le loup et le lapin (2)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 09:04:56 UTC
Whenever he was in London, he stopped at Arthur's house. Arthur had distantly been a friend of the Bonnefoy family, and every time they came near each other they would fight, like sparks from two opposing pieces of flint
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (3)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 09:14:31 UTC
"Lovely playing," he said. Though to be fair, the melody was so simple, a child could have played it. The boy looked up, started, and flushed. His hands fell to the keys, a discordant note played.
"I-I'm sorry, Master Kirkland hasn't informed me that there was to be company," he said. His voice was so quiet that Francis had to strain to hear it. He heard the faintest trace of an accent. French? "I-I was not prepared...I apologize..."
"I didn't know the old bastard had a son. He's been holding out on me," Francis said.
He flushed. "Oh....no. I'm...a guest."
"I see. I'm also a guest. An old friend, if you will. Enchanté."
"Yes, pleased to meet you..." The boy murmured.
Francis slide beside him at the seat of the pianoforte. "What am I to call you? I could give you a few names of my own if you prefer. Like mon amour.The boy looked perplexed for a moment, and even sad. "You don't remember
( ... )
"See, Arthur? Matthieu thinks we should kiss and make up. You wouldn't want to disappoint him, would you?"
Matthieu paled. "I-"
"Well I think you should go to hell!" Arthur bellowed.
"Ah, just like old times," Francis said.
"Please don't fight," Matthieu pleaded, looking from one to the other.
Francis took Matthieu's hands in his, which elicited an endearing blush.
"Matthieu, mon cher, it is friendly sparring. Nothing to be worried about. We probably won't even try and kill each other this time," Francis said
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (5)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 09:56:42 UTC
Living with nobles had given him a taste for a life he couldn't afford. He was in a state of constant displeasure in the dirty, small, barely furnished dwellings that made up his class
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (6)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 10:26:24 UTC
tu es beau: you're beautiful (as said to a male.) -
*
He helped Matthieu out of his clothes, the boy apologizing all the time. Matthieu was bulkier than he would have expected, with wide, strong shoulders, and a body which seemed at odds with his sickly, frail nature.
"Tu es beau," he murmured.
Mattheiu blushed, a deep red, much like the roses he so loved.
He helped Matthieu into bed, despite protests. In his mind he was most uncertainly undressing him, but for the present, he was a gentleman.
"You seem awful prone to independence for a rich boy," he teased.
"I don't like to burden people unnecessarily," Matthieu said.
"It's no burden," Francis said. "I've called the maid for a cold compress."
"I-I'm sorry to be such trouble..."
"You're no trouble, petit. More delicate than I thought, but no burden."
"You don't have to lie to save my feelings, Mon- Mister Francis."
"And you don't have to lie about pretending to be English. Were you about to call me monsieur again? Or perhaps mon amourMatthieu flushed. "I-I
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (7)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 10:57:02 UTC
He watched Matthieu as he slept. The sadness did not seem to disperse, even when he slept. He never looked truly peaceful, only melancholy in a quieter state. He thought of touching him - and to his surprise, not even in a lustful manner. He did not know how much time passed, only that it was some time, and all of it had been spent in thoughts that shifted from what he would do in the dirty city of London, and then back to Matthieu again.
Matthieu began to stir. For a moment, Francis thought he might wake, but instead he began murmuring something.
"Non....non.... S'il vous plaît......."
Whatever he was saying became indiscernible. He rocked from side to side, his hands clinging to the bedsheet. Francis reached out to steady him, and Matthieu failed his arms, trying to fight against whatever this dream-vision held.
"Maman!" He cried. He reached out to nothing, to empty air. Francis took him in his arms
( ... )
..is too speechless to faun, but she would if she could. Seriously, this is amazing, really, really amazing. Francis is so...Francis-y and moe Matthew is my secret pleasure and just wow. Both their backgrounds, or rather, Francis' background and the one that is implied for Matthew, are both so heartbreaking. Seeing how they mesh will be extremely interesting, I dare say.
le loup et le lapin (8)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 07:03:57 UTC
Ignore the ones above, I fudged up something and am just waiting for mods to delete em. Also above? Should be 'heart', not 'hears'. Sorry, my keyboard sticks like crazy ever since it dropped. -
*
As predicted, Arthur was angry. At some point, he must have drank some wine to calm his nerves because he was also drunk. He did not even bother to put aside his hat and coat before storming in, looking with almost an inhuman fury. Upon seeing Francis seated beside Matthieu at the pianoforte, his expression only darkened more.
"What the hell are you doing here!" He bellowed.
"The heat got to him, and I took him home," Francis remarked calmly. He stopped, his fingers at the keys of the pianoforte.
"Oh, I bet that wasn't all you did you dirty, perverted son of a whore!"
Matthieu looked discontent. He had already looked pale on awakening, but now he looked sallow and drawn. He wrung his hands in his lap, looking from one to the other.
"Let us take our sparring elsewhere, d'accord? Matthieu should not witness our battles, lest they get
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (9)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 11:09:15 UTC
He knocked at the door. No answer. He opened it, and Matthieu was flying with his face into the pillows. For a moment, he thought Matthieu might be crying, but when he came up, he was dry eyed. He searched out for his lunettes, a guarded expression on his face
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (10)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 11:12:27 UTC
*
Francis drifted for the next few days. He knew his money was dwindling, but he felt remarkably listless. Exiled from his home, in a smokey, boring place such as London without the wonders and artistic nature of his beloved Paris, he was in poor spirits. Meeting with Anglerre - and Matthieu - had lifted his spirits momentarily, but it didn't distract him from the fact that in a few weeks he wouldn't have a coin to his name and would be kicked to join the street urchins.
Maybe he could charm his way into a wealthy heiress' heart....or simply her bed. He could not see himself a menial worker here, and neither his revolutionary nor ties to nobility, despised as it was, would do any good. Arthur didn't look like he'd be doing anything to help, except perhaps to give him enough rope to hang himself with
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (11)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 11:17:45 UTC
*
George proved worth the coins he had been given quickly. He'd do his job quickly, hungrily looking for more coins. He'd all but camp out at the door of Francis' room, stopping anyone who didn't meet the inspection of "Mister Bonnifoi"On the first week since he'd landed and met Arthur and Matthieu, he had risen late, a little hungover, and desultory. There certainly was work in London, it just happened to be dirty, smelly and altogether tedious. The thought of splitting his soft hands carrying crates made his nose turn in disgust
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (12)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 11:22:34 UTC
When Matthieu left, two of the men watched him go. They did it slyly, like any person who wasn't of the nobles and couldn't afford to flaunt it where it couldn't be paid away with gold and influence. He felt something clench deep inside him. He couldn't help thinking: If they ever try to hurt him, I'd kill them.
He'd killed men before. With knives to the throat over a gambling debt, or lead them to the guillotine which in itself, was as good as drawing the blade across their throats himself. He wouldn't hesitate in a moment. To make his point, he draped his arm over Matthieu's shoulder's and leaned to whisper something in his ear. He was rewarded with a lovely rosy blush from Matthieu, and a sharp pointed look back towards the possible usurpers got his meaning across.
Seeing Matthieu lifted his spirits enough to inquire of the lady of the house as to whether he might be of assistance. She smiled back with an enigmatic expression and said she would let him know if he was needed. Should that fail, he could try his luck with
( ... )
le loup et le lapin (13)
anonymous
September 8 2010, 11:25:03 UTC
It had been far too long since he'd slept with a boy. He'd had a few of the better looking whores - London women were not quite to his liking, like everything else from this accursed place. He did not know the streets in this sooty town, but a few discreet inquiries lead him down different streets.
The boy was blond and a bit thin, with a wry smile and a coy manner. He aped innocence, but with such a coquettish edge that only a complete dullard would miss its falsity. He was dressed better than the street urchins, with the styles of the day: white shirt and breeches, and the marks left by the last patron on his neck, as telling as a brand. Neither bothered with names as he pressed the coin into the boy's fingers. The boy licked the coin and stuck it in a pocket hidden in his shirt.
His eyes were blue, not violet, and his hair not the color of honey, of ripened fields of wheat, but he would do for the night.
They went through the halls, amidst laughter of drunken men and whores, the sounds of l'amour in beds, against walls and
( ... )
Reply
Reply
"I-I'm sorry, Master Kirkland hasn't informed me that there was to be company," he said. His voice was so quiet that Francis had to strain to hear it. He heard the faintest trace of an accent. French? "I-I was not prepared...I apologize..."
"I didn't know the old bastard had a son. He's been holding out on me," Francis said.
He flushed. "Oh....no. I'm...a guest."
"I see. I'm also a guest. An old friend, if you will. Enchanté."
"Yes, pleased to meet you..." The boy murmured.
Francis slide beside him at the seat of the pianoforte. "What am I to call you? I could give you a few names of my own if you prefer. Like mon amour.The boy looked perplexed for a moment, and even sad. "You don't remember ( ... )
Reply
"See, Arthur? Matthieu thinks we should kiss and make up. You wouldn't want to disappoint him, would you?"
Matthieu paled. "I-"
"Well I think you should go to hell!" Arthur bellowed.
"Ah, just like old times," Francis said.
"Please don't fight," Matthieu pleaded, looking from one to the other.
Francis took Matthieu's hands in his, which elicited an endearing blush.
"Matthieu, mon cher, it is friendly sparring. Nothing to be worried about. We probably won't even try and kill each other this time," Francis said ( ... )
Reply
Reply
-
*
He helped Matthieu out of his clothes, the boy apologizing all the time. Matthieu was bulkier than he would have expected, with wide, strong shoulders, and a body which seemed at odds with his sickly, frail nature.
"Tu es beau," he murmured.
Mattheiu blushed, a deep red, much like the roses he so loved.
He helped Matthieu into bed, despite protests. In his mind he was most uncertainly undressing him, but for the present, he was a gentleman.
"You seem awful prone to independence for a rich boy," he teased.
"I don't like to burden people unnecessarily," Matthieu said.
"It's no burden," Francis said. "I've called the maid for a cold compress."
"I-I'm sorry to be such trouble..."
"You're no trouble, petit. More delicate than I thought, but no burden."
"You don't have to lie to save my feelings, Mon- Mister Francis."
"And you don't have to lie about pretending to be English. Were you about to call me monsieur again? Or perhaps mon amourMatthieu flushed. "I-I ( ... )
Reply
Matthieu began to stir. For a moment, Francis thought he might wake, but instead he began murmuring something.
"Non....non.... S'il vous plaît......."
Whatever he was saying became indiscernible. He rocked from side to side, his hands clinging to the bedsheet. Francis reached out to steady him, and Matthieu failed his arms, trying to fight against whatever this dream-vision held.
"Maman!" He cried. He reached out to nothing, to empty air. Francis took him in his arms ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
-
*
As predicted, Arthur was angry. At some point, he must have drank some wine to calm his nerves because he was also drunk. He did not even bother to put aside his hat and coat before storming in, looking with almost an inhuman fury. Upon seeing Francis seated beside Matthieu at the pianoforte, his expression only darkened more.
"What the hell are you doing here!" He bellowed.
"The heat got to him, and I took him home," Francis remarked calmly. He stopped, his fingers at the keys of the pianoforte.
"Oh, I bet that wasn't all you did you dirty, perverted son of a whore!"
Matthieu looked discontent. He had already looked pale on awakening, but now he looked sallow and drawn. He wrung his hands in his lap, looking from one to the other.
"Let us take our sparring elsewhere, d'accord? Matthieu should not witness our battles, lest they get ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Francis drifted for the next few days. He knew his money was dwindling, but he felt remarkably listless. Exiled from his home, in a smokey, boring place such as London without the wonders and artistic nature of his beloved Paris, he was in poor spirits. Meeting with Anglerre - and Matthieu - had lifted his spirits momentarily, but it didn't distract him from the fact that in a few weeks he wouldn't have a coin to his name and would be kicked to join the street urchins.
Maybe he could charm his way into a wealthy heiress' heart....or simply her bed. He could not see himself a menial worker here, and neither his revolutionary nor ties to nobility, despised as it was, would do any good. Arthur didn't look like he'd be doing anything to help, except perhaps to give him enough rope to hang himself with ( ... )
Reply
George proved worth the coins he had been given quickly. He'd do his job quickly, hungrily looking for more coins. He'd all but camp out at the door of Francis' room, stopping anyone who didn't meet the inspection of "Mister Bonnifoi"On the first week since he'd landed and met Arthur and Matthieu, he had risen late, a little hungover, and desultory. There certainly was work in London, it just happened to be dirty, smelly and altogether tedious. The thought of splitting his soft hands carrying crates made his nose turn in disgust ( ... )
Reply
He'd killed men before. With knives to the throat over a gambling debt, or lead them to the guillotine which in itself, was as good as drawing the blade across their throats himself. He wouldn't hesitate in a moment. To make his point, he draped his arm over Matthieu's shoulder's and leaned to whisper something in his ear. He was rewarded with a lovely rosy blush from Matthieu, and a sharp pointed look back towards the possible usurpers got his meaning across.
Seeing Matthieu lifted his spirits enough to inquire of the lady of the house as to whether he might be of assistance. She smiled back with an enigmatic expression and said she would let him know if he was needed. Should that fail, he could try his luck with ( ... )
Reply
The boy was blond and a bit thin, with a wry smile and a coy manner. He aped innocence, but with such a coquettish edge that only a complete dullard would miss its falsity. He was dressed better than the street urchins, with the styles of the day: white shirt and breeches, and the marks left by the last patron on his neck, as telling as a brand. Neither bothered with names as he pressed the coin into the boy's fingers. The boy licked the coin and stuck it in a pocket hidden in his shirt.
His eyes were blue, not violet, and his hair not the color of honey, of ripened fields of wheat, but he would do for the night.
They went through the halls, amidst laughter of drunken men and whores, the sounds of l'amour in beds, against walls and ( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment