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Post by Aurel on Feb 11, 2009 13:47:15 GMT -5
Trying to find something appropriate to say, Aurel stared at Nicolas, searching for words. He didn't notice at first that his breathing was heavier than usual.
Nicolas came even closer and Aurel couldn't help but noticing his handsome, even beautiful face. Had he even noticed how he looked before? His lips were slightly parted, and his hair, almost seeming as wild as him, framed his face - making him look even more attractive. He silently cursed himself for staring at him like this, thinking of him like this. But he couldn't stop.
Once more, he'd blush if he was able to. When Nicolas stumbled into him, Aurel lost all sense of selfcontrol. He caught Nicolas as he bumped into him, and held him tightly. His kiss was more intense now; hungrier somehow. His head felt all fuzzy again, and his blurry mind couldn't seem to think at all. But right now, he couldn't care less. He was caught up in the moment, and actually was curious to see how far Nicolas would push things. And how far he was willing to go.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 12, 2009 15:47:12 GMT -5
Of course Nicolas knew he was kissing Aurel, and the man had kissed him back the last time, pliant and willing if not forward about it, but it was hardly the first thing he expected, to be kissed back so fiercely, with such... with such heat. And Nicolas, almost shocked as he considered it now, he hadn't done this since he'd been alive, since that last night with Lestat before the nightmare of his supernatural abduction. He wanted to crush Aurel to him, then feared he might harm him, and then recalled he was by far the stronger of them both, being older and simply seeming more put-together than Nicolas could ever hope to be - so he did, one arm and hand pressed against Aurel's back, the other hand against his face. Then he pushed his fingers through Aurel's hair, softly, rather sensually.
Such passion, he'd absolutely forgotten it in anything but the kill... And yet this was not the kill, this was not harming anyone, this was only beautiful, oh, he wanted to touch, and to be touched... This was a connection that would not end in Aurel's death; Aurel would be alive afterwards, very much alive, would not, like a victim, sink to the ground and leave Nicolas in unreality. Nicolas' mouth was both soft and insistent. He spent his time walking amongst others, convinced of an invisible barrier between them and himself, constantly isolated, and to suddenly be there with Aurel with nothing between them at all... He was more tender than he might have before seemed capable of being. But it made the moment no less physical, and Nicolas wanted him, terribly, pressing against him with absolute dependence.
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Post by Aurel on Feb 13, 2009 10:10:48 GMT -5
Nicolas drawing him even closer, his soft, sensual touch was almost too much to bear; he couldn't take it anymore. In one swift movement, Aurel had lifted Nicolas up and gently put him down on the floor. His mouth moved from Nicolas's lips to his neck, down to his collarbone. His hands gently cupped his cheeks as he moved up to kiss his lips again.
It wasn't until his hands started to wander, that Aurel momentarily came back to his senses. His hand had started to travel its way up Nicolas's shirt, when he froze. Maybe he was taking this too far. He had no idea of Nicolas's intentions, actually, and didn't feel like scaring him off. Still pausing, he looked Nicolas in the eyes, searching for an answer there.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 13, 2009 17:35:25 GMT -5
Anyone else might have thought about this, might have wanted to take a step back and consider where things were heading, but Nicolas was not thinking in the future, only in the present. And right now he burned. Oh, he couldn't have predicted this, and certainly didn't have the self-control or self-consciousness required to figure out where he was going with it. Even if he had, it was doubtful he would stop. As for the floor, well, he'd been in stranger places, he was sure.
When Aurel pulled back to look into his eyes, Nicolas thought nothing of it but that Aurel needed that brief moment of connection to supplement the intimacy Nicolas already felt, and assumed Aurel did also. He reached up a hand to stroke the side of Aurel's face, gazing back at him intently for a moment before slipping his arm around Aurel's waist and pulling him to him to kiss him again, absolutely mesmerized by him, by his presence, by this moment. He sighed softly into his mouth, pausing only a moment to pull back, resting his forehead against Aurel's a moment as though gathering himself. Then he leaned forward and kissed his throat hotly, fingers moving through his hair. Funny, this was the last thing he'd have thought of himself doing with the vampire lord not long ago. They'd been so much more likely to glower at each other than to burn with such desire.
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Post by Aurel on Feb 14, 2009 5:38:25 GMT -5
Nicolas didn't seem to think Aurel did anything wrong, and pulled him in for yet another kiss. The surreality of this situation occured to him once more when Nicolas's forehead rested against his. As his kisses moved to Aurel's throat, he felt it was too hard to restrain himself. One part of him wanted to rip Nicolas's clothes off, but an other part of his mind held him back, telling him to be careful. Careful of what, though?
Aurel's hands moved smoothlty as they unbuttoned Nicolas's shirt, then his right hand slid in under the fabric, while his left gently pulled back Nicolas's hair from his face.
Then he had to stop. If he went much further than this, he really wouldn't be able to restrain himself. His breathing was heavy, as he rolled off Nicolas and laid down beside him. "I can't...", he began. "If we continue this, I might not be able to... stop myself." he mumbled akwardly, and stared at the ceiling.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 14, 2009 16:12:27 GMT -5
Nicolas bit back a moan as Aurel's cool hand slid over his bare skin; he hardly recognized the difference between being dressed not being dressed, except that he registered pleasure much more quickly. He simultaneously tilted his head into Aurel's hand, finding a wonderful, tender tension in that touch, a shiver spreading down his spine, and turned it to kiss him further, his own fingers trembling as he unbuttoned the first few buttons on Aurel's shirt, to kiss his collarbone. He arched into him as though made nervous at the press of his hand, but he had never wanted anything so much, he thought; he moved to slid his hands around his waist and tilted his head back to kiss his lips again.
Therefore he was very much disoriented when Aurel pulled back. Nicolas propped himself up on the library's rich carpet and glanced back at him, realizing for the first time how much of his hair had come out of its tie. He pushed it off his brow and then tentatively reached his hand out to touch Aurel's hair, gently pushing it off his face.
He had been mesmerized by the shape of his lips as he spoke the words before he had quite listened to them, and therefore his own response was delayed. His fingers were strong but gentle as he traced them over the side of his face, moved to his throat. He'd never quite looked at him before, never quite taken him in.
"I don't understand," said Nicolas, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't want you to stop yourself."
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Post by Aurel on Feb 15, 2009 12:31:59 GMT -5
Fascinated that his problem wasn't the fact that Nicolas was a man, or that Aurel never been with a man before like this, Aurel realized he was troubled by the fact that Nicolas mightn't want to go as far as Aurel's' entire body yearned to do. He was surprised that he actually cared he might scare Nicolas off. The fact that he suddenly cared what Nicolas might think at all, was so new to him.
Aurel quietly observed him when he finished talking, wondering if Nicolas really had listened to him - he seemed distracted by something. He went back to staring at the ceiling for a short while, then got up to support himself on his elbow when he noticed Nicolas was about to speak.
Don't stop myself?
Aurel stared at him, speechless. Then he burst out in a laughter, a warm happy sound, which was so unusual for Aurel. To say such a thing... it was so Nicolas! Still smiling he sat up, and took Nicolas's hand. "You asked for it", he teased. More comfortable and certain now, Aurel slid off Nicolas's shirt while kissing his collarbone, continuing to his lips where his kisses grew more intense and passionate. He cupped his hands around Nicolas's cheeks again while leaning closer to him, gently pushing him down on the floor once more.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 15, 2009 17:53:57 GMT -5
Nicolas was no longer quite in the present; now he was rather a few seconds behind, attempting to keep up, so that everything seemed surreal and unusual, out of place, if no less exciting to him. The meaning of things registered in his mind only moments after he had heard them, so that when first they came to him, he could not comprehend them, only follow along. Aurel's laughter was like that. He had heard it seldom, but often enough to be taken aback by it now, how different it was. The incongruity between what he was familiar with - Aurel as being scornful, as finding him an object of derision, which Nicolas took because he didn't see anything else to do - and what he was currently familiarizing himself with, he marveled at it, and took it not for granted. He honestly couldn't see why Aurel would want him now at all, and, if he thought more than thirty seconds into the future, suspected he might change tactics any moment, but as he wanted him back, he did not speak a word in argument.
Nicolas tossed his head back, eyelashes fluttering, at Aurel's kisses, and as soon as his arms were free from his shirtsleeves, he placed his hands on Aurel's waist, moving to the fastenings at the front of his trousers and undoing them swiftly before hazardously groping for the lowest button on his shirt and fumbling to free it, moving upwards in a fashion that was endearingly impatient and ineffective - or, as it did work, less effective than starting at the collar and then going downwards would be. But as his hands had been closest to the hem of the shirt, that was where he had started.
And for some reason, he was happy they were on the floor. He would doubtless have cooled his attentions had they been anywhere near the decorum of a bedroom, and perhaps reconsidered, or at least suspected Aurel of some ulterior motive that Nicolas could not fathom. After all, just because he did not understand something did not mean he would not withdraw from it. Aurel's shirt undone, he moved his hands up his back almost tenderly, sliding them along his shoulders and from there easing the shirt down over his arms, kissing him more desperately, although there seemed to be a half-smile of unquestioning skepticism and delight on his mouth as he did so.
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Post by Aurel on Feb 18, 2009 13:15:29 GMT -5
More memories flashed by Aurels' mind. The first time he and Ciel kissed, the first time they made love, the first time they both realised how much they loved each other. The images were so clear, it felt as if he was right there, re-living them. He realised suddenly that the memory of Ciels' beautiful face slowly faded away, and he was back in the present - a present which was still much surrealistic for him to fully get a grip of it.
Aurel held back a moan. Nicolas' kisses felt way too real to be dreamt, which he sometimes thought he was. He caressed Nicolas carefully, warmly, holding him near. His hands moved down his back and to the front of his trousers, where he slowly started to undo the fastenings. He started to pull them down slowly.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 18, 2009 15:07:53 GMT -5
If Nicolas had been the sort of person to be affectionate or easily endeared, he would have been possibly made affectionate or endeared to Aurel to know his thoughts at that moment, for Aurel's sense of the moment's surreality was oddly like Nicolas's sense of reality at all times, and explained, perhaps, his behavior - which Aurel had at times been angered by. Or, as in moments such as these, involuntarily seduced by. Nicolas could not believe that he was what was wanted, that he was what was desired - he could not quite grasp anyone desiring him. But he could be convinced.
This was another one of those very unreal moments. The next time he saw Aurel, he would doubtless think it had not really happened, that it had been something existing in his mind in the moments between sleeping during the day and waking into the night - although he would probably try to bring into what he did think was the real world, so it might not look like he had forgotten it.
Nicolas shivered as Aurel's hands moved to the nineteenth-century trousers (how unusual and unfamiliar unbuttoning them was to him!), his own moving instinctively over his, to slide over his hands and feel them, how strong they were, how specific the skeleton beneath. Kissing him more slowly now, with more respect for the unique feel of his mouth and the rhythm they had fallen into, he pushed his hands up Aurel's arms to his shoulders, sliding them down over his back as he moved against him, holding him more tightly. His hands being probably vastly more expressive of his feelings than his speech ever was, he tried to take him in, to comprehend him, the texture of his skin and the shifting of his muscles beneath it, the architecture of Aurel's body... Then he brought his hands down to his loosened waistband and simultaneously moved to slid it down over his hips. One hand could do that, however unevenly; the other reached up to touch his face as though to remind himself who he was with as they kissed, softly.
Of course, the moment wouldn't last, it wasn't possible. This was always quick and efficient business. It might be all back to insolence and disrespect between both of them within the hour. But as Nicolas' eyebrows knitted together, as his lips parted and his head fell back, as he whispered the man's name to him - as he wrapped his arm around his neck to bring him closer, and with his other hand urged his hips down - Nicolas conveniently forgot.
((This thread is moments from a Fadeout. *proud of Nicolas* To be perfectly honest and boring a thread entitled "The Library" is the last place I'd ever expect one.))
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Post by Aurel on Feb 20, 2009 11:37:32 GMT -5
How could he denied himself these kind of pleasures for so long? How cold did he used to be? For how long had his heart been sealed away? He knew this wasn't true love - far from it. But Nicolas had somehow managed to lighten Aurel up slightly.
Aurel breathed heavily, somehow realizing that there was no going back, and almost gave out a sigh of relief as the last voice of hesitation was silenced, as Nicolas pulled him closer. His eyes close and he gave in to the moment. For as long as this would last, Nicolas would be his and Aurel would belong to him. For as long as this would last, Aurel nearly trembled under Nicolas's touch. For as long as this would last - Aurel would think of no one else but Nicolas.
((Hm. I think I'll go with the fadeout now. Sounds good?))
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 21, 2009 18:16:04 GMT -5
((Fine with me!))
**FADE-IN**
For a while, Nicolas heard nothing but the sound of their own breathing - and of their heartbeats, his own quite deafening, thudding most loudly in several veins throughout his body, and Aurel's beginning to heat up a different, although intrinsically connected, hunger from the one he'd just sated, such that Nicolas had to suppress the thought. He felt sort of deliciously warm despite his preternatural body; he supposed it was usual in the aftermath of passion. How strange to have forgotten. It brought back memories, didn't it - that first Paris winter, high in their attic room in that apartment, so uncomfortably cold, and Lestat and Nicki finding ways to make it better. This was not a pleasant memory to resurrect - he pushed that away, too. He was unusually concerned with how he might behave with Aurel now if he started to relive the past while with him, and did not doubt an instant that Aurel would not deal with him thoroughly in his displeasure at such a treatment.
After all, he was more than usually affectionate towards the man at the moment. It had been so nice, in its own way - not the kill, no, certainly not, but quite a bit more than the mimicry of mortal kissing. And even though it had been altogether rather casual - he had become suddenly aware of where they lay, there on the carpet, it was a nice carpet, too - it had been at the same time overwhelmingly intense. Which was a good characterization, he thought, of both of them.
He would not have thought, he would confess, that the two of them could blend so well, particularly not in such a fashion. A little playful mood struck him and he leaned forward, pushing himself up with one hand, to give Aurel another kiss, more gentle and more brisk than those of earlier, before falling back to continue resting. Even though he was quite silent, though, his eyes watched Aurel with a sort of soft light in them, contemplative and new to their time together.
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Post by Aurel on Feb 22, 2009 8:42:11 GMT -5
It seemed that Aurel had fallen in some sort of light slumber. He had yet again relived a couple of pleasant memories, and some unpleasant as well. When Nicolas kissed him, it was as if he saved him from his uncomfortable nightmares. Aurel opened his eyes, and glanced over at Nicolas, who quietly watched him. Now they both were back from their surrealistic moment together, and Aurel didn't know what to say. He stared at Nicolas, realizing that the beauty he saw in him when they were in the moment was still there. How odd.
He looked away from him, now a little embarrased to stare like that, and focused his eyes on a random spot of the cieling. What now? Would they go back to that akward relationship they had before, where Nicolas nearly drove him insane? He looked baxk at Nicolas, his green eyes now a little calmer, a little warmer. He knew he didn't want to go back to that, but didn't know what he wanted to have instead.
He sat up slowly, and gracefully reached out for his clothes, which lay in a pile right next to him. He noticed that Nicolas's clothes were there too, and turned to give them to him. "Here...", he said in a low voice. "I thought you maybe wanted to get dressed." He felt a little distracted to look at Nicolas - too beautiful - so he turned away akwardly.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Feb 22, 2009 16:35:48 GMT -5
Nicolas, of course, stared often enough to not notice when another was staring back, or at least not to consider staring the way people usually did. He would have thought of it, more naturally, as watching; he was used to watching, he enjoyed to regard other people, and did not at all mind being regarded. Had he known that some opinion of him was being contemplated at the same time, he might have been a little surprised to hear it, and, knowing what that opinion was, might, perhaps, have even been flattered by it, or at least mildly pleased. Nicolas very rarely thought about what he looked like.
Taking his clothes produced an uncommon observation in him; he had not given any thought to his attire before this point, not generally understanding or caring to the fashions of the 19th century, which were as unlike those of his own as could be - nowadays it was the trousers that were loose and the shirt-sleeves that were tight, and pastels and lace trim and stockings and high heels were left to the women, none of which made any sense to Nicolas. None of these things, considered feminine now, had been any detractor to masculinity in his day, after all. Nicolas took whatever clothes he could find, from victims, generally, who no longer needed them. He was momentarily unwilling to put these clothes on, though, now, seeing them for what they were, dusty, brown and stiff with blood stains in places. He dressed quickly nonetheless, attempting to ignore it, but looking at the dust on his clothes made him suddenly acutely aware of what his hair must look like, and Nicolas, rather shyly, reached up a hand to tuck his back behind his ear, surprised to find suddenly that it was all loose and down, having come undone without his knowing it some time previously.
He glanced back at Aurel in surprise at this, completely guilelessly, and swept his eyes over the carpet for the ribbon he'd held it back with. As he found it and tied it back again, he considered how much an anachronism he was, and for the first time thought of this - correctly - as a potential difficulty for him. After all, time would never be going backwards for him, only forward. He'd have to adjust eventually, wouldn't he?
He shook his head gently and turned back to Aurel, watching him with a soft smile. After a moment, he leaned forward, holding himself up by pressing a hand against the carpet, and kissed him yet again, bringing his other hand to his face, before leaning back, bringing himself to his knees and regarding him thoughtfully.
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Post by Aurel on Feb 25, 2009 15:59:11 GMT -5
Aurel was much surprised by the second kiss. What was that for? But he said nothing - he just smiled as an answer and went back to buttoning his shirt.
Still sitting on the floor, he looked around in the room. The library seemed a little different to him now. Before this, the library most of the time was a calm, quiet - and boring, according to Vincent - place where he'd relax and was able to be alone. He had no idea that he would... here of all places. He frowned a little when he thought what Vincent might had said if he knew. He'd probably laugh and congrat him on being less dull (while Aurel probably would throw him into a wall as an answer).
He noticed that Nicolas seemed a little bothered by putting his clothes back on, and he could see why. His clothes looked old and they were stained with blood and generally dirty. His hair was even more tousled than usual.
"Would you..." Aurel hesitated; he didn't want this to sound as if he tried to insult him. "Would you like some new clothes? I'm sure Vincent has left some here that you can take, otherwise I'll give you some of mine."
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