sleepytimejunction | HALT THE VAULT

HALT THE VAULT

Dividing their forces is the best way to confront this matter, to ensure that the Archbishop does not escape and that Aymeric is successfully rescued. Though there is the selfish urge to remain at the Warrior of Light's side, he also knows that they cannot spare another moment if possible for Aymeric's sake. He has no doubt of the Warrior's skill and abilities, but it is still difficult to turn away and not lend his shield.

"Be well, my friends," Haurchefant says, keeping his encouraging smile up. Time isn't at their side, so no more words are exchanged, giving him the gift of the Warrior's stoic nod. It is enough for him. They part ways, leaving to their own respective duties.

As he goes into the bowels of the Vault, keeping his head clear and his eyes focused. He does not love to kill his fellow Ishgardian, but if they aim to protect the Archbishop and keep him from finding the Lord Commander, then they are his enemy. They will not spare him mercy, so in turn none can be spared for them.

"They're here! Sound the--hrrk" a temple knight begins, at least until Haurchefant guts him.

Well, hopefully cutting him off will give him enough time.

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[It would be incorrect to say that Aymeric has anywhere close to the presence of mind to play dirty when it comes to the opportunity he's just been given. It would be incorrect to say he has much of a thought in his head at all, save a preoccupying addiction to the sudden wet heat of Haurchefant's mouth closing over him, and a need to have so much more of it.

But even on instinct alone, there is something in him that seeks to give as good as he gets, and so his hands don't stay still in Haurchefant's hair; one twists into the silvery locks like insurance against the possibility that he might pull away, but the other drifts to the sleek point of Haurchefant's ear and begins to run along it, base to tip, fondling the sensitive shell.]

Behave...!

[Somehow, he really did not anticipate this. Oh, he certainly had been counting on Aymeric to grip his hair tight, enough that it mixes with a bit of pain and pleasure both. The fingers dancing over his ear makes him shiver, but it's the way his voice sounds, like an order.

Behave. Oh, Fury, he likes that. Putting a bit of power back into Aymeric's hands, giving him agency -- that'd been a brilliant move on his part that he didn't even consider. It's enough that he moans softly against Aymeric, swallowing him down more eagerly.

Yes, yes. Whatever he wants.]

[His hips jerk slightly as Haurchefant redoubles his efforts, making noises as he works that sound...eminently pleasurable, which seems a touch strange — surely the act of giving could hardly be so delightful as that of receiving? — but fortunately, Aymeric is far too far gone to reflect on such things at the moment. Instead, he trembles and quakes, tempted to drive up into the warmth of Haurchefant's mouth and only just barely catching himself before he does, lest he risk choking him.

Instead, his legs splay mortifyingly wide, his cheeks gone red and his eyes glassy; the hand in Haurchefant's hair holds fast at first, but then learns the rhythm of his bobbing and takes its cue from it, pressing in and pulling off along with his own movements to give the illusion, at least, of being made to do it.]

Haurchefant...

[He sounds hoarse, his voice ragged.]

Haurchefant, I don't want to spend without you...

[There is a part of him that would be content alone if Aymeric finished in his throat. If it all ended there, he'd be happy with it, but instead Aymeric asks for something else. And who is he to refuse?

Slowly, Haurchefant eases off, licking his lips; they're a bit swollen, plush and pink, and he has nothing but pride for it as he sits up.]

Tell me what you want. [His voice is a shade rougher, but still adoring as he looks over what picture Aymeric makes: his blush, his eyes. How could he manage to be anymore beautiful?] Tell me, and I will do it for you.

[It aches to feel Haurchefant slide off and leave him wet and pulsing unsatisfied, but the sight of him acts as a balm to soothe the desperation somewhat; with a soft noise, Aymeric grasps for him, trying to pull him back to his mouth, wanting to kiss those selfsame lips that had just been caressing his cock just moments before.]

You will unmake me —

[What he wants is to drag Haurchefant down on top of himself, to feel the comforting weight of his body, to lie flush against him and grind their hips together and relish each and every sensation — but it would be pleasure laced through with aches and pains, and Haurchefant has already expressed himself on the possibility of causing him even an onze of sting right now.

So, more gently, he seeks out tenderness. Seeks to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him more, full to bursting with sweetness that burns to be returned in kind.]

Anything. Anything, so long as I may please you in kind. Anything, only give me your moans to swallow and your breath to steal. Anything to make you mine even as you claim me as yours.

[He holds his breath a moment, pleasantly startled as he's pulled down into kiss after kiss. It positively melts him, and Haurchefant chases after his lips with a shudder. Once he's able to steal a breath, he presses his forehead to Aymeric's.]

Should I unmake you, I swear I shall put you back together again.

[And he wants so badly to bury himself inside and bring them pleasure both, but he is still mindful and refuses to bring Aymeric any discomfort. Another day, if Aymeric will have him again, then he will deliver.

For now, he squirms and opens the front of his trousers, sighing as he eases himself out.]

Then join me, dearest Aymeric. For us both.

[He takes one of the other man's hands, kissing and licking his palm sweetly before bringing it down. With both of their hands, he brings their cocks together, groaning at the silky heat of it. There is no playing, no toying this time; instead, he keeps his grip firm around Aymeric's hand, guiding him to stroke both of their pricks.]

[A sudden, deep moan wrings out of Aymeric's throat as the subtle but significant weight of Haurchefant's words lands on him; there have been assurances made, yes, but always phrased as I will or I shall, sweet reminders from one lover to another —

But like this, with foreheads brought together and only the sticky damp of sweat between them, with lips reddened from too many kisses and breathless words slipping from them, with sighs and heat and tenderness, Haurchefant says I swear.

It should not send such a bolt of levin straight to his cock; it does. He had not thought, in such a state as he is, that he could find himself any more aroused; he does.]

I have your vow.

[He rocks his head up, claims Haurchefant's mouth again, wet and messy and slick as the slide of his own hand stroking them down below.]

I would have others — yes, yes, ah! — I would have more. Swear your vows, grant me my own knight to favor —

[Well. It certainly seems like the both of them have discovered quite a bit about what they're enjoying from one another, suffice it to say! And what a lovely discovery it is; he listens to the moans coming out of Aymeric like it's the sweetest music, watching how the curls of his hair stick to his face.

Fury, he really is so beautiful.

Eagerly, he meets his mouth to Aymeric's when he can spare the breath, shuddering as he grinds his hips toward both of their hands.]

Yes-- [The word is gasped out when he can convince himself to part his lips from Aymeric.] Yes, I swear, all to you...!

[For him, it is not even simple bedroom talk. They are all words he means, passionate as they are.]

Mmmf...!

[It's so good, he almost doesn't even want to bother with his hand anymore, and for a fleeting second Aymeric catches himself thinking of the spectacle it would make, if he really did surrender the grip in favor of simply fitting Haurchefant's thigh between his own and rutting on him until he spent. But to do so would be inconsiderate, and deprive Haurchefant of his touch, and there's still something undeniably exquisite about the velvety weight of him in his palm, something he ultimately decides he'd be loath to relinquish.

At least he still has another hand, one which drapes over Haurchefant's shoulder and rakes nails along his back, half-embracing him and half-trapping him in his hold, keeping him close so that he's never too far from another kiss.]

All to me? To do anything I want you to...?

[His breathing is rough and haggard, but his eyes are bright and his voice deep.]

Then spend when I tell you. At my command.

[Aymeric's nails earn him a deep shiver, and alike with much of Haurchefant's reactions he barely holds back; his noises are only muted for the sake of discretion, never out of shame. It's a delicious small bite to his skin, and he could hardly oppose to it.

He stills for only a moment when Aymeric does actually assume control of the situation. Rather unexpectedly! Haurchefant is pleasantly surprised and speechless for a moment, then he swallows hard. A shudder runs through his body, and he rubs his forehead against Aymeric's.

It's a difficult thing he orders, but--]

Ah. As you command, of course.

Oh, Haurchefant —

[He doesn't quite realize, at first, how he's thoughtlessly played right into Haurchefant's budding kink by teasing out threads of his own; the words are out of his mouth on impulse, nonsense things that lovers say in the midst of the heat of passion. It's not until Haurchefant is trembling in his arms that it occurs to him that his devoted knight might well keep his word, against all likelihood or sense — that Haurchefant would try to achieve it, impossible or not, simply because he bade him to.

It's so arousing that he quite nearly spends himself, right then and there; liquid beads heavy at the tip of his cock as he shivers himself, left to bite down hard on his lip with the abrupt desperation of trying to keep from tipping over.]

Oh, mercy — you, you would, wouldn't you? You truly would.

[And more likely than not the very sight of it would push him to his brink, himself.]

Shall I let you?

[Desperate kisses are spread in quick, wet pecks across Aymeric's face and lips, his hips urge into their united hands. His moan is only soft because he minds their privacy, not out of embarrassment.]

I would beg if-- if that's what you needed to hear.

[He's panting, eagerly sinking into this newfound thrill of his. It's exciting, something new and precious he can share with Aymeric if he so desired. How difficult it is suddenly to keep himself from finishing, wanting nothing more than to make a mess of them both, but he holds back because he is not a man who shirks his orders.]

Please-- please. Let me, let us both.

I would never be so cruel to my — my sworn blade.

[The fact that he adds a faint squeeze to the next stroke of his hand suggests that it's not Haurchefant's silver fuller he's referring to, or at the very least not what he's making a somewhat saucy innuendo about.]

For me. All over me, make a mess of me, and look upon your handiwork.

[He pants, shudders, and gives one last slick stroke of him, feeling his own climax rushing up too fast to even hope to combat this time.]

Now, dearest —

Oh--

[He has to bring up his hand to bite a knuckle, else he's certain he would cry out at the pleasure surging within him. A stifled sound squeezes out as he bucks his hips helplessly, letting himself go.

He spends, harder than he has in awhile, and to think he hadn't even done much of anything to himself. Not only has it been worthwhile to enjoy Aymeric's reactions, but the way he'd taken command, as it were, was more fulfilling than he thought as well. Eyes half-lidded, he gazes down, looking toward the marvelous mess he's spilled, content to know that he has marked up the other man beautifully.]

[There is something...he daren't say holy in this, but in the very least, something that teases at darkly sanctifying. That Haurchefant came after him to rescue him from the Vault, to pluck him from the purification of the tortures the Heaven's Ward keeps deep within; it only feels right that he, too, should be the one to chase away every pious pain inflicted and replace it with sinful pleasure, to tend him and clean him before rendering him utterly filthy again.

He's panting, seemingly unable to draw in as much breath as he needs, with his eyes hazy and his lips kiss-bruised and his every limb buzzing with satisfaction too powerful to even remember his hurts. He feels nothing but floating and sees nothing but Haurchefant's adoring face, and it's a respite he doesn't deserve but accepts the grace of anyway.

And yet almost as soon as he contemplates his own bliss, something cold curls up in his chest, an awareness of how fleeting such things always are. That sooner or later this will end. That damnation for all of Ishgard still awaits outside these infirmary doors, and neither one of them can lie idle in ignorance of it.]

Please don't leave.

[But there is time, still, for a little more yet. Time to wring all the affection out of his own heart in offering and let Haurchefant's smiles fill it again with more.]

I would have this last a little longer.

Shh.

[With his clean hand, he cups Aymeric's face, looking over at him to truly drink in how lovely he is right now. Cheeks still pink, sweat on his brow, and their spend a perfect painted mess over him. There isn't anything more beautiful than that right now to him.

So finely he has taken Aymeric apart, he keeps his word: he shall put him back together again. And he would not succeed in that by simply leaving.]

You shall have me for as long as you need. Would you let me hold you?

[Such tenderness Haurchefant shows him even in so kindly a shushing. When fingers skim over his cheek, Aymeric's eyes fall half-lidded, the blue hidden beneath them both heated and dreamy.]

I would beg for it.

[A soft echo of what Haurchefant had said before. Reaffirmation of the depths of his own desire.]

Lest my treacherous thoughts drift back to the — to before. And away from you.

Never would I dream of making you beg for anything. ...Well, unless you wanted to, hm? [He offers a cheeky wink before he considers the more serious matter before them. What Aymeric has endured is no small thing, after all.]

Well, we cannot have any of that. Not right now.

[In time, Aymeric will need to process all of it, unfortunately. And though Haurchefant loathes to let him have his pain, he will ensure it is not done alone. So, for now, he shifts his weight on the bed to arrange himself onto his side next to the other man before pulling him close. His lips find Aymeric's brow.]

Take what warmth I can give you, for I give it freely.

[He would have thought he'd already blushed enough for a lifetime, and yet when Haurchefant winks saucily at him, Aymeric can't help but redden as a faint noise escapes him despite himself. But soon enough his fluster passes, and he settles slowly as Haurchefant shifts to take him in his arms, enveloping and soothing even as the spend still sticking to his belly begins to cool.]

What else do you dream of, my dearest...?

[It doesn't sound like an invitation for innuendo, but all things are presumably open to interpretation.]

Mine own are consumed with...always, ever the same. The end of the war. The future of Ishgard. Bringing the truth to light, now.

[He sighs, faint and slow.]

Would that I might dream of anything else, even for just a little while.

'Twas once that I could scarce to dream beyond my role as a knight. To know that I could fight and protect others, the truly helpless -- that was my drive for so long.

However, the Warrior of Light, they have brought us so much potential and hope. That I could even dream for anything else is blessing!

[He presses his cheek lightly to Aymeric's forehead.]

I think that, perhaps, I would like to be at your side through it all. To help usher Ishgard to where it could be. For all of your strength, I dare not think you ought to do it alone!

Hah...such lofty pedestals you afford us to stand on, myself and our dear friend both.

[But he murmurs his soft approval of the attention to his head, eyes closing, breathing evening out.]

But 'tis such a nice dream, is it not? A better Ishgard. A brighter morrow. I would give...much and more, for that.

I mean only to speak the truth, for how much I admire the two of you is immeasurable.

[Haurchefant smiles faintly to himself, watching Aymeric's eyes close. Finally, he looks close to relaxing, and Haurchefant could not be more pleased for it.]

I know it is not simple thing that will be solved over night. Yet, there is a thrill in me knowing we might attain it.

[The Archbishop must be stopped first, of course. Though he does not mention it. For now, he wishes to keep it fairly optimistic.]

Let this knight aid and shield you as needed.

My knight.

[He says it softly — not quite to the point of being drowsy, but certainly drifting on the lingering sensation of orgasm as he idles in Haurchefant's embrace.]

Could you bear it, do you think? Not just to stand at my side, but to be mine?

Bear it, you say. As if it were some sort of burden to be yours.

[Lightly, he nuzzles the top of Aymeric's head.]

I would swear myself to you in all ways. My shield, my sword, and my heart. If you would have me.

Would that it were only our hearts that mattered, and I would need not even ask.

[Gradually, he gathers up enough of his sense to remember how arms work, and reaches over a little awkwardly to find Haurchefant, faltering as he first tries to card fingers through his hair and eventually settling instead for running the tips of his fingers up and down the other man's bare arm.]

But Ishgard...

[Ishgard is such a cruel mistress. He could not love her more, even for all her wounds and stings.]

...What manner of fool am I, so focused on what lies for us ahead that I neglect the vision at my side. Forgive me. You are — [He flushes, just a little.] — romancing me still, I think, and I am failing to give your sweet words their due.

[He pauses, then tries a wry half-smile.]

You may ravish me again, with my permission and as you see fit, should my pondering grow intolerable.

HALT THE VAULT

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