Capoter sur quelqu'un
TITLE: Capoter Sur Quelqu'un
CHARACTERS: José Théodore and Sheldon Souray
WORD COUNT: 2,018 Words
RATING: R for Implied Sex
DISCLAIMER: Better than being mine is they're mine in my head
A/N: Capoter sur quelqu'un is a Québécois expression meaning to have a crush on someone.
José and I, even when separated by oceans and continents, are never truly apart. Much like marionettes, a string is tugged and a movement follows in a steady flow of actions and reactions. I’ve become a puppet to my heart and thoughts, scores of which belong to only him. Life without José is like being detached from my strings and I seem to just lie on the floor in a heap, disconnected, until he finds his way back and sweeps me into his arms. He breathes the life into me that I had missed. And I had missed him.
Even through the blinds, I felt the warmth of morning burying me in its light. I couldn’t bear to open my eyes to it simply because I’d have to acknowledge another day. But this didn’t feel like my bed. The scent on the pillows was a familiar mix of sweat and his shampoo, of soap, and sex and sleep. I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my face, smothering myself in its soft textures and all the scents I find myself enamoured with. Part me thought if I reached over he wouldn’t be there but still my hand instinctively reached over, blindly patting the rumpled sheets with my palm until my fingertips felt flesh. I slid a hand lazily over his side and crawled my fingers over his abdomen, tapping gently one after another, gradually, until my hand rested flat on his stomach.
I felt him stir underneath me, a small moan escaping from deep in his throat, humming to me in approval as he curled up next to me. He draped a leg leisurely over mine and I felt a small smile slide across my lips. He fit like my José. If my eyes stayed closed perhaps I could keep this moment as a dream. I fought against the covers as I reached beneath him. My eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting from the sun that fell in slats over us, alternating from light to dark until it faded off into the corners of his bedroom. I wrapped my arm around the bare shoulders that peered from the blankets, kissing the mess of hair that lay next to me. I held my breath as I began to push at the wisps that strayed over his forehead, sweeping them across his brow to catch a glimpse of the face that belonged to the body cradled against me. My José.
"C’est le matin?" José whispered sleepily, wincing agonizingly at the intrusion of daylight. He stretched his body flat across the bed, groaning and then purring before molding against me.
"We can go back to sleep, if you want," I mumbled between yawns, my eyes fixed on José’s beautiful, sleepy face.
"No, no, I want to get up. I want to go out. Have you seen this weather, Shelly?" José laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. It brightened the morning just a bit more and I couldn’t help but grin at his childlike excitement, “I haven’t been home since I left for Sweden. I would love to go to Old Montréal. Maybe? Please.”
I rolled my eyes thoughtlessly as he tried to hide his obvious disappointment at my reaction. I wasn’t ready to return him to the world that always wanted a piece of him. Before sunrise, he was mine. I'm painfully aware that as the night gives way to the pinks and oranges of dawn, the sun will rise and separate the colours from the sky. I can feel his hands slip from mine and we fade away into our separate lives until we’re once again brought together by the secrets of dark skies, silhouettes and the streaming moonlight. We have to let go but we find our way home, in parts that correspond, in the ways we are a perfect match.
He looked down and turned his head from me, rolling away. I gathered him back up and he surprisingly didn’t fight me.
"I’d love to keep you here all day, Théo," I murmured against the back of his neck, pressing light kisses on his tender, warm skin, as I locked him in my embrace.
I felt his back rise and fall as he sighed; shrugging his shoulders gently as he tensed, his voice shallow but not defeated, "Maybe not Old Montréal then. Somewhere else? Somewhere I have not been in... in I don’t know how long."
"I don’t want to GO anywhere. Chus heureux icitte. We can just stay in," I stammered back firmly, immediately regretting it and watching as José silently mumbled to himself and climbed out of bed, tossing the blankets in my direction. I turned my head back into the pillow as his shadow diminished as he walked further away from the room and he disappeared. The echo of the bathroom door slamming shut made the entire room vibrate and as I closed my eyes and gripped tighter at the blankets, my selfishness turned quickly to guilt. In the past few months, our lives have been filled with coming and going in rather excessive amounts. As soon as we start to get full, something comes and tips us over until we’ve spilled and spread apart. Just another mess to clean up, until the next time. I’d be damned if I’m the one who sends us in all directions.
Sighing in defeat, I propped myself up on my elbows and called out to José, "Théo… come back. I’m sorry."
José, still naked, unhurriedly wandered back into the bedroom, hanging his head and climbed into bed, curling around me as I enveloped him. He buried his head in my chest as I clung to him, "Désolé…," I whispered as I gently kissed to the top of his head, "I love you, let’s not fight."
He nodded in agreement and looked up at me with his dark brown eyes, tender and almost juvenile, silently pleading with me to kiss him. As my lips met his, everything washed away and the world around us became a dull distraction, "Je t’aime aussi," he mumbled, breaking from the kiss, his eyes still closed as he settled against me, hugging just a bit tighter than before.
When I am with him, time doesn’t seem to follow in patterns, hand over hand on the face of a clock. The minutes, hours, days we spend together, wrinkle like crumpled paper. Time takes on arduous forms that warp and fold, that if flattened would resemble nothing more than a maze of chaotic lines that crease in certain stages of nonsense. We keep it bunched and held together in its rutted mess because no matter what, it makes sense to us. It is still ours to keep whether we understand it or not.
As seconds seemed to tick by, the light flickered in the room from passing clouds in the sky, dimming everything as if it mimicked our mood. Our shadows on the wall faded into each other as our bodies melted and became one. I buried into José, tiny moans like brilliant lanterns guiding my heavy touch against his skin. Outlines of fingertips and groping hands reflected off our pale figures. Fluid movements visible to us only by the heat that swathed our restless figures, keeping us locked to each other and blocking everyone else out. As I climaxed, I couldn't help but admire the sweat from José’s body, glowing like dew that dripped lightly away like wax from a candle. I licked over his skin with the tip of my tongue, feeling him shiver underneath me at the height of his own orgasm.
As we lay on the bed together and I managed to compose myself to something that resembled coherent, "What about Mont-Royal, cher? We haven’t been in… well, I haven’t been in ages."
José perked up as he wiped the sweat from across his head, "Vraiment?"
"Would I mention it if I didn’t mean it. We can disappear there not in the same way we would be able to disappear on Rue-Gossford by l’Édifice Lucien-Saulnier. Are you really in the mood to be taken down by screaming fan-girls?" I said, laughing at the familiar image in my head.
He chuckled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, "Mont-Royal it is, then. BUT only if we can take my car."
Without another sound, I agreed, not ready for another battle. I begrudgingly let him leave as I followed behind him for a quick shower. Afterwards, as we were dressing, I started to think about all the things that plagued my mind the last few weeks since the World Championships; having José stay behind to be with someone else, his confession of love to another and the deafening silence of not having him around. Perhaps I was finally ready to just tell him how I feel. We hadn’t spoke of it since the night I won the silver medal and we slept on the floor of our hotel room under the weight of an entire bottle of tequila.
I thought about it then and all the way up the mountain but I remained silent most of the trip. Every so often, José would shoot me a smile or admire something he had missed as we drove up Côte-des-Neiges to le Chemin Remembrance. We parked at Belvédère Camillien-Houde and made our way through a trail that looked private, tucked away by trees fresh in bloom. I hugged José closer as I realised no one was around, mimicking the ivy that grew across the trunks of the trees previously buried underneath mounds of snow. Everything seemed new.
"Let’s sit by the lake, Shelly," José pleaded, pointing in the direction of le Lac aux Castors, curling his fingers around my wrist and dragging me off the dirt paved trail.
"Shouldn’t we stay on the path," I asked, darting my eyes around looking for any chance we might get caught.
"You’re no fun, Shelly. C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?"
I shrugged and chuckled lightly as I followed on his heels. He planted himself in the grass and tugged at me to collapse next to him. I sat next to him lazily in the shade of large trees that surrounded us. We were suddenly hidden from plain view and a feeling of incredible relaxation fell over me. I sighed happily as I gazed at the water undulate under the blue sky, reflecting the clouds that passed overhead. The warmth of the afternoon overwhelmed me as I sunk against the earth and looked over at José sprawled out next to me.
"What are you thinking, Shelly," José pondered as he trailed his fingers through my hair, smiling down at me before pressing a light kiss to my lips.
"Nothing... I’m fine, cher. Please. I’m happy right now. This is nice." I feigned as I kissed him back, drawing him closer until he relaxed taut against me.
"You just seem, seem pre-occupied. But..." He trailed off, cautious not to push anything and his head fell into my chest. I realised that if I didn’t tell him now, I might never. My breathing became staggered, nervous as I embraced him, fearing that the words would come out more a forced melody than a hymn that sung his glories. I knew what I had to do and that I would sing it from the rhythm reverberating from my heart.
"José, I am going to tell you this now," I murmured, "I just... I don’t know how to tell you." He gave me a long, concerned look breaking the harmony of my words and staggering my courage. I held my breath deep in my chest for a moment as I watched his curious eyes, searching for something, anything.
"I want to keep you. I want to be with you. My Théo, mon coeur, j’suis t’amoureux. I am in love with you." I exhaled slowly, unsure of the timing and tempo, I closed my eyes, squeezing him in my arms. He smiled and kissed me, nestling down against my body as I pondered in my head how the next verse would be written.
CHARACTERS: José Théodore and Sheldon Souray
WORD COUNT: 2,018 Words
RATING: R for Implied Sex
DISCLAIMER: Better than being mine is they're mine in my head
A/N: Capoter sur quelqu'un is a Québécois expression meaning to have a crush on someone.
José and I, even when separated by oceans and continents, are never truly apart. Much like marionettes, a string is tugged and a movement follows in a steady flow of actions and reactions. I’ve become a puppet to my heart and thoughts, scores of which belong to only him. Life without José is like being detached from my strings and I seem to just lie on the floor in a heap, disconnected, until he finds his way back and sweeps me into his arms. He breathes the life into me that I had missed. And I had missed him.
Even through the blinds, I felt the warmth of morning burying me in its light. I couldn’t bear to open my eyes to it simply because I’d have to acknowledge another day. But this didn’t feel like my bed. The scent on the pillows was a familiar mix of sweat and his shampoo, of soap, and sex and sleep. I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my face, smothering myself in its soft textures and all the scents I find myself enamoured with. Part me thought if I reached over he wouldn’t be there but still my hand instinctively reached over, blindly patting the rumpled sheets with my palm until my fingertips felt flesh. I slid a hand lazily over his side and crawled my fingers over his abdomen, tapping gently one after another, gradually, until my hand rested flat on his stomach.
I felt him stir underneath me, a small moan escaping from deep in his throat, humming to me in approval as he curled up next to me. He draped a leg leisurely over mine and I felt a small smile slide across my lips. He fit like my José. If my eyes stayed closed perhaps I could keep this moment as a dream. I fought against the covers as I reached beneath him. My eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting from the sun that fell in slats over us, alternating from light to dark until it faded off into the corners of his bedroom. I wrapped my arm around the bare shoulders that peered from the blankets, kissing the mess of hair that lay next to me. I held my breath as I began to push at the wisps that strayed over his forehead, sweeping them across his brow to catch a glimpse of the face that belonged to the body cradled against me. My José.
"C’est le matin?" José whispered sleepily, wincing agonizingly at the intrusion of daylight. He stretched his body flat across the bed, groaning and then purring before molding against me.
"We can go back to sleep, if you want," I mumbled between yawns, my eyes fixed on José’s beautiful, sleepy face.
"No, no, I want to get up. I want to go out. Have you seen this weather, Shelly?" José laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. It brightened the morning just a bit more and I couldn’t help but grin at his childlike excitement, “I haven’t been home since I left for Sweden. I would love to go to Old Montréal. Maybe? Please.”
I rolled my eyes thoughtlessly as he tried to hide his obvious disappointment at my reaction. I wasn’t ready to return him to the world that always wanted a piece of him. Before sunrise, he was mine. I'm painfully aware that as the night gives way to the pinks and oranges of dawn, the sun will rise and separate the colours from the sky. I can feel his hands slip from mine and we fade away into our separate lives until we’re once again brought together by the secrets of dark skies, silhouettes and the streaming moonlight. We have to let go but we find our way home, in parts that correspond, in the ways we are a perfect match.
He looked down and turned his head from me, rolling away. I gathered him back up and he surprisingly didn’t fight me.
"I’d love to keep you here all day, Théo," I murmured against the back of his neck, pressing light kisses on his tender, warm skin, as I locked him in my embrace.
I felt his back rise and fall as he sighed; shrugging his shoulders gently as he tensed, his voice shallow but not defeated, "Maybe not Old Montréal then. Somewhere else? Somewhere I have not been in... in I don’t know how long."
"I don’t want to GO anywhere. Chus heureux icitte. We can just stay in," I stammered back firmly, immediately regretting it and watching as José silently mumbled to himself and climbed out of bed, tossing the blankets in my direction. I turned my head back into the pillow as his shadow diminished as he walked further away from the room and he disappeared. The echo of the bathroom door slamming shut made the entire room vibrate and as I closed my eyes and gripped tighter at the blankets, my selfishness turned quickly to guilt. In the past few months, our lives have been filled with coming and going in rather excessive amounts. As soon as we start to get full, something comes and tips us over until we’ve spilled and spread apart. Just another mess to clean up, until the next time. I’d be damned if I’m the one who sends us in all directions.
Sighing in defeat, I propped myself up on my elbows and called out to José, "Théo… come back. I’m sorry."
José, still naked, unhurriedly wandered back into the bedroom, hanging his head and climbed into bed, curling around me as I enveloped him. He buried his head in my chest as I clung to him, "Désolé…," I whispered as I gently kissed to the top of his head, "I love you, let’s not fight."
He nodded in agreement and looked up at me with his dark brown eyes, tender and almost juvenile, silently pleading with me to kiss him. As my lips met his, everything washed away and the world around us became a dull distraction, "Je t’aime aussi," he mumbled, breaking from the kiss, his eyes still closed as he settled against me, hugging just a bit tighter than before.
When I am with him, time doesn’t seem to follow in patterns, hand over hand on the face of a clock. The minutes, hours, days we spend together, wrinkle like crumpled paper. Time takes on arduous forms that warp and fold, that if flattened would resemble nothing more than a maze of chaotic lines that crease in certain stages of nonsense. We keep it bunched and held together in its rutted mess because no matter what, it makes sense to us. It is still ours to keep whether we understand it or not.
As seconds seemed to tick by, the light flickered in the room from passing clouds in the sky, dimming everything as if it mimicked our mood. Our shadows on the wall faded into each other as our bodies melted and became one. I buried into José, tiny moans like brilliant lanterns guiding my heavy touch against his skin. Outlines of fingertips and groping hands reflected off our pale figures. Fluid movements visible to us only by the heat that swathed our restless figures, keeping us locked to each other and blocking everyone else out. As I climaxed, I couldn't help but admire the sweat from José’s body, glowing like dew that dripped lightly away like wax from a candle. I licked over his skin with the tip of my tongue, feeling him shiver underneath me at the height of his own orgasm.
As we lay on the bed together and I managed to compose myself to something that resembled coherent, "What about Mont-Royal, cher? We haven’t been in… well, I haven’t been in ages."
José perked up as he wiped the sweat from across his head, "Vraiment?"
"Would I mention it if I didn’t mean it. We can disappear there not in the same way we would be able to disappear on Rue-Gossford by l’Édifice Lucien-Saulnier. Are you really in the mood to be taken down by screaming fan-girls?" I said, laughing at the familiar image in my head.
He chuckled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, "Mont-Royal it is, then. BUT only if we can take my car."
Without another sound, I agreed, not ready for another battle. I begrudgingly let him leave as I followed behind him for a quick shower. Afterwards, as we were dressing, I started to think about all the things that plagued my mind the last few weeks since the World Championships; having José stay behind to be with someone else, his confession of love to another and the deafening silence of not having him around. Perhaps I was finally ready to just tell him how I feel. We hadn’t spoke of it since the night I won the silver medal and we slept on the floor of our hotel room under the weight of an entire bottle of tequila.
I thought about it then and all the way up the mountain but I remained silent most of the trip. Every so often, José would shoot me a smile or admire something he had missed as we drove up Côte-des-Neiges to le Chemin Remembrance. We parked at Belvédère Camillien-Houde and made our way through a trail that looked private, tucked away by trees fresh in bloom. I hugged José closer as I realised no one was around, mimicking the ivy that grew across the trunks of the trees previously buried underneath mounds of snow. Everything seemed new.
"Let’s sit by the lake, Shelly," José pleaded, pointing in the direction of le Lac aux Castors, curling his fingers around my wrist and dragging me off the dirt paved trail.
"Shouldn’t we stay on the path," I asked, darting my eyes around looking for any chance we might get caught.
"You’re no fun, Shelly. C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?"
I shrugged and chuckled lightly as I followed on his heels. He planted himself in the grass and tugged at me to collapse next to him. I sat next to him lazily in the shade of large trees that surrounded us. We were suddenly hidden from plain view and a feeling of incredible relaxation fell over me. I sighed happily as I gazed at the water undulate under the blue sky, reflecting the clouds that passed overhead. The warmth of the afternoon overwhelmed me as I sunk against the earth and looked over at José sprawled out next to me.
"What are you thinking, Shelly," José pondered as he trailed his fingers through my hair, smiling down at me before pressing a light kiss to my lips.
"Nothing... I’m fine, cher. Please. I’m happy right now. This is nice." I feigned as I kissed him back, drawing him closer until he relaxed taut against me.
"You just seem, seem pre-occupied. But..." He trailed off, cautious not to push anything and his head fell into my chest. I realised that if I didn’t tell him now, I might never. My breathing became staggered, nervous as I embraced him, fearing that the words would come out more a forced melody than a hymn that sung his glories. I knew what I had to do and that I would sing it from the rhythm reverberating from my heart.
"José, I am going to tell you this now," I murmured, "I just... I don’t know how to tell you." He gave me a long, concerned look breaking the harmony of my words and staggering my courage. I held my breath deep in my chest for a moment as I watched his curious eyes, searching for something, anything.
"I want to keep you. I want to be with you. My Théo, mon coeur, j’suis t’amoureux. I am in love with you." I exhaled slowly, unsure of the timing and tempo, I closed my eyes, squeezing him in my arms. He smiled and kissed me, nestling down against my body as I pondered in my head how the next verse would be written.