FreckersFrog

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Feeling Lucien's tongue against his own had pushed the Irishman over the edge. Faolan wanted Lucien, entirely, and in this moment he could do nothing to stop himself from making the moves to get what he wanted, what he needed.

As Lucien's cool fingers slid up his shirt, he gripped the Frenchman tighter, both arms now wrapped around his waist. He lifted Lucien until his feet were off the ground, then stepped forward until he sensed the bed. He let Lucien gently down onto the bed and broke the kiss for only a moment. He stood over Lucien, looking down on the skin of his heaving chest and flushed cheeks. Faolan pulled his shirt from the bottom up and slipped it off, never taking his eyes off of Lucien. He tossed the tank top to the floor and closed the distance to the Frenchman again, hovering over him before crashing down into another kiss. All of his movements were natural, fluid, and gentle, concealing the welling tidal wave of desire that threatened to spill over and flood the room.

He supported himself on an elbow as he let his other hand slide from Lucien's neck to his chest and down his stomach. When he met the resistance of Lucien's shirt, he started to unbutton it instinctively but fumbled with only one hand.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt was pleased by Ivory's reaction, only because he could tell that his speech and his reasoning had been enough to convince her. Although he knew nothing of what the moves of silk dancing were called, if they even had names, he had no idea how to use them appropriately, so he didn't bother. He knew Ivory was an expert, and was respecting her craft not to pander to her.

He remained standing as he watched her climb to the top of the silks, then begin tangling them about herself. He watched and memorized her movements, knowing he would need visual cues to time his entrance. It was complex, but he was following it well. He watched her fall, noting the tension in the silk as it rubbed against her skin. That could not be comfortable, but he didn't expect a complaint.

When the drop was done, Geralt could not help but raise his eyebrows. He was impressed, to say the least. Her act was elegant and thrilling, not unlike other activities that were among the Magician's favorites. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to give Ivory a once over, admiring her physique. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be amazing between the sheets.

As she flipped onto her feet, he noticed the marks the silks had left against her pale skin, but decided not to comment. He doubted they hurt anyway, considering her...condition.

He slowly brought his hands together in a clap, shaking his head in wonder. "More than potent, Ivory. That was...perfect. Just what I was looking for." he took several steps forward and vaulted onto the stage with almost no effort, just like his counterpart.

"Now," he said, as he approached her, "For my entrance." He kept a healthy distance, but began to circle Ivory and the silks, looking at the full length of them as he did so. His eyes darted about the stage, measuring for space, making calculations. He stopped once he had reached his original position.

"Honestly," he said after his momentary silence, "I think it's best to go simple from her...build the tension again during the act. We want to give the crowd a moment of pause, let their hearts stop as they see you reach the bottom, and breath a sigh of relief as--" he stopped here, his eyes glinting with the light of an idea, and glanced from Ivory and back to the silks again as a smile slowly traced itself across his lips.

As the pause reached epic proportions, Ivory gestured and raise her eyebrows. Clearly, she was out of patience for Geralt's theatrics.

He shook his head, "Of course, my apologies, I was just...imaging it." He cleared his throat, then walked to stand between the silks and turned to face Ivory. "As I come to save the day." he said, smile wider than ever. "I think I should catch you." He said, matter-of-factly. In his eyes, this was the best, most thrilling option. In addition, it made his entrance give the audience a positive view of him even before he began performing, which he didn't need, but would never say no to an opportunity for it. Yes, this was what they should do, he was sure of it.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan was completely enraptured by Lucien, absorbed in him. He imagined that all this time he had been holding back from something so wonderful, so comforting...if only he could change the past...

He felt Lucien's hand against his chest and moaned inadvertently with pleasure as heat followed wherever the Nephilim touched. Every second of skin contact was like a breath of air to him, and he only wanted more and more of it. Although he was being extraordinarily gentle for a man of his size and strength, he could feel that this would be short lived if they continued this way. Desire had been one thing that he had buried so deep within him that he wasn't sure he could still access it...until now. Now it was coming out in a flood, a torrent, and Faolan was splitting his attention between keeping it at bay and this intimate moment. If something had to give, Faolan knew which he would choose to unleash.

When Lucien broke the kiss, Faolan was surprised, and a little worried that he had done something wrong. His hand had snaked from Lucien's hip to cover the Nephilim's palm as it lay against his chest, and he gripped it now for fear of Lucien pulling away from him. He looked down, once more into Lucien's eyes and felt all of the fear melt away as he heard the words. He opened his mouth to respond, but only "I lo-" escaped before the kiss resumed.

With renewed passion, Faolan pulled Lucien into him with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other against his neck, feeling the throbbing of his jugular beneath his fingers. He pressed Lucien to him until they were seamless, their chests and hips completely flush with one another. Faolan knew that he was aroused, but he didn't care if Lucien noticed or not. There was so much heat between them, there was nothing Faolan could do to stop the obvious signs from showing. He had not felt this in...well...ever.

Without thinking, but within the rhythm of the kiss, Faolan's tongue slipped from behind his teeth to brush Lucien's lips and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Geralt raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously for but a moment before gesturing as he spoke, "My apologies, miss. I only mean...well, the ending is a little," he paused, thinking of the word, "impotent, nein?" He could see the annoyance welling up in Ivory at this, so he raised both hands in surrender. Although he enjoyed the color rising in her cheeks, that was not his intention now.

"I don't mean to offend, of course I think your performance is absolutely breath-taking." He began to pace as he explained, "You are confident, make good use of your space, and there is good drama and pacing. I'm simply critiquing the composition. I think, maybe, the end should be bigger, more grand, more death-defying. I know you're more than capable, and I know the audience will appreciate something more spectacular at the end. In addition, this would give me a little extra time for an entrance that is elegant, and understated."

There was a slight pause here, then Geralt turned back to Ivory, back in the center of the room, and lowered his shoulders in mock-submission, "Is that clear enough?"

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan didn't know what he was expecting Lucien to say in response to this torrent of words and emotions that had just escaped him. He was so used to controlling his emotions, his anger and his fears, that he never realized that this control had extended to his positive feelings as well. He had kept them all locked away, to in turn imprison the beast that lived inside of him. With Lucien, he thought maybe that beast was being freed...that it would be dangerous for him to express himself when he felt so strongly. But it had had the opposite effect on him.

As Lucien returned his feelings, confirmed that he felt the same...Faolan felt nothing but a wave of pure relief. He didn't know that he had been hoping for the Frenchman to say these words until he had heard them spoken from his lips, in his voice. Every bit of it was a soothing balm that comforted him.

He felt his hands began to shake as Lucien approached him and almost started as the Frenchman touched his cheek. He knew that he had longed for Lucien's touch, but didn't know how he craved it. It was, in this moment, like air to him. He never wanted to go back to a place that Lucien felt he could not touch him like this. He stared into Lucien's eyes, golden pools of warm light that pulled him in. Like a moth to a flame, he was entranced. He moved forward, not realizing that he was reaching for Lucien until his fingers touched the cloth of his shirt.

He wanted to say something in answer to Lucien's warning, his request, but in this moment Faolan could think of only one thing to do with his mouth. He leaned forward and kissed Lucien again, slowly and softly, afraid of moving too roughly or being too aggressive. As soon as their lips touched, that flame that had been dormant in him since the day he'd left was awakened once more. It burned in his chest like the engine of a ship, pumping steam-like adrenaline into his veins. He left one hand on Lucien's hip, and the other moved behind Lucien's ear, caressing the soft tips of his raven hair. Although Faolan wanted to do so much more, he kept all of his movements soft and slow, as gentle as he had ever been, to avoid the avalanche of desire that would surely break on them if he allowed it to.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

It mocks you...the filthy creature thinks it's better than us.

All in due time now...Geralt answered the voice inwardly, mostly to quiet the voice. He needed to focus.

He had twirled his fingers to slip the record of Ivory's choosing out of it's sleeve and begin to play it on the gramophone, never taking his eyes off of the girl. This was different music than before, and hopefully would accompany a different routine as well. He would be greatly disappointed if Ivory recycled the same routine for the Big Top, it was a special show, of course.

Fortunately, she did not disappoint him. The act was not the same, although it incorporated some of the same moves used in the routine from the previous night, they were in a different order, and some were added that he had never seen before. He had been right not to underestimate her. Ivory was, if anything, an accomplished and dedicated performer. Geralt would not have requested to follow any one else's routine, especially after seeing this. He thought the night should build in scale, and this was the best way to accomplish it.

Normally, he would have spent this time watching Ivory's body more than the performance. She was quite attractive, and strong, and though her clothing was baggy, the twists and turns did give the Magician some glimpse of her pale skin beneath. However, this was business, and he intended to keep it that way. He watched her with the eyes of a performer, an artist, and not the eyes of a man. Ivory was not the only person in this tent who was a master of their craft, and he intended to make this known.

He watched it to the end, leaning forward in his chair, resting and elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He trailed a finger across his lips in the posture of contemplating what he was seeing, but otherwise did not make any comments or interruptions. He had notes, of course, but he thought it best not to tell her while she was concentrating.

Once the routine was over, he leaned back in his chair and offered Ivory a few small claps. "That was stunning, but I expected no less," he said, then stood and moved halfway between the chair and the stage. "I wonder though..." he added, eyes narrowed slightly, "If we can't do more with it."

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan took a deep breath, trying as best he could to compose himself before speaking. He knew that Lucien deserved to hear the truth, to know what was going on inside of the Irishman. Faolan knew what he had to say, he just didn't know the right words and the right order for them.

"I'll try," he said as he met Lucien's eyes. He swallowed, then began:

"There are so many things that I want to apologize for. I'm sorry for leavin' ya like that, and for bein' gone so long without a word. I'm sorry that I came back like tha-...like this." He gestured to himself, looking down like he was ashamed, and he was. "I'm sorry for snappin' on ya', and for gettin' all worked up over Marcel. I don't know what that was..." he said, almost laughing to himself. To anyone who didn't know the Irishman, it would have sounded like a quiet bark.

"Most of all, I'm sorry for lyin' to ya'. I'm many things, Lucien, but I'm not a liar. I know this might not be...right, or what you want to hear, but I need you to know, even if it hurts us both." He stepped forward again, making eye contact with Lucien as he gestured weakly with his hands, as if he were tossing the words into his mouth. "It did mean something to me...what I--what we did. I didn't know, back then, but it's been growin' since the day we met. I was drunk, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted--I want you," he said, stepping forward again.

"I'm sorry for so many things..." he said again, dropping his gaze. "But I'm not sorry that I kissed you. I lied--I said it was a mistake--because I'm scared for us, for you. It's no excuse, but...it's the truth."

He looked up once more, his eyes glossy but set, his jaw tight and resolute. There was a look of clarity on his face that was not there before; it was done, he'd decided. "I'm not going to run anymore. Not from you...not ever again."

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan stepped forward, toward Lucien as the Frenchman spoke and turned his back. "No," he said, holding out a hand but not touching him. They were still too far apart. "It's not alright."

There was another pause as Faolan dropped his hand, and his gaze, to the floor. He had always had a hard time expressing himself. Even as a boy, he was quiet and observant. His ma told him he didn't even cry when he was born, but he didn't smile either. It was just his way. But now he was trying harder than he ever had to just say how he felt. He had to tell Lucien...so many things, but mostly that he was wrong.

"I should never have said those things to you. I'm at fault here, I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have...lied to you." His voice quieted near the end of this sentence. He needed to say this, but he didn't want to yet. He had so much more to tell him before he said this. He had to back track, to explain.

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

"Ich weiß das du wirst." Geralt said aloud to Aurel's comment as they left, then followed Ivory toward the big top.

She was walking fast, which wasn't surprising to Geralt. He was sure that Ivory wanted to get this over with as quickly as she could, she would not be pleased to spend more time with him than absolutely necessary. This was unfortunate for her, because Geralt the Great was a perfectionist. If it was his job to close out the show with a bang, he was going to make sure that he did it right, from start to finish, and this included their transition. Although he knew Ivory was stubborn from the moment he met her, he also knew that she was dedicated to her craft. He could tell this mostly by how well-toned the muscles in her legs and abdomen were. In his experience, vampires didn't need to do much in the way of working out to maintain their trim and lithe figures, but it was clear to him that Ivory was putting in the extra effort, to dazzling effect. In fact, he was glad that she was walking so fast as it allowed him a wonderful view on the way inside.

Once they were in, he followed her to the stage and watched her leap up. Those muscles certainly served her well. He was about to begin speaking, when the girl beat him to the punch. He raised an eyebrow, but dutifully listened to her explanation. As he did so, he made his way over to one of the chairs, pulled it into the center of the space and took a seat in it. He crossed one leg over the other and held his knee with both hands as he watched Ivory's explanation, listening and watching intently everything she laid out for him. The layout she described made sense, but he had suspected nothing less from a man of Lucien's talents.

After she finished speaking, he merely stared up at her. She did abide this for a while, placing a hand on her hip as she looked down at him. When he still did not speak, she waved her other hand and said, "Did you get all of that?"

Geralt nodded and shrugged, "Of course. I'm simply waiting."

He could almost see her holding back an eyeroll, "For?" she asked, somewhat aggressively. "I'm done explaining."

Geralt held back a sigh, "I don't think you are," he said, maintaining his smirk throughout the exchange, "I need to see the rest."

Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

Faolan had stood in the back of the room, watching Lucien play the piano in total silence and stillness. He didn't want to breathe, or move, for fear of tipping the Nephilim off that he was here.

He had come here tonight with the intention of...well, he didn't know what he had intended. But as soon as he had stepped into the bar and seen Lucien bent over the keys, heard the music he was playing, all of the steam had exited his body. He felt as though he were falling down a deep dark hole with no bottom, that the music could reach him in the center of the earth but nothing else could. He watched every movement of Lucien's shoulders, his head as he bowed it, his eyelashes that fluttered...he felt something inside of him break. It wasn't his heart, no...he had tried as he might to break that himself and found it impossible. It felt like...freedom.

He didn't even notice when a man approached him, which was very unlike Faolan. The man whispered, so as not to distract the guests, "Ah,
monsieur," he said in a thick French accent, "Is there something I can help you with? A table, perhaps?" he asked, smiling.

Faolan looked down at him, dark hair and a mustache with a well-trimmed beard. He was older, probably in his 40s, entirely human, with inviting eyes and a welcoming smile. This has to be Marcel.

"Ehm...no," Faolan began, glancing back up at Lucien as he felt the music coming to an end, "I...I'm in the wrong place."

Marcel, presumably, looked quite dejected at this, but understanding. "Ah, well, if you decide to be in the mood for some Chopin and some wine, you come back to Rouge ou Blanc. We take care of you here aah..." There was a slight pause, "Forgive me, monsieur, but are you alright?"

Faolan looked back down at him as the last key was struck, sensing genuine concern in the man's eyes. "Oh, yes, fine...I'm fine." he turned to go, shielding himself from the view of the dining room around the corner, then turned once more and added, "Your musician...he's wonderful."

Marcel nodded at this, the concern disappearing from his face, "Oh yes, this Lucien...he is-" he struggled for a moment to find the word, "magnifique. Come back, he will play something...not so sad next time."

Faolan paused again as he heard the crowd erupt into applause at Lucien's performance. His mouth twitched at the corners in to a very short-lived, but genuine smile. "I hope so." At this, he turned and left.

He had gone back to the house much slower than he had made his way to the bar, wandering a bit through the streets. He kept his hands in his pockets, and mostly looked at his feet. Every now and again he would look up when he heard a noise or sensed people near him. He stopped at a park and saw two young lovers holding hands, giggling quietly and disappearing into nearby bushes. He heard babies crying and their mother's coos through windows, saw men returning from work looking glum, saw women standing on street corners propositioning. None of this would mean anything to him if it weren't for Lucien. He saw the meaning in things now, felt the thrum and hum of the earth beneath his feet. Before he was just wandering the earth, searching for nothing. He was so unaware that he didn't even realize that he had found what he had need all along...he couldn't abide this, not any more.

The breakage he had felt before were the bands he had wound so tightly around his heart. They had kept him safe until now, comforted in his lack of care for anything or anyone other than himself. Lucien had broken them, and now Faolan was free.

He found his way back to the house, back to their room. He sat on the bed and quietly waited for Lucien to return.

When he smelled Lucien's scent enter the building, heard his footsteps, his heart began to race again. This time it was not from anger or fear, but from excitement. He had so much to say, he just had to say it right this time.

When Lucien entered, he looked up at him, slowly, and felt as though he were seeing the man for the first time. He did not smile, he couldn't yet, knowing all of the pain he had put Lucien through. He held it at bay, and instead he stood as Lucien entered the room and closed the door.

"Lucien...I'm glad," there was a pause, his words hung in the air like heavy stones about to fall. "And...I'm sorry." These words came from him like a sigh of relief, even though his body was humming like an engine, it was something he had been holding inside for so long...it was as if he had finally laid down his pack and taken off his boots. He was coming home.