One press of hips is invitation enough for Estinien. Paired with a back arching touch, it turns his brain off completely. An animal sort of want bubbles up out of him and, with a hum low in his throat, he near lunges into Aymeric's embrace. In the midst of a firm kiss, he paws at Aymeric's thighs and presses forward, steering him blindly into the nearest solid thing he can find.
The bookshelf rattles when he presses Aymeric's shoulders against it, and again when uses it for leverage to lift Aymeric up and into his arms by the legs, pulling their hips together. Between presses of lips, he opens his eyes, has the wherewithal to check that he hasn't caused Aymeric harm in his enthusiasm, "Didn't knock your head, did I?"
Aymeric just stumbles back, his grip tightening just a touch to keep himself from falling over - though he realises he's in less danger of that when his back collides with the bookshelf. It hurts a little, but he dwells on it for barely a moment before Estinien is lifting him off the ground and he's more focused on clinging to the other man and kissing him senseless.
It's possible he's the one being kissed senseless, though, because he certainly feels like he might have hit his head when Estinien asks. At least, he's sort of dazed and he's having trouble thinking coherently. Not that he minds.
"No." He returns breathlessly "I'm fine. Shut up and kiss me again."
It's safe to say that Aymeric de Borel has officially lost whatever remained of his composure.
Aymeric's blunt demand goads a chuckle out of Estinien, but he is at least kind enough to not leave him waiting, wanting long. He crashes against him again, electric, and Estinien stumbles them both toward the bed, nearly knocking over a side table along the way in his urgency.
Were he the sort of man to have a mind for anything but exactly the thing he wants in the moment, Estinien might've made note of the trinkets decorating Aymerics room -- beats in the story of his life. He might've observed portraits or book titles or personal effects tucked away around the room, anything that might give better insight into who Ser Aymeric is.
But... he doesn't. All that matters is the warm body in his arms, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth. The nearest thing he has to an observation is the moment his knees hit Aymeric's bed. He glances up, making sure he isn't about to dump the both of them on the floor, and notices that Aymeric's bedding is blue. Not the same color as his eyes -- he's not sure any weaver could recreate such a hue -- but, he does wonder, idly, as they collapse into thick, downy blankets, whether Aymeric had glimpsed color already. Whether it matters.
It's probably for the best if he had, Estinien thinks as he begins to fumble with the buttons securing Aymeric's trousers. Better if this is just a distraction... for the both of them.
Estinien isn't the first person Aymeric has taken to bed, but he's never felt this sense of urgency, of desperation. He's never been so lost to it before, so hungry.
This is more than a distraction for him, more than just delayed gratification, he wants more, will want more, and he already knows it. He also already knows that's probably a dangerous thing to want, that Estinien may not feel the same. Luckily, it's difficult for him to dwell on that, to dwell on anything but the soft blankets beneath him and Estinien's hands so achingly close to where he wants them to be as the other man works to get his trousers off.
He'll live in this perfect moment, everything else can wait.
~~
Later, though, when their desires are satiated and Aymeric lounges, boneless and contented and half asleep, arms still wound around Estinien like he might be able to keep him there if he only doesn't let go, he does let his mind wander a little. Lets himself hope that this isn't the end, that he might still have more of this, because now that he has it he isn't sure he can let it go.
Drowsy and undone, Estinien thinks of little but the steady rhythm of Aymeric's breathing, of being wrapped up in him. Fingers of one hand still loosely tangled in his raven hair, he turns his head, just enough to surreptitiously look Aymeric over. Fury, all about him is fascinating and beautiful, still.
The lightning that arcs between them is utterly undiminished, and Estinien cannot decide if that is a problem.
It would be so impossibly easy to fall into this, into Aymeric, a routine, a life. That's what it is to be soulmates, isn't it? Estinien considers this in earnest for perhaps the first time, staring at Aymeric's sweet smile as he grasps the thought instead of brushing it aside. He needn't think it over long, though. In truth, it cannot matter. Whatever the two of them might be, dalliance or something deeper, he still must see Nidhogg slain, the war ended, his family avenged. It is a destiny he has no plans of surviving, and so all else must necessarily wait.
Still, it feels as though he and Aymeric are bound up now, past a simple tangle of limbs, a deeper weave. And that is... concerning, dangerous. His distance from aught else had been a way to protect himself and others, and now he finds that he is too close to one person - one person he does not wish to harm, and yet will, by necessity.
Aymeric's grip tightens just a little and a grumbling noise of protest escapes him before he quite comes to his senses and snap out of his easy doze. There's a flicker of something like sheepishness in his expression as he fully opens his eyes and loosens his arms again to allow Estinien to move if he wishes.
"You needn't leave, if you have no pressing business elsewhere," he offers, tone casual but the tiniest hint of pleading sneaking into his expression "the bed is more than comfortable enough for two..."
He wants to beg, but his hard-won composure holds him back from embarrassing himself quite so badly, even as he worries that if Estinien leaves he'll never come back. He's not the type of person you can hold onto that tightly, though, Aymeric can see that already, he has to be allowed to return on his own terms...
Aymeric would just really like to enjoy this a little bit longer before he has to wait for that return.
For a few seconds, leaving the warmth of this bed, of Aymeric's arms, is utterly unthinkable. Why would he be anywhere else? There is aught on the star worth seeing, worth doing, more than this - cool eyes staring up at him sleepily, warm arms wreathing his torso. And so, he lingers a moment more, caught in the feeling, the daydream of being the sort of person who can forge a lasting bond, who might see a future in finally seeing color.
He shifts, pressing his face, briefly, into Aymeric's hair, leaving a kiss on his crown.
"There is pressing business," he says, certain-sounding enough that it feels less like he is trying to lie. Like the sudden patter of his heart is anything but. He should say no more. Leave it at that. No room to stumble further down this precarious path, not when he must focus himself so wholly elsewhere.
Except... he can't. Much as he should, he cannot burn this bridge.
"Call on me, should you need me 'fore I find you next."
Because he knows, as much as he shouldn't, he will be back to look into those eyes, to wind himself into those arms. To feel comfort.
There's something about the way Estinien lingers, about the press of lips to his hair, that soothes the growing uncertainty in Aymeric's mind. That is not the manner of a man who has had his satisfaction and lost interest, surely.
All the same, he finds it doubtful that Estinien speaks truthfully, for what pressing business could call him away that he hadn't already accounted for? He doesn't call him on it, though, just allows him his excuses and draws away, untangling himself further from Estinien lest he give into temptation to hold fast to him again.
He smiles, warm and just faintly relieved.
"I will." He says easily, a whisper of mischief touching his smile "Though our competition is at an end, I have no desire to be done with you, Estinien Varlineau."
Perhaps he should have played it more casually, he doesn't want to scare him away and yet... and yet Estinien has to know that the chase isn't over, that Aymeric will continue to pursue him. He'll let him loose, but he doesn't think he'll ever be able to quite let him go entirely, not now he's had this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
just letting them have some fun
The bookshelf rattles when he presses Aymeric's shoulders against it, and again when uses it for leverage to lift Aymeric up and into his arms by the legs, pulling their hips together. Between presses of lips, he opens his eyes, has the wherewithal to check that he hasn't caused Aymeric harm in his enthusiasm, "Didn't knock your head, did I?"
Re: just letting them have some fun
Aymeric just stumbles back, his grip tightening just a touch to keep himself from falling over - though he realises he's in less danger of that when his back collides with the bookshelf. It hurts a little, but he dwells on it for barely a moment before Estinien is lifting him off the ground and he's more focused on clinging to the other man and kissing him senseless.
It's possible he's the one being kissed senseless, though, because he certainly feels like he might have hit his head when Estinien asks. At least, he's sort of dazed and he's having trouble thinking coherently. Not that he minds.
"No." He returns breathlessly "I'm fine. Shut up and kiss me again."
It's safe to say that Aymeric de Borel has officially lost whatever remained of his composure.
probably ftb after this lmaooo sob sorry!!!
Were he the sort of man to have a mind for anything but exactly the thing he wants in the moment, Estinien might've made note of the trinkets decorating Aymerics room -- beats in the story of his life. He might've observed portraits or book titles or personal effects tucked away around the room, anything that might give better insight into who Ser Aymeric is.
But... he doesn't. All that matters is the warm body in his arms, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth. The nearest thing he has to an observation is the moment his knees hit Aymeric's bed. He glances up, making sure he isn't about to dump the both of them on the floor, and notices that Aymeric's bedding is blue. Not the same color as his eyes -- he's not sure any weaver could recreate such a hue -- but, he does wonder, idly, as they collapse into thick, downy blankets, whether Aymeric had glimpsed color already. Whether it matters.
It's probably for the best if he had, Estinien thinks as he begins to fumble with the buttons securing Aymeric's trousers. Better if this is just a distraction... for the both of them.
<3
Estinien isn't the first person Aymeric has taken to bed, but he's never felt this sense of urgency, of desperation. He's never been so lost to it before, so hungry.
This is more than a distraction for him, more than just delayed gratification, he wants more, will want more, and he already knows it. He also already knows that's probably a dangerous thing to want, that Estinien may not feel the same. Luckily, it's difficult for him to dwell on that, to dwell on anything but the soft blankets beneath him and Estinien's hands so achingly close to where he wants them to be as the other man works to get his trousers off.
He'll live in this perfect moment, everything else can wait.
~~
Later, though, when their desires are satiated and Aymeric lounges, boneless and contented and half asleep, arms still wound around Estinien like he might be able to keep him there if he only doesn't let go, he does let his mind wander a little. Lets himself hope that this isn't the end, that he might still have more of this, because now that he has it he isn't sure he can let it go.
no subject
The lightning that arcs between them is utterly undiminished, and Estinien cannot decide if that is a problem.
It would be so impossibly easy to fall into this, into Aymeric, a routine, a life. That's what it is to be soulmates, isn't it? Estinien considers this in earnest for perhaps the first time, staring at Aymeric's sweet smile as he grasps the thought instead of brushing it aside. He needn't think it over long, though. In truth, it cannot matter. Whatever the two of them might be, dalliance or something deeper, he still must see Nidhogg slain, the war ended, his family avenged. It is a destiny he has no plans of surviving, and so all else must necessarily wait.
Still, it feels as though he and Aymeric are bound up now, past a simple tangle of limbs, a deeper weave. And that is... concerning, dangerous. His distance from aught else had been a way to protect himself and others, and now he finds that he is too close to one person - one person he does not wish to harm, and yet will, by necessity.
He exhales softly, and moves, drawing away.
no subject
Aymeric's grip tightens just a little and a grumbling noise of protest escapes him before he quite comes to his senses and snap out of his easy doze. There's a flicker of something like sheepishness in his expression as he fully opens his eyes and loosens his arms again to allow Estinien to move if he wishes.
"You needn't leave, if you have no pressing business elsewhere," he offers, tone casual but the tiniest hint of pleading sneaking into his expression "the bed is more than comfortable enough for two..."
He wants to beg, but his hard-won composure holds him back from embarrassing himself quite so badly, even as he worries that if Estinien leaves he'll never come back. He's not the type of person you can hold onto that tightly, though, Aymeric can see that already, he has to be allowed to return on his own terms...
Aymeric would just really like to enjoy this a little bit longer before he has to wait for that return.
no subject
He shifts, pressing his face, briefly, into Aymeric's hair, leaving a kiss on his crown.
"There is pressing business," he says, certain-sounding enough that it feels less like he is trying to lie. Like the sudden patter of his heart is anything but. He should say no more. Leave it at that. No room to stumble further down this precarious path, not when he must focus himself so wholly elsewhere.
Except... he can't. Much as he should, he cannot burn this bridge.
"Call on me, should you need me 'fore I find you next."
Because he knows, as much as he shouldn't, he will be back to look into those eyes, to wind himself into those arms. To feel comfort.
no subject
There's something about the way Estinien lingers, about the press of lips to his hair, that soothes the growing uncertainty in Aymeric's mind. That is not the manner of a man who has had his satisfaction and lost interest, surely.
All the same, he finds it doubtful that Estinien speaks truthfully, for what pressing business could call him away that he hadn't already accounted for? He doesn't call him on it, though, just allows him his excuses and draws away, untangling himself further from Estinien lest he give into temptation to hold fast to him again.
He smiles, warm and just faintly relieved.
"I will." He says easily, a whisper of mischief touching his smile "Though our competition is at an end, I have no desire to be done with you, Estinien Varlineau."
Perhaps he should have played it more casually, he doesn't want to scare him away and yet... and yet Estinien has to know that the chase isn't over, that Aymeric will continue to pursue him. He'll let him loose, but he doesn't think he'll ever be able to quite let him go entirely, not now he's had this.