So it took a little while, but we're getting there! Hopefully Valentine's weekend you'll put aside your friends, family, and lovers to come write about Blackwood and Coward! xD
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(So are we trying to stick to 100 word drabbles, or just any form of commentfic? Also idk if we are posting in reply to this post or another, but hey, it's technically Friday so I wanted to help start things with a bang?)
He thinks - he's thought, about this, for so long - for no more than a moment, afraid the moment will pass, or his nerves will fail him, before he leans in those final few inches separating them. That slight, small space that appeared when Blackwood leaned over his shoulder to glance at the dusty pages just as Coward turned his head, unthinking, unaware of how close Blackwood had come, and his mind emptied of everything but the desperate, eager whisper that it couldn't be an accident, that closeness. So he tilts his head up, closes his eyes, and waits.
Praemonstrator or teacher, the Imperator or governor, and the Cancellarius or record keeper.Blackwood enunciates the words over Coward's shoulder, into the blushing shell of his ear
( ... )
Coward knows it's crass, depraved, sickening. He sickens himself sometimes just thinking about it. When it's happening, when he's with Henry there is only pleasure. Coward feels complete. But without Henry, Coward only feels aching emptiness. There's guilt too, of course, that comes with how much he craves Blackwood.
And he does crave.
When Henry asks, Coward begs for it. He begs for it even when Henry doesn't ask. All he can think of is the feel of Henry's cock, the taste of it, the heft of it in his hand, or his mouth. He had heard the phrase 'gagging for it' but he never understood until Henry.
(I'm thinking we should just do any size comment!fic to give people more options, if they want to stick to 100 words that's cool too)How could Coward be so dismissive? Blackwood clutched the missive in his hand that had arrived less than an hour ago saying Coward was ill and couldn't attend their meeting of the order. He'd been perfectly well yesterday. If Lord Coward believed he could shirk his commitment to the order then he would soon find himself banned from half the gentlemen's clubs in London. He was shown into a handsome sitting room to wait while the butler fetched Coward. No doubt he'd been in his library congratulating himself on his laziness. Blackwood heard Coward shuffling down the hall before he entered the room, so his entrances wasn't a surprise, but his countenance was
( ... )
Blackwood could tell from the moment he met Coward. Could tell that Coward enjoyed the company of men, whether Coward had discovered that yet or not.
It didn't take long for him to make Coward start considering him. To make Coward begin to fall in love with him. The timing had to be exactly right for his plan to work. Blackwood managed to trade a few kisses with Coward, managed to draw him out before it happened. He hoped Coward wouldn't be frightened away.
Blackwood orchestrated the discovery of one of their peers. Lord Thackery was caught in bed with a young man, someone from the lower classes. He was taken out of his home in shackles and pictures were published in every paper. The story was inescapable. It was scandalous and considered disgusting.
Coward went to Blackwood, shaking, pale. He looked sickened.
"Why did you make me realize this. Why did you unlock this in me?" Coward looked betrayed, but Blackwood could see that the anger was not truly directed at him.
Their first true meeting (discounting, naturally, the expected and occasional sighting at the upper House) occurs on the particularly foggy evening the Lady Overstone has arranged one of her famous formal dinners on behalf of the Duke of Beaufort's recent arrival into London
( ... )
Most of those who soul-bond are of the lower classes. They have the freedom and desire to find their other half. Sometimes Blackwood envies them. Having just one person to trust, one person who would stand by his side... it's impossible enough to remain a dream
( ... )
Coward is a lovely bedpartner; attractive, intelligent, skillful, and willing. He graces Blackwood's bed, and Blackwood makes a point of letting him know that he does indeed consider it an honor to have Coward's attention. Coward blushes at that, always, but his sly, pleased glance tells Blackwood more important things. Things that he holds close to his heart, hidden, where Coward cannot see them
( ... )
In most things, Coward cedes control. Or rather, he voices no objection when Blackwood simply assumes his is the deciding voice, and thus is seldom faced with the possibility of being forced to give way. For the most part, this does not bother him, for he is well aware that, should push come to shove, he is confident in knowing exactly who will win.
There are certain areas, however, where Blackwood is agreeable - nay, say willing - to offer up his compliance. They are few and they are generally private moments, hidden away from any judging, considering eyes, but they do exist, and Coward has become quite the expert at discovering them, cataloging their intricacies
( ... )
Tonight Coward mentions Blackwood at the family table, a last resort for want of anything else to fill the somber silence. He can hardly abide these grim repasts since his sister was married off and his father...well. No need to dwell on that. He has his duty here at any rate.
When he utters the name, his mother gives him the most peculiar look. Peculiar perhaps mostly for its sudden sharpness. Usually there is a milky aspect to her gaze, her thoughts preoccupied with times long past, some summer when she could still wear blue satin.
"Oh what a foolish man," she says.
It takes Coward an embarrassingly long moment to realize that she must be talking about Henry Blackwood's father, whose recent, mysterious passing has been the occasion for his sons return to England from the far East. Of course, it makes sense. Both his father and his mother would have been members of the Order together during the late Lord Blackwood's time
( ... )
Coward is shown down a bleak hallway and into a room with a single table. He supposes this is a perk of being wealthy. Most people who come to visit a madhouse are forced to stand outside a cell and converse where everyone can see. Or so he's heard
( ... )
Comments 13
He thinks - he's thought, about this, for so long - for no more than a moment, afraid the moment will pass, or his nerves will fail him, before he leans in those final few inches separating them. That slight, small space that appeared when Blackwood leaned over his shoulder to glance at the dusty pages just as Coward turned his head, unthinking, unaware of how close Blackwood had come, and his mind emptied of everything but the desperate, eager whisper that it couldn't be an accident, that closeness. So he tilts his head up, closes his eyes, and waits.
And waits.
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And he does crave.
When Henry asks, Coward begs for it. He begs for it even when Henry doesn't ask. All he can think of is the feel of Henry's cock, the taste of it, the heft of it in his hand, or his mouth. He had heard the phrase 'gagging for it' but he never understood until Henry.
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It didn't take long for him to make Coward start considering him. To make Coward begin to fall in love with him. The timing had to be exactly right for his plan to work. Blackwood managed to trade a few kisses with Coward, managed to draw him out before it happened. He hoped Coward wouldn't be frightened away.
Blackwood orchestrated the discovery of one of their peers. Lord Thackery was caught in bed with a young man, someone from the lower classes. He was taken out of his home in shackles and pictures were published in every paper. The story was inescapable. It was scandalous and considered disgusting.
Coward went to Blackwood, shaking, pale. He looked sickened.
"Why did you make me realize this. Why did you unlock this in me?" Coward looked betrayed, but Blackwood could see that the anger was not truly directed at him.
Coward would be his in time.
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There are certain areas, however, where Blackwood is agreeable - nay, say willing - to offer up his compliance. They are few and they are generally private moments, hidden away from any judging, considering eyes, but they do exist, and Coward has become quite the expert at discovering them, cataloging their intricacies ( ... )
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When he utters the name, his mother gives him the most peculiar look. Peculiar perhaps mostly for its sudden sharpness. Usually there is a milky aspect to her gaze, her thoughts preoccupied with times long past, some summer when she could still wear blue satin.
"Oh what a foolish man," she says.
It takes Coward an embarrassingly long moment to realize that she must be talking about Henry Blackwood's father, whose recent, mysterious passing has been the occasion for his sons return to England from the far East. Of course, it makes sense. Both his father and his mother would have been members of the Order together during the late Lord Blackwood's time ( ... )
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