lol modern. /shotwealthandstatusDecember 29 2009, 02:29:34 UTC
Rosemarine couldn't believe how incompetent Louis was. All he told--yelled, rather--him was to light the fireplace and he ended up spreading grime and soot and whatever unspeakable dirty particles all over his nice, clean room. Luckily he didn't end up getting dirty (except for some strands of his hair, egad), but he was still cold, and now, annoyed.
After lecturing Louis about work efficiency and ordering him to clean up the mess, he left his room with his robes tightly clutched against his chest. He was headed to Jules' room, of course; where else would he go?
Upon arrival, he didn't bother with nothing, he just opened the door. A bit more violent than intended, but he was annoyed. It was understandable.
Jules jumped at the noise. Well, speak of the devil... he didn't need to look up to know that Rosemariné was the only person at Laconblade with the gall to barge into his room like that.
"Good evening," he called, standing up to face Rosemariné. "What brings you here so late?" His friend was clearly quite annoyed, but that was nothing new to Jules. (It would be worrying if Rosemariné looked too happy to see him, really.)
"Louis..," Rosemarine sighed. He sat on the couch and looked up at Jules, idly trying to get some of the soot off of his hair. "Incompetent butlers are so..."
He was too tired to think of a clever insult. He grabbed Jules' hand and stared at the floor.
"...Can I stay here tonight? My room's cold and dirty." His voice was unusually quiet, but that was because he was too cold to be snarky.
Well, this was a surprise. Jules had expected Rosemariné to have come with a curt reminder or command of some sort, not a kind request. It was, he decided, a very nice change of pace.
"Just a minute," Jules said, going to his sleeping area to retrieve a hairbrush. When he returned, he sat down next to Rosemariné and started to carefully brush the soot from his hair before finally answering the other boy. "You're more than welcome to stay, of course. You can sleep in my bed, of course; the couch is plenty soft for me." He wouldn't mind sleeping in the same bed as Rosemariné, of course, but he doubted his friend would feel the same way.
Rosemarine's eyes were fixed on Jules (his lips, to be more specific; he didn't feel like he wanted to look him in the eyes), partly for lack of anything better to stare at, and partly because he felt obligated to look at the person that was combing his hair.
"Hm," it wasn't a response, really. It was just... an acknowledging sound. He would thank him, but he wasn't the type of person to vocalize his appreciation. "Can we..," the tone was normal at first, but then it turned to a whisper. "...stay here just a little longer..." Apparently sleepiness severely damaged his usual judgement.
He would ask for tea, but he wasn't sure if he'd be in the mood to finish it.
Jules strained to hear Rosemariné's words, slowing down his brushing as he got quieter. "Right here? Of course. The fire is lovely, isn't it?" He pulled the last bits of soot out of Rosemariné's hair with his fingers, looking over his (admittedly not very difficult) handiwork and admiring how elegantly the curls fell across his friend's shoulders.
He placed the brush and his book -- it wasn't as if he hadn't read it before, so Rosemariné was certainly more interesting than it -- on the ground and pulled the blanket he had been wrapped in partially back around himself, but this time handed the other side to Rosemariné. "Here, I can help warm you up."
"It's warm," Rosemarine added. Yes, he had to admit that it was rather lovely, but he appreciated its warmth more than its appearance.
When Jules offered him part of the blanket, he took it and wrapped it around himself. The distance between them had an annoying draft though, and it didn't allow him enjoy the comfort the blanket had to offer, so he moved closer to Jules so their shoulders and knees pressing together. He didn't say anything though. His attention was turned to the fireplace.
Normally, he avoided such proximity, but he was tired and trusted the person that he was with. He couldn't find a reason not to get this close, other than something about his pride.
It was surprising, but far from unpleasant, for Rosemariné to get so close to Jules. Yes, they often exchanged gentle touches, but this was closer to... cuddling, Jules realized, not helping matters by moving his arm around Rosemariné's shoulder by reflex.
Having Rosemariné so close to him was surprisingly pleasant, he decided: very warm and cosy indeed, in a way that made him feel strangely content. He casually stroked Rosemariné's hair, not sleepy so much as at peace. Smiling a bit, he marvelled over how his friend could make him feel so overwhelmed and angry sometimes, and yet also managed to stir up emotions like this.
Rosemarine was about to utter a protest, but he realized that the hand around him was... warm. Jules was warm. Being near him was... comfortable; Jules apparently had more body heat than he did. For some reason, he could tell Jules wasn't in the least disturbed about this; it almost seemed like he was as relaxed as he was. Perhaps this was one of those mutual situations, he couldn't tell.
So, he leaned closer to him, even resting his head on his shoulder. He took Jules' other hand and held it with both of his, enjoying its warmth.
/sticks it in I mean whatdofayeJanuary 2 2010, 05:00:57 UTC
It felt so natural, sitting together silently. Weren't ones truest emotions conveyed when one was silent? Jules though. It felt like he had read that somewhere and it seemed to be true right now. He often thought of Rosemariné as a source of stress, work, and money, but now... now, he was just Rosemariné, the person Jules was more comfortable with than anything else.
He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be intimate with him, but had quickly repressed those thoughts, knowing that Rosemariné would probably not respond well to any advances for a myriad of reasons. Tonight, though, it didn't seem like such a bad idea at all.
He pulled his hand away from Rosemariné's to pull Rosemariné's face toward his own and ran his thumb gently over him lips, just in case he needed to give the other boy an opportunity to pull away.
His mind started to panic. For so long, he wanted something like this to happen, but he never had the courage to do so because of that incident, so the urge was repressed, ignored, and was disguised as innocent friendship.
But.
He was well aware that he could easily push Jules away, because Jules never really tried to force anything on him. If their lips touched, it would be because he allowed it, so the decision was his to make.
He gulped, ignored his heart's fast beats and broke the space between them, giving Jules a light kiss. He wasn't sure what to do from that point on, though. Suddenly, he was regretting his decision, wondering if he should pull back... but if he did, then that would make him look like an idiot.
Of all the things that Jules was expecting to happen that night, kissing Rosemariné was very low on that list... and Rosemariné kissing him was completely out of the question. And yet there they were, hearts pounding and faces flushed and lips all but locked.
It was clear, now, that Rosemariné wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss Rosemariné, and yet Jules still felt flustered. He pressed his lips more firmly against Rosemariné's, hoping that he wasn't doing it completely wrong, and trying (unsuccessfully) to calm himself by remembering that Rosemariné was as accustomed to this as he was.
He didn't taste like sugar or strawberries or anything else Jules' collection of romance novels had led him to believe. He just tasted like... Rosemariné, whatever that meant.
Rosemarine was surprised that Jules worked with what he left off. It was the pleased, relieved type of surprise, though. He was afraid that Jules might pull away and look at him with disgust, although that was out of paranoia.
He didn't know when his hand untied Jules' hair ribbon, or how his fingers ended up in Jules' hair, but he didn't do anything to remove it from there. Jules didn't taste like anything great either, but he was sure that he didn't taste like anything he ever tasted before. It was odd, but pleasant.
Neither of them could've noticed that the blanket had ended up on their laps.
Jules could almost feel himself becoming unable to think as he and Rosemariné kissed. All he was able to do was wrap his arms around him and pull him closer; it wasn't the kind of warmth that Rosemariné had come expecting, but it was much better. Holding Rosemariné like this felt so natural, albiet not at all calming to his pounding heart.
Suddenly, Jules was very aware that one was meant to breathe while kissing. He pulled away, disappointed, to inhale, making a mental note to avoid that next time, if there was one.
"...erm, may I do that again?" he asked after an awkward silence.
When Jules pulled away, he removed his hand from Jules' hair and he just stared at him, panting for air and blushing. Reality hit him, and his blush grew darker.
The kiss felt so... surreal to him. He took a second to compose himself. After he brushed off some stray hair from his face, his face returned to normal, but then Jules asked that question. What kind of question was that!? Who would ask such a thing!?
"I..," he stopped. He wondered if he should vocalize his answer, but that would fluster him more, so he just gave a small nod.
Rosemariné would certainly be displeased with the way he looked now, if he had been in the mindset to be; his hair was mussed and he had a dazed look on his face. Jules couldn't help but feel proud of himself for making him look like that, since Rosemariné was always so calm and composed. He smiled, glad that Rosemariné hadn't changed his mind midway through the kiss.
He pulled Rosemariné close again, so close that Rosemariné was almost sitting in his lap, and kissed him, more firmly and confidently this time (partially because he was properly breathing through his nose). He was certain that he could spend the rest of the night like this, just running his hands through Rosemariné's hair and up and down his back, enjoying the softness of his lips and the warmth and excitement spreading through his body.
His soul felt completely bared, somehow, and he felt safe finally admitting to himself how much he wanted Rosemariné to be close to him in every way possible.
After lecturing Louis about work efficiency and ordering him to clean up the mess, he left his room with his robes tightly clutched against his chest. He was headed to Jules' room, of course; where else would he go?
Upon arrival, he didn't bother with nothing, he just opened the door. A bit more violent than intended, but he was annoyed. It was understandable.
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"Good evening," he called, standing up to face Rosemariné. "What brings you here so late?" His friend was clearly quite annoyed, but that was nothing new to Jules. (It would be worrying if Rosemariné looked too happy to see him, really.)
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He was too tired to think of a clever insult. He grabbed Jules' hand and stared at the floor.
"...Can I stay here tonight? My room's cold and dirty." His voice was unusually quiet, but that was because he was too cold to be snarky.
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"Just a minute," Jules said, going to his sleeping area to retrieve a hairbrush. When he returned, he sat down next to Rosemariné and started to carefully brush the soot from his hair before finally answering the other boy. "You're more than welcome to stay, of course. You can sleep in my bed, of course; the couch is plenty soft for me." He wouldn't mind sleeping in the same bed as Rosemariné, of course, but he doubted his friend would feel the same way.
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"Hm," it wasn't a response, really. It was just... an acknowledging sound. He would thank him, but he wasn't the type of person to vocalize his appreciation. "Can we..," the tone was normal at first, but then it turned to a whisper. "...stay here just a little longer..." Apparently sleepiness severely damaged his usual judgement.
He would ask for tea, but he wasn't sure if he'd be in the mood to finish it.
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He placed the brush and his book -- it wasn't as if he hadn't read it before, so Rosemariné was certainly more interesting than it -- on the ground and pulled the blanket he had been wrapped in partially back around himself, but this time handed the other side to Rosemariné. "Here, I can help warm you up."
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When Jules offered him part of the blanket, he took it and wrapped it around himself. The distance between them had an annoying draft though, and it didn't allow him enjoy the comfort the blanket had to offer, so he moved closer to Jules so their shoulders and knees pressing together. He didn't say anything though. His attention was turned to the fireplace.
Normally, he avoided such proximity, but he was tired and trusted the person that he was with. He couldn't find a reason not to get this close, other than something about his pride.
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Having Rosemariné so close to him was surprisingly pleasant, he decided: very warm and cosy indeed, in a way that made him feel strangely content. He casually stroked Rosemariné's hair, not sleepy so much as at peace. Smiling a bit, he marvelled over how his friend could make him feel so overwhelmed and angry sometimes, and yet also managed to stir up emotions like this.
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So, he leaned closer to him, even resting his head on his shoulder. He took Jules' other hand and held it with both of his, enjoying its warmth.
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He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be intimate with him, but had quickly repressed those thoughts, knowing that Rosemariné would probably not respond well to any advances for a myriad of reasons. Tonight, though, it didn't seem like such a bad idea at all.
He pulled his hand away from Rosemariné's to pull Rosemariné's face toward his own and ran his thumb gently over him lips, just in case he needed to give the other boy an opportunity to pull away.
[ooc: If he pulls away I will kill you. D8]
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But.
He was well aware that he could easily push Jules away, because Jules never really tried to force anything on him. If their lips touched, it would be because he allowed it, so the decision was his to make.
He gulped, ignored his heart's fast beats and broke the space between them, giving Jules a light kiss. He wasn't sure what to do from that point on, though. Suddenly, he was regretting his decision, wondering if he should pull back... but if he did, then that would make him look like an idiot.
So he froze.
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It was clear, now, that Rosemariné wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss Rosemariné, and yet Jules still felt flustered. He pressed his lips more firmly against Rosemariné's, hoping that he wasn't doing it completely wrong, and trying (unsuccessfully) to calm himself by remembering that Rosemariné was as accustomed to this as he was.
He didn't taste like sugar or strawberries or anything else Jules' collection of romance novels had led him to believe. He just tasted like... Rosemariné, whatever that meant.
...it was rather nice.
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He didn't know when his hand untied Jules' hair ribbon, or how his fingers ended up in Jules' hair, but he didn't do anything to remove it from there. Jules didn't taste like anything great either, but he was sure that he didn't taste like anything he ever tasted before. It was odd, but pleasant.
Neither of them could've noticed that the blanket had ended up on their laps.
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Suddenly, Jules was very aware that one was meant to breathe while kissing. He pulled away, disappointed, to inhale, making a mental note to avoid that next time, if there was one.
"...erm, may I do that again?" he asked after an awkward silence.
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The kiss felt so... surreal to him. He took a second to compose himself. After he brushed off some stray hair from his face, his face returned to normal, but then Jules asked that question. What kind of question was that!? Who would ask such a thing!?
"I..," he stopped. He wondered if he should vocalize his answer, but that would fluster him more, so he just gave a small nod.
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He pulled Rosemariné close again, so close that Rosemariné was almost sitting in his lap, and kissed him, more firmly and confidently this time (partially because he was properly breathing through his nose). He was certain that he could spend the rest of the night like this, just running his hands through Rosemariné's hair and up and down his back, enjoying the softness of his lips and the warmth and excitement spreading through his body.
His soul felt completely bared, somehow, and he felt safe finally admitting to himself how much he wanted Rosemariné to be close to him in every way possible.
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