IC contact

[stabilimentum]

[A smooth, sedulous voice answers:]

You have reached Claude Faustus, butler to the Earl Alois Trancy. How may I be of service?

Comments

[faking]

[Right now, it's more difficult to breathe, but that feels nice. Alois doesn't know why the muscles in his lower back pinch when Claude's hands slide up, like they're trying to draw his fingers back, but it makes Alois shiver. Everything about Claude makes his spine want to move, though— his fingers, his eyes. Right now, Alois feels so wanted. He feels like he's dominating desire; like he's been bathed in red wine, ready to be tasted. Something inside of him recoils - it's that human instinct, the need to get away from what will devour him. That makes it more exciting, though. He tells himself he'll never move from this spot, atop Claude, hearing what he's always wanted to. His thighs shift eagerly; his hands search for Claude's clavicle.

Claude's words slip right inside. Alois chews on his own lower lip and nods a little. He is generous, right? He has Claude in himself, right? And Claude wants to serve him, so Alois should go ahead and tell him what to do. It isn't like livestock, says his own need to believe this. It's like asking something from a beehive full of sweets. Alois just wants that honey.]

Look at me.

[His blush seems angry. He can't really help that.]

I want you to look at me, Claude. To see me—

[Because he remembers the time that Claude and him moved against one another, minimal layers in between, Alois with his back against the bed and his hands scrabbling, and he'd fluttered his eyelashes open to look up at Claude's face, to meet eyes for one really warm moment - and he knew right then that Claude didn't see him at all.

He'd pushed Claude away and gone to bed early.]

Would you do that?

[He's trying to crush the other requests that would go along with it.]