OLD GENERATION FIC: "Unearthly Reveries" ~ Saint-Just/Le Bas ~ Rated PG
Is it good? Good impressions from Le Bas. More serious.
Title: Unearthly Reveries
First Posted: October 28, 2006
Pairing: Saint-Just/Le Bas
Rating: PG
Word Count: 538.
Summary: Sequel to Craving for Silence and Flute Playing... - sort of. (It refers to what happened in the previous one anyway.) Le Bas can’t sleep and observes Saint-Just - who is sleeping.
Beta’ed by estellacat
Unearthly Reveries
~ by Maelicia.
The glow of the full moon on his face was such a surreal sight. His skin seemed to become the same eerie shade as that of the celestial body. It was a cold luminescence… which, not so strangely, suited him perfectly. If there were men living on the moon, Le Bas thought, they’d look exactly like him.
Saint-Just had always seemed unearthly.
Le Bas wondered what his friend would think, how he’d react, if he were to open his eyes right now. He’d probably stare, wordless, to find the other man kneeling there, on the cold ground at his bedside. There would be nothing to reply to this; Le Bas hadn’t even planned an excuse. He just couldn’t find sleep… and this radiant face had hypnotised him. So he watched, silently, observing the reposed features. He hadn’t dared to sit by his side, on the small bed - it might have awakened Saint-Just… and yet Le Bas almost prayed that he’d wake up, thinking back on what had happened the other evening. He couldn’t keep the memory from haunting his mind. Those lips on his, they were so… burning. Why had Saint-Just done that? Why was he thinking about it right now? Those were assuredly unfaithful and wrong thoughts - wrongly unfaithful, in fact, but… that was Saint-Just. It couldn’t be wrong with Saint-Just. Everything was always so right with him.
‘Please, wake up.’ He screamed in his mind. But why should his friend wake up? Le Bas had been so cautious to avoid it. Oh, but there was something, one thing he could always do, one thing he had always thought of doing - secretly, of course. It was his hair; when he walked behind Saint-Just, Le Bas couldn’t stop looking at it. It seemed so soft. He wondered if it would feel very different from Élisabeth’s… his fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to find out much longer; they drew near and lightly stroked the waves of hair by Saint-Just’s ear. He didn’t seem to notice anything and still slept very profoundly. Le Bas tried again, a slower motion from the top of the forehead to below the ear. He skimmed over a part of his earlobe. Le Bas pursed his lips. Another caress, firmer than those previous, a little more irresistible pressure in this game of risk. He was almost touching his cheek when Saint-Just suddenly moved. Le Bas held his breath. His friend rolled a bit in the bed, moving his head on the pillow, but he didn’t open his eyes. He was still asleep, but his lips parted and he murmured something. One word. A very simple one. A name, in fact. A name that neither Le Bas nor Saint-Just could mistake or use without knowing who it referred to.
Maxime.
And there was a smile on those lips. These lips that once pressed against his were smiling because of… because of Maxime.
Le Bas stood, briskly and coldly. He returned to his bed, careless of the noise. Finding the comfortable warmth of his bedsheets, he heard the same voice behind him, drowsy.
“Are you awake?”
“Hmm.”
“Why?”
“I heard you having a nightmare.”
“I was not.”
Saint-Just frowned, but Le Bas had stopped looking at him.
~ The End.
Title: Unearthly Reveries
First Posted: October 28, 2006
Pairing: Saint-Just/Le Bas
Rating: PG
Word Count: 538.
Summary: Sequel to Craving for Silence and Flute Playing... - sort of. (It refers to what happened in the previous one anyway.) Le Bas can’t sleep and observes Saint-Just - who is sleeping.
Beta’ed by estellacat
Unearthly Reveries
~ by Maelicia.
The glow of the full moon on his face was such a surreal sight. His skin seemed to become the same eerie shade as that of the celestial body. It was a cold luminescence… which, not so strangely, suited him perfectly. If there were men living on the moon, Le Bas thought, they’d look exactly like him.
Saint-Just had always seemed unearthly.
Le Bas wondered what his friend would think, how he’d react, if he were to open his eyes right now. He’d probably stare, wordless, to find the other man kneeling there, on the cold ground at his bedside. There would be nothing to reply to this; Le Bas hadn’t even planned an excuse. He just couldn’t find sleep… and this radiant face had hypnotised him. So he watched, silently, observing the reposed features. He hadn’t dared to sit by his side, on the small bed - it might have awakened Saint-Just… and yet Le Bas almost prayed that he’d wake up, thinking back on what had happened the other evening. He couldn’t keep the memory from haunting his mind. Those lips on his, they were so… burning. Why had Saint-Just done that? Why was he thinking about it right now? Those were assuredly unfaithful and wrong thoughts - wrongly unfaithful, in fact, but… that was Saint-Just. It couldn’t be wrong with Saint-Just. Everything was always so right with him.
‘Please, wake up.’ He screamed in his mind. But why should his friend wake up? Le Bas had been so cautious to avoid it. Oh, but there was something, one thing he could always do, one thing he had always thought of doing - secretly, of course. It was his hair; when he walked behind Saint-Just, Le Bas couldn’t stop looking at it. It seemed so soft. He wondered if it would feel very different from Élisabeth’s… his fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to find out much longer; they drew near and lightly stroked the waves of hair by Saint-Just’s ear. He didn’t seem to notice anything and still slept very profoundly. Le Bas tried again, a slower motion from the top of the forehead to below the ear. He skimmed over a part of his earlobe. Le Bas pursed his lips. Another caress, firmer than those previous, a little more irresistible pressure in this game of risk. He was almost touching his cheek when Saint-Just suddenly moved. Le Bas held his breath. His friend rolled a bit in the bed, moving his head on the pillow, but he didn’t open his eyes. He was still asleep, but his lips parted and he murmured something. One word. A very simple one. A name, in fact. A name that neither Le Bas nor Saint-Just could mistake or use without knowing who it referred to.
Maxime.
And there was a smile on those lips. These lips that once pressed against his were smiling because of… because of Maxime.
Le Bas stood, briskly and coldly. He returned to his bed, careless of the noise. Finding the comfortable warmth of his bedsheets, he heard the same voice behind him, drowsy.
“Are you awake?”
“Hmm.”
“Why?”
“I heard you having a nightmare.”
“I was not.”
Saint-Just frowned, but Le Bas had stopped looking at him.
~ The End.