like I said – she’s a like torturer with his bloody implements. Lucky for her I have a masochistic streak in me, heh heh.

It was as things were starting to get interesting that ...

*And that's where I stopped writing! Anyone wanna finish it? You're welcome to! 😂*

#rogue/gambitweek2023 #Romy fic #Rogue and Gambit #Rogue #Gambit #Remy LeBeau #Anna Marie LeBeau #Valle Soleada #rogue/remyweek2023

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headingalaxys-spicy · 10 months

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Mating Season AU: France 🇫🇷

Warning :🌶️ Spicy Content

He was strumming his medium-length manicured fingernails on his glass table. His smile was wide, and his thin tail whipped back and forth impatiently. He waited for the nighttime to fully show off the pink moon's glow. He would be at full power, and your body would begin to inch up to pink horniness. He glided over to his mirror that was installed in front of one of his cozy chairs so that he could be fully submerged in the enchanting view.

Francis had been planning this day like a well-crafted battle plan. He’d stalked you for a full year from a distance writing down all the things you adored, hated, or felt neutral about. He adored you and he wanted his first time with you to be something manifique! He’d set up the best lingerie in (fav color) that would complement your gorgeous skin. He’d also been refraining from relieving himself for a whole 365 days, so his urges were strong, and his relief could be felt from the highest heights of heaven. His cock was in serious pain as it was large and abundant with his seed. His bright blues glazed over to the clock only about five more minutes before his fun could begin.

You’d been at home relaxing after a long stressful day. Yet for whatever reason, your sixth sense of being watched was heightened tonight. You didn’t understand why seeing a glowing bright scarlet rose that twinkled brightly against the indigo sky caught your (eye color) eyes in a deep trance that somewhat put you at ease. There was a crisp gust of fresh spring air that whooshed past you. It felt as if a storm was brewing on the horizon. You suddenly felt something brush against your back and butt. When you turned around to confront the present that brushed up against you, there was nothing out of the ordinary to greet your sight. It was strange, but you let the thought go. It would be insane for you to dwell on something that couldn’t be sustained. But over the year, you thought over how this heightened fear of being watched or hunted rather. It would last for a few moments and sometimes even minutes….but this feeling of dread and a sudden onset of desire to be in one's arm was only getting stronger. It was like a pair of eyes was stuck to your body like glue and made you feel particularly vulnerable. As you watched the last of the sunlight fade and the pale pastel pink moon become more prominent in your view…your body began to feel extremely heavy, like being tied down with cinderblocks and being prodded with rose thorns. You also began to feel heat pool between your thighs.

‘Why?’ ‘What?’ Were the only thoughts that came to your mind. As the world around you became hazy and your vision began to fill with glittery pink smoke, the clouded your vision. You felt inebriated. You felt high. It was pure ecstasy.

You suddenly felt large but somewhat gentle hands run over your only slightly covered chest, which was beginning to swell with milk. You felt a woosh of hot air reach your neck before you felt a nibbling sensation in your left ear. A husky French voice whispered eagerly to you. It sent a shocking shiver down your spine. It hardly registered to you that a velvet (favorite color) teddy lingerie was over your body and straining the fabric hardly containing your coconuts.

“Hello, Mon Chere~” A few pointed kisses nailed at your collarbone began to disarm your senses more, dulling your initial shock from being pulled into a completely different realm altogether.

“Who are you? And why?” His hand had grasped your boob that continued to fill. You let out a loud moan that was like music to his ears. His cock was fully perked up and grinding on the back of your thigh.

‘How exciting! The execution of my plan was flawless! Y/N is hardly aware of what's happening to her!’

A hungry. ‘Hon. Hon. Hon.’ reaches your ear as the grinding becomes more aggressive.

“It’s nice that you’re finally in my arms, Y/N! Your soft body is like that of, fresh Tartiflette and you smell divine.” He places his nose in the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale. “I’m going to be devouring you tonight so that we can create a marvelous family tree! Our children will be so beautiful!” He felt himself stiffen some more and his hands gripped your thighs from behind, making sure that they were as far apart as possible.

“Ah! No wait …please” It didn’t come out as loudly or as strongly as you liked. Your vision was still clouded and you could feel the heat radiate off of a toned body that was just beneath you. You felt a claw-like hand scrape across your butt and move your lingerie with one swift move. He began to finger you while his other hand stayed busy as he massaged your swollen tits.

“You can feel free to sing my name to all of the demon kingdoms and to the heavens let everyone know!” As his finger toyed with your neither region and began to prepare you for a much larger size. His lips began to pepper your skin with kisses which did make your heart flutter but your mind feel confused. Where you having some lucid daydream that felt entirely real?

‘Nigh..ugh..I..’

“I what Y/N? Going to start singing my name? Which is Francis by the way.” Taking a break from kissing before he started his campaign to give you a few hickeys. He really wanted to leave his mark on his beautiful canvas. He started on your lower left collarbone and at first kissed your skin then progressively started to lick and nibble on your soft skin. The he bore his sharpened canines and sunk it in to make a mark and to make you bleed.

You let out a loud shriek in pain and your vision suddenly became crystal clear and you were able to see that you were no longer in your apartment alone you were in a large bedroom that was decored with tons of black lace.

“Oh Mon Chere, you have a nice scream. ” France sweetly teases. “And my name is Francis by the way.”

You felt like this was far more weird than some weird lucid dream. You wiggle free from his grip even though you were still in a pretty dazed state. But you wanted to fight back. You had to get out of this crazy dream. Although you didn’t want to admit the sudden emptiness between your legs desired more. You also hadn’t realized the small scratches from France’s sharp rose branches drew blood but also were the entry points for his love drugs.

“Oh my sweet Y/N, that was only the beginning.” He licked his lips eagerly. He was eager to get on top of you so he could fill your entire being. He was hardly registering anything that you were saying France had fully reached the height of his hunger, and it needed to be satiated.

When your eyes collided with the once pure cyan but transformed into scarlet eyes that burned with desire. Nothing could save you now. He snapped his fingers and rose thorns had pinned you to the bed with your arms above your head and your legs spread wide. The fantasy of you enjoying all of this is playing out like a live theatre show in Francis's mind.

“An actual demon!” You quiver out. Your body trembled and you weren’t entirely sure if it was out of pleasure or fear. You felt your thighs burn and felt Francis's body hair rub up against yours, only making your desire skyrocket. You squirmed a little but to no avail the thorns sunk deep within your skin, leaving further evidence that this was far more real than you’d like. And it would be only one of the many marks that prove that he’s claimed you.

Francis leaned down to plan a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t be scared, C’here. I’ll be rough only for the first hour or so. I can control myself….kind of.” That last part was reassuring…..

You only felt your body break out in a cold sweat, and you felt the lingerie that tried to cover you was now gone. Your bare body is all for him to see.

“I want to be passionate with you. Not harm you but, I’ve been holding back….” You felt his hands grip your behind firmly, and your hips gladly bucked up to reach the tip of his dick. Francis had to bite the bottom of his lip for a moment as he was excited and wanted to savor this moment for his long-term memory: Your dazed loving sight, vulnerable and ready to devour. His cock teased you a little as it went up and down your wet vagina. You let out an audible squeak that sounded mostly excited but still confused.

‘It’s possible I’m hallucinating somehow.’ Still in denial of the situation that is unfolding.

Francis's sudden first trust within you was a shocking surprise. His girth was large and his earlier strokes did nothing to prepare you for his size. While he lets himself pulsate in your walls, he takes a moment to help you get a better grasp of the situation.

“No, you're not hallucinating, my love. I’ve chosen you to be my mate so you can bear my children.” He lets out a low moan and grunts as he continues to hold himself back from pumping into you just yet. The hairs all over his body stood and and felt electrifying. It swept over your glossy skin making the urges you felt within you worse and caused all of your body to begin to heat up with tension as you began to feel your heartbeat faster. He leaned his head down to grace your forehead with more kisses as he gently whispered your name and began saying sweet nothings in French. The brush of his stubble touched your skin tanatilizingly and you meweled under him as he moved his member moved inside of you slowing adding to the needy heat and pressure within you.

“Oh honey, you don’t have to hold back I know you want to moan loudy~” As if on cue you do so.

“Ahhhhh~” It was weak but filled with pained lust. Francis had gripped your hips tighter and forced himself deeper into your scorching core. You hear him chuckle as he thrust into you once with the force of a jack hammer.

“Ah!” The sharp reactionary scream rings to his ears and makes him about to lose the last few threads over himself. He began to kiss you to the bridge of your nose, to the tip of it and takes over your lips in an elongated kiss that drew all of your breath and strength from within you. His lips moulded with yours like wet clay being shaped to his perfect fantasy.

“Y/N. Y/N……….” He sings out to you as he takes one more chance to give you yet another hickey on your collarbone. His speed is beginning to pick up progressively and your overstimulated by all of the sensations that not only leave you on cloud nine but also confused about the state of where you are and what your life is now supposed to look like.

Francis tail wraps around your stomach and clenches it tightly. Francis hands move from your breasts that swelled to the size of ripe pumpkins down to your sweaty thighs and gripped them tightly. He was beginning to reach his climax.

“Say my name C’here!” He calls out to you desperately.

Your mind dispells some of the fog and you’re able to recognize that who you’re making love to isn’t someone that is fully human. But you wanted to be able to preserve yourself and not die. All you could do was let out a low pleasured grunt and try to remember his name. What was it again?

He thrusted into you harshly and you let out a squeak. It jogged your memory through the thick sweet haze that was continuing to cloud your mind.

“Ance!” is what you squeeked out in reaction. He thusted hardly once more to help you with your brain fog. He continued until you were able to shout his name to the heavens.

“FRANCIS!” You yelled out it was like a symphony to his ears and Francis was high off the moment of being able to climax he released his hot seed within you and it spilled out onto the onyx duvet. He rode out the rest of his orgasim and pulled out his shrunken flaccid cock as he smothered himself with your heavy clevage. You whimper as your were still highly sensitive to touch due to your sexually heightned state.

“Oh, Y/N. I love you and I’m glad that you’re going to be my Queen.”

⭐️📖😊⭐️Thanks for reading ya‘ll ⭐️😊📖⭐️

#hetalia #hws france #hetalia mating season au #hws #hetalia fandom #yandere hetalia #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #headingalaxys spicy #ヘタリア #spicy hetalia #headingalaxys spicy writes #francis bonnefoy #hetalia demon au #x reader #oh boy ya girl is really on her nonsense #dark hetalia #hetalia imagines

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

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Just learned today we’ve all been calling wifey “mon cher” but apparently that’s the masculine version and we are supposed to be saying “Mon chere”

We have?

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koolkat9 · 11 months

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What are soft nicknames your favorite ships use for eachother?

GerEng

Arthur calls Ludwig (and frankly any of his partners) 'love', 'dear', 'darling', etc. Ludwig isn't much for nicknames, but when Arthur is feeling down he'll call Arthur 'Mein Hase" (my bunny).

NedCan

Matthew's go tos (for any of his partners really) 'sweetheart', 'babe' and when he wants to tease 'pooh bear'. Like Lud, Jan isn't big on nicknames either but he will call Matthew "mijn engel" (my angel) from time to time (He saw Matt as his angel even before dating because of everything he did to save Jan)

Fruk

Arthur uses the same nicknames as he does with Ludwig, but he specifically calls Francis 'frog.' Francis uses 'Angleterre' (because Arthur secretly finds his country name nice in French but he'd rather die than admit that), 'mon lapin,' and the regular 'mon amour', 'mon chere', etc.

CuCan

Mattie uses the same nicknames as I listed in NedCan. For Carlos I'm not 100% sure if these are accurate to the dialect of Spanish spoken in Cuba, but I tried my best with my translation app I have: 'mi amor', 'mi querida', 'cariño', etc. I almost want him to give Matt an animal based nickname like bear or moose, but idk

#hetalia #gereng #engger #geruk #nedcan #cucan #hws england #hws germany #hws france #hws canada #hws netherlands #hws cuba #fruk #headcanons #hetalia headcanons

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barbiemonamie · 7 months

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Chere follower,

Vous êtes cordialement invitée à célébrer mon anniversaire ! Date : 12/10/23 Lieu : @barbiemonamie1970 #barbiemonamiebirthday

J'espère vous voir à la fête pour partager des moments joyeux et mémorables !

Dear follower, You are cordially invited to celebrate my birthday! Date: 12/10/23 Location: @barbiemonamie1970 #barbiemonamiebirthday I hope to see you at the party to share joyful and memorable moments !

#barbie photography #barbie dolls #dolls #doll photography #fashion dolls #barbie world #barbie looks model 16 #dolls of tumblr

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chilewithcarnage · 1 year

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louis mon chere, have you ever seen theez animated picture show called bob l'éponge. it eez most amusing with its funny little sea creatures. but it vexes me so. thee character, an octopuss type thing, squidward tentacles. he is a true arteest, but thee other funney creatures treat him so poorly for his sardonic lease on life. i believe he is zee only one with a shred of intelligence to heem. come watch this with me lou wee~

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franciskirkland · 3 months

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Did Alfred and Mathieu ever go through a rebellious teenage phase? How did you and Arthur handle it?

Bonjour, ma chere! 😚

Ah, oui, of course they did. Most of us do, non?

When the twins were around 14, there was a period of time when Alfred was very defiant and seemed to act out for sole the purpose of angering his father. Instead it just made us disappointed and sad for our sweet boy.

His academic performance was starting to slip, but before his grades could drop, Arthur had a heart-to-heart conversation with him and helped him get back on track. He's such a smart man and a leader for our family 😍😍 He might seem impatient on the outside, but our children mean the world to him.

And Matthieu, why, he has almost given me a heart attack on several occasions!

I will never forget the one day, back when I was pregnant with Little Artie, so about three years ago. Matthieu came home with a bag and rushed into the bathroom. An hour later, he came out with jet black hair 😱😭 Sacre bleu!!!

I screamed bloody murder, and cried to him all evening about ruining his beautiful hair as we tried to wash it out, to no avail. We had to just let it fade, and he learned his lesson. Now he is grateful for the beauty God has given him.

And I have caught them using vape, which they should know better than to do, since we have little ones around! I am just thankful they are not into partying like some other kids are. Wine with dinner is one thing, but Arthur and I don't allow substances under our roof.

While they've grown out of making trouble for their Papa and I, they still have bad habits - like staying up too late or excessive screen time. Mais, who among us does not? At least they are honest with me and know they can come to Maman, or their father, with anything. They make us so proud 🥰🥰🥰

Avec tout mon amité,

François 😘💖🌹

#admin: sorry i left for work literally as you sent this 🥺🥺#merci!#aph france #hws france #roleplay blog #face family #ukfr #fruk #na twins #na bros

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allegra-writes · 1 year

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"Various Storms and Saints" Part I

Original gif by @hapireads

Lestat De Lioncourt x Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Human Au; Bank robber!Lestat

NSFW

Warnings: Knife play, hand jobs, rough sex, over stimulation, non-con elements, non-consensual drug use (unrelated to the sex).

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST

The scream died in Louis' throat even before the hand came up against his mouth to drown it, the crisp, expensive smell of his French perfume giving away the identity of the intruder inside the darkened apartment even before he spoke.

"Hush, mon chere" Lestat De Lioncourt breathed hot against Louis' ear, "it's just me…"

"Yeah, that is exactly why I should scream" Louis countered, yet his voice was barely above a whisper. Yet he did nothing to step away from his embrace, even as his knife left his neck to toy with the buttons of his black shirt.

The arm around Louis' waist tightened, pressing him against Lestat’s front, so he could clearly feel his need, hard as nails, against his lower back. Louis clenched his jaw, bracing against the shiver that was threatening to give him away.

"Ah, but I promise you, mon coeur" he cooed, puncturing his words with a long, filthy lick along the side of Louis' long neck, "before this is over, I will make you scream"

This time, there was no disguising the wanton sound that escaped the brunet's throat, right before Lestat dug his fingertips into his jaw, forcing Louis' head back to crush his mouth to his in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and hunger. Lestat bit down hard on his prisoner's lower lip when he failed to kiss back fast enough.

"Don't be a brat" He warned Louis as he shook his head, trying to clear it, to break out of the blond criminal's spell.

"You shouldn't be here, Lestat" He breathed out, praying the words would come out steadier than he felt, "The police sent another alert for you. They think you killed that bank employee, Miss Brown"

He felt Lestat stiffen at his back, felt the tip of his knife poke at the soft flesh where the shoulder meets the neck.

"And you want to know if it's true?" He spat, "Is that what you're asking?"

"Lestat…"

His blade snapped the buttons holding Louis' shirt closed, the hand around his waist traveling up to feel up Louis’ newly exposed skin.

"They're right. I did it." He rasped, flickering a nipple, sending sparks of electricity straight down Louis' spine, "She told me I had to let you go, so I pushed her out of the window"

His tone was sardonic, and Louis couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or telling the truth. What was worse, Louis realized he didn't care. Lestat was a murderer and a traitor. He was a sociopath without the smallest sliver of remorse. He was a ticking time bomb. Louis should have been fighting him, should have been pushing him away, and running for his life.

Should’ve been screaming for help

Instead, he leaned back into his monster, into this wanted terrorist, let him rut against him, let him bury his nose in his neck, relishing in the erratic little puffs of air caressing his nape.

"I can't do that" he confessed, brokenly, between pants, "I can't stay away from you, I can't let you go…"

Louis could feel the truth in his words. It was something he had wondered about, what with Molloy and Rosh and the fucking FBI hot in his heels, why did Lestat keep coming back to him. Well, now he knew: Lestat was just as doomed as him, had sealed both their fates the night he had chosen to fuck Louis instead of killing him. The night he had singled him out from all of the hostages at the bank, and barked at him in a perfect, fake Australian accent, to get up and come with him.

The scrap of teeth against his skin brought him back to the present, to Lestat's calloused fingers trailing down his stomach, slipping into his dress pants. He closed his hand around Lestat’s wrist in an attempt to halt his hand that felt half-hearted even to him. Lestat simply kicked his knees open, leg between Louis’ to make more room for his hand as he grabbed his cock.

"Is this the secret you were trying to keep from me?" Lestat's smirk was audible in his voice, as his hand began a lazy milking motion "How hard I make you?"

"Lest-"

The flat of Lestat’s knife pressed against Louis’ nipple, a warning, making him gasp.

"Don't ever try to hide from me again" He commanded, "understood?"

Silence was his only answer as Louis remained stubbornly quiet. Lestat sighed,

“Louis, Louis… être un bon garçon” He coaxed, changing strategies, taking his hand out of Louis’ pants, pretending he did not notice the disappointed noise he couldn’t quite conceal. Pressing his pointer and index finger softly to his prisoner’s plump lower lip, Lestat said, “Suck”

There was a second of hesitation before Louis obeyed, the feeble veneer of resistance he had been putting up crumbling completely as he eagerly savored the digits, hungry for the taste of Lestat’s skin.

“There’s my boy” Louis could hear the smile in Lestat’s smug voice, tried to be annoyed by it but found he couldn’t. Not when Lestat was undoing his pants, tugging them and his underwear out of the way as he took his fingers out of Louis’ mouth to bring them down, down and back, palm squeezing at one of Louis’ buttocks before the feeling of wet and cold right against the taut ring of muscle of his rim sent a shiver up and down his half-naked body. Lestat teased at it, circling it with his fingertips, pressing at the sensitive flesh of Louis’ entrance, but never going in, never remaining in the same place enough to bring Louis anything more than the most transpicuous, yet promising, shadow of pleasure.

“Now… shall we try again?” Lestat finally pushed in, making Louis cry out. Pleased at the reaction, he sunk it in deeper, massaging Louis’ sensitive walls on his way in and out again, until he sagged bonelessly into his arms. “That’s it, mon chere, just like that. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you surrender to me?”

He chuckled at Louis’ whine, perfectly aware that, as talented as his fingers were, one alone was not enough to bring him the satisfaction he craved. But that was not his goal tonight. No, tonight, Lestat was out for blood.

"What is it, baby?" He purred, "Do you need something?"

"More" Loouis breathed out, "need more"

He didn’t even think of struggling as Lestat adjusted his grip, blade tucked in flat between his chest and Lestat’s wrist, forearm like a vice across Louis’ torso.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers" the taller man commanded, slipping another digit inside, "and beg"

Bastard, Luis thought, resentfully. Lestat loved pushing his buttons, obliterating his patience, pride, and dignity.

It was liberating.

He started moving his hips, almost losing his balance as the arm supporting him abandoned his chest and Lestat tilted forward to get a clearer view of Louis’ ass, of his small, increasingly desperate thrusts, of his long pale fingers disappearing time and time again inside Louis’ delicious hole.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, and he had seen plenty of obscene things in his life. None of them could compare to his beautiful, perfect Louis.

And Louis, on his part, didn't need to open his eyes to know Lestat was watching attentively, he could feel his ice-blue gaze burn him like a brand. He always watched, with such a wonder in his eyes, a hunger that made it hard to feel self-conscious, the ever-present voice of insecurity at the back of Louis's head, so used to mistrustful or downright scared looks on the street simply because of his height and skin color, instantly silenced by the naked desire in his gaze. Try as he might, he could not deny he had never felt more seen and more wanted in his life, than when he was with Lestat.

And his praising certainly didn't hurt.

"Fuck, so fucking gorgeous, you precious thing… ridding my fingers so pretty…"

"Lestat… please…"

"There he is" He muttered, almost to himself, rewarding Louis by twisting his fingers just right so he could graze at his prostate just right with every stroke, "You beg so nicely, baby boy…"

Oh, it was bad, the way he shivered whenever Lestat called him his. It shouldn't affect him the way it did, Louis shouldn't want it… but he did. And he couldn't hide it from him, his body was a traitor, its reactions impossible to contain.

If Luis had only known the trouble that would get him, he would have tried harder to conceal them.

But Lestat could read his body like a magazine, knew the exact moment when to withdraw his fingers, just a second before he started clenching on them, the precise instant before Louis came, too early for him to tumble over the edge but too late for him to be able to come down.

He knew just how to leave him aching for it.

"I love seeing you like this, mon chere, completely at my mercy. You'd take anything I'd give you, do anything I'd say right now, wouldn't you?"

Louis gulped. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

He felt Lestat’s quiet laugh against his nape.

"Oh yeah," he decided, "you would…"

The room spun and the floor was swept from under Louis's feet, in two movements, Lestat had him sprawled on the couch, head on the pillows, legs dangling from the armrest. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions but Louis had no time to complain as Lesta made quick work of the remaining of Louis’ clothes, his sharp blade ripping easily through the fabric.

"I always dreamed about ripping your clothes off you, back at the bank. All those hours locked together, it was all I could think about" He mustered, soft voice at odds with the almost feral look in his eyes. The sane part of Louis’ brain screamed danger. And it had little to do with the fact that the man hovering above him, caressing his skin with a hunting knife, was a killer. It went well beyond that. This was a different kind of danger, the slope of his cheekbones a different type of treacherous, the taste of his kiss a hazard to his heart, the weight of his body on his a threat to his sanity.

Lestat was wild and unpredictable and entirely too beautiful, the perfect predator, one Louis didn't even want to escape. He was powerless, the mesmerized hare in the maw of the wolfhound.

And he was ready to be eaten alive.

"I wanna do something now, chere, something you will like" He hurried to add at Louis’ alarmed expression: It wasn't like Lestat to give warnings, "but I need you to stay very very still, can you do that for me?"

"I… Lestat, what-"

"Wrong answer, baby" He produced something from his back pocket, Louis’ pleasure-ridden mind too slow to process what he was doing until the plastic zip tie was securing his wrists.

"No rope today?" Louis raised an eyebrow. Lestat smiled all teeth.

"No, not today. Not for this" He kissed Louis then, stealing his breath and halting his thought process, not letting him go until he felt Louis melt into him again, pliant and docile just like he wanted it.

"Now, mon beau, if you bring your hands down" He warned, pointing at where Louis’ hands were laying on the pillow above his head, "if you buck your hips, or try to close your legs, I will tie your ankles too, understood?" Lestat waited until Louis nodded his understanding, blandishing his knife in front of Louis’ face. His blade gleamed as he parted Louis’ knees and folded them back against his chest. Settling between Louis’ legs, he rained chaste, butterfly kisses on his inner thighs, fingertips opening him up further. Louis felt the cold dripping of lube on his rim, and Lestat’s warm fingers spreading it outside and inside too, making sure his inner walls were coated with it. There was so much of it, Louis could smell the scent of its cherry flavor.

"Fuck, look at you, Louinounet, you're soaking wet" Lestat all but buried his face between Louis’ butt cheeks, placing a teasing kitten lick along his crack, and then blowing cool air on it. Louis had to fight the urge to tilt his hips up in demand. Lestat was a cruel man, establishing ridiculous rules and then pushing him any way he could into breaking them.

One of Lestat’s long, dexterous digits started a slow massage to his entrance, deliberate and thorough, relaxing the thigh muscles but not going in.

"Please…"

"Feeling empty, mon chaton?" He mocked, "This pretty hole needs to be filled?"

"Yes, please" Louis begged too far gone to be ashamed.

"Well, you only needed to ask…"

Louis was startled at the unfamiliar feeling of something cold and hard against his rim.

"Shhhhh" Lestat soothed, eyes never leaving the place where he was sinking the handle of his knife inside Louis's tight heat, "stay very still…"

Louis bit his lip, trying to relax further into the couch, letting his legs fall open a little wider for Lestat.

"That's it… such a good boy…" He pushed the handle an inch deeper, a moan escaping Louis’ throat. It felt… soft. Harder and coarser than his secret silicone vibrator, but not unpleasantly so.

Oh, no, it was very much pleasant, he decided, as Lestat started rocking it in and out, burying it a little deeper with every movement, the ridges in the handle stroking his insides.

"Should I make you come like this?" He inquired, never stopping the careful strokes, "Think you can hold still as I make you come on my knife?"

Louis shook your head no, he was having trouble remaining immobile as it was, desperate with the need to move and twist and convulse as he angled the handle to grace that perfect, sweet spot no one else had ever been able to find, yet Lestat had seemed to master from the very beginning.

"No? Need a little help for that?" Lestat’s free hand wrapped once again around Louis's cock, purple and angry and leaking, begging for attention. It was too much, the double assault of the handle of Lestat’s knife penetrating him and his hand jerking him off was a lethal combination, and Louis came with a shout.

"That's it… come for me"

Louis’ orgasm was still crashing over him when he heard the metallic clank of the Ka-Bar being tossed away and felt Lestat sink into him to the hilt in one hard, unforgiving movement. He didn't give Louis time to adjust or come down from his high before he started thrusting hard and fast, loving the resistance he felt from Louis’ body.

"Merde! So tight, clenching around my cock…"

"Les- Lestat…" Louis cried, but Lestat didn't relent, instead covering Louis with his body, trapping him as his hips kept snapping against Louis’ punishingly, bare skin against bare skin, and when had he taken out his t-shirt?

"No, baby, there's no escape" He spoke against Louis’ throat, punctuating his words with a harsh bite, "You're gonna take it… you're gonna take it all"

Louis nodded, even as tears started to leak from his eyes, even as he struggled feebly against Lestat because the truth was he loved it. He love the pressure against his wrists, holding him in place, the bruise of Lestat’s sharp hipbones hitting his inner thighs, he loved the overstimulation as the blond demon extracted every last drop of pleasured pain from his body.

Lesta sneaked a hand between their bodies, right under Louis’ navel.

"Fuck, baby boy" He moaned, "I can feel my cock moving inside you…"

Somewhere in the part of Louis’ brain that was still somewhat capable of thought, he found he was not shocked. He could feel it too, overstretched, like Lestat was breaking him in half.

"Taking me so good, my Louis… you were born for this, born to take my cock so deep"

Louis trashed at his words, feeling another peak starting to build, high, so high he was terrified of the fall.

Because he knew it would shatter him.

Lestat’s hand crept lower, wrapping, unmerciful, at Louis’ over-sensitized cock.

His hips bucked of their own accord, trying to dislodge Lestat, leg instinctively trying to kick him off. Lestat's other hand left his tied hands to press against his throat, warningly.

"You're gonna come for me again, chere. Whether you like it or not."

Louis liked it. Heavens help him, how he liked it.

"And then, when your shaking and screaming my name, screaming for mercy…" His thrusts were speeding up, becoming erratic, his ferric control finally breaking, "I'm going to come inside you… fill you up with my come… until you're dripping with it. Do you know why, mon chere?"

Louis hoped it was a rhetorical question, he was far too delirious, too cock drunk to form words. Lestat licked into his open, slack mouth,

"Because you're mine"

Something inside Louis cracked, the pressure too much for the fault line as he felt it snap, the earthquake shaking him to the very bones. Lestat cursed in French, hips ramming into him once, twice, three times before he buried his cock inside Louis as far as it would go, grunting as he spent himself inside him just as he had promised.

Louis must have blacked out for a minute, because when he came back into, Lestat was on him again, holding Louis’ trembling legs over his shoulders, licking Louis clean, each swipe of his tongue sending aftershocks through his ravaged, aching body.

"Lestat, please," Louis’ voice was wrecked, and he realized he probably had been screaming without noticing, "no more"

For a second, he was afraid Lestat wasn't going to listen, but then he showed mercy, crawling up Louis’ body, even as two of his fingers sunk into him, collecting his own juices, making the ravished man whimper.

"Open up, beautiful" He commanded, tracing Louis's bottom lip with his fingertips. He obeyed, letting Lestat sink his digits inside his mouth, wiping them clean with his tongue, "See how delicious we taste?"

Louis hummed his reply, unable to do much more. Lestat seemed pleased enough with it anyway, if the way he gathered him in his arms, cradling him into his chest was anything to go by. They remained like that for a bit, catching their breaths, letting heartbeats return to normal, until Lestat sighed, depositing Louis back on the pillows of his couch as he disappeared inside the apartment, Louis’ eyes gazing appreciatively at the way his back muscles shifted and rippled as he walked.

Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the stiffness of having his hands stretched above his head for so long. There was a forgotten water bottle on the coffee table that Louis managed to uncap with some effort to take a few gulps as Lestat returned holding a wet towel and what Louis expected to be his bathrobe but frowned as he realized it was a small pile of clothes.

He offered his tied hands to Lestat so he could cut the zip, but the blond ignored him, focusing instead on cleaning him up with soft, careful touches.

"What's that for?" the brunet asked, gesturing at the clothes, breaking the silence and the tension that seemed to had fallen between them. There was a shift in Lestat, a squaring of his shoulders, a change in demeanor.

Some door shut behind his eyes.

"You were right" He declared, kneeling in front of Louis, cold grey eyes staring into warm brown, "I can't keep doing this, sooner or later someone, probably the police, is going to notice…"

And unleash hell on both their heads. Louis knew this, knew whatever… this was with Lestat had to come to an end at some point.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear it.

"I have a way out of the country, of course" He went on, “a fat bank account offshore, a nice beach house, the works. Everything is ready…"

"Then why didn't you leave?" Louis prodded

It was reaching, pathetically grasping at straws, he was aware of that. But he had to know, if Lestat felt anything about him, whatever that might be, he needed to hear him say it. He had ruined himself, time and time again, slept with a criminal, with the man that had torn his and twenty other people’s lives apart. If this was the last time Louis saw him, he needed him to say it.

"Because I wanted to win" He replied, simply, "I want it all. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want it all: I want the money and I want the boy"

Louis stared, taken aback. That certainly wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"What do you mean, Lestat?" Louis held his breath, having a feeling he already knew.

"I want you to come with me, Louis De Pointe Du Lac"

He wanted to.

He wanted to laugh in relief, he wanted to cry, he wanted to crush his lips to Lestat’s, cause this was so much more than he had ever dared to hope. He wanted to say yes, let Lestat sweep him off his feet, and run away with him into the sunset. He wanted to.

He couldn't.

Louis thought of Grace, penniless and pregnant with twins. He thought of Paul, locked up inside that gloomy, depressive building, waiting for his daily visits, their supervised walks the only time he was allowed outside. He thought of Lily, his devoted girlfriend, always welcoming him with a kind word and an open ear and a warm meal at the end of his eternal shifts.

He started shaking his head,

"I can't, Lestat. Grace and Paul… they're my siblings, the only family I have left. I am the only family they have left. I can't do that to them" He knew better by then than mentioning Lily, "I won't do that to them"

Lestat's hand came up to cup his face, fingertips brushing his jaw. Foolishly, Louis leaned into his touch.

"Louis, my love…" His grip turned iron-like, forcing Louis’ head in place, "I wasn't asking" He sneered, his other hand, the one he had kept carefully out of sight without Louis even noticing, coming up, striking his neck, quick as a rattlesnake. Louis felt the sting of the needle, understanding downing on him way too late.

Bastard.

Lestat's manic grin was the last thing Louis saw before the world faded to black.

#loustat #lestat de lioncourt x louis de pointe du lac #fanfiction #human au #criminal lestat #smut #dead dove do not eat #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022 #sam reid #jacob anderson

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