ataraxionlogs | [Closed Log]

CHARACTERS: Combeferre and Eponine
LOCATION: Their Room
WARNINGS: Sexual Content and discussion (so far) of Bondage. R, so far for themes. Will update when it gets to NC-17.
SUMMARY: Combeferre has a fun new idea to talk about...
NOTES:

[For all that Combeferre appears to be the calm, collected member of his little friend group, the one you would not consider to have any secret vices and pretty standard tastes, that is not entirely true. Combeferre, you see, reads everything, and on the ship, that has included quite a lot. Including a fairly terrible novel regarding some extremely dubious vampire erotica with loosely defined consent, and downright abusive tactics. The novel disgusted him enough that he actually smashed the pad, rather than return it to the media library. but it HAS given him something of an idea, awkward as it is.

For some reason, despite it being awkward, he does very much wonder how Eponine might react to his proposal, though he finds himself hedging around it a little, until one afternoon when they are both very much alone for a few hours. Smiling, a little nervously, he's pausing to perch on a bed, then getting up and walking again, clearly anxious, and clearly with something to say. And he's aware he looks like an idiot, but for the moment he is clearing his throat, then glancing at Eponine, finally opening his mouth.]

You do know how much I care for you, yes? And that I should never wish to harm you, and for you to always have a say in...in everything? Even if it seems as though...No, never mind. Perhaps I should not say...

[He's frowning again, unsure of how to get this out, but wanting to try.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's moaning into her lips in return, a deep gasp with the motion as he rocks forward, unable to keep his hips from the movement.]

Everything I am, or have been, or will be, is also you.

[Every breath he breathes, she takes and she gives back, sharing the very air between them, charged with electricity and things she doesn't understand. It's perfect, it's amazing, and her cheeks are wet again.]

Yours, yours, mine. My sweet, sweet Michel.

Always yours, Eponine. Whatever happens now, we have each other.

[That is amazing, almost overwhelming and Combeferre can barely handle the fact when he thinks of it. He does love it though,of course, as much as he loves her, and he is smiling as he nuzzles her forehead a little.]

I do not think that I could love you more.

[She moans in response to his words, his kisses, his everything.]

I did not know love. Not till I had you. You love me, you love me, you love me. And I love you, my beautiful, handsome Michel. Oh-! yes, that is good!

It is..

[He's pushing her back now, as she asked, while he rocks into her a little faster. a hand trailing down her hip at the same time, gasping a little.]

My Eponine! Oh Christ.

More, you must- [She's shut her eyes, a mistake. The weight of his body could have been anyone's. Only her name spoken like that gave him away.

Still she rocks against him, letting her hips open further.]

I must...

[He must stop THINKING, honestly. And when Combeferre manages that, only to act instead of constant analyzing, well. He did not quite know it was possible that going so deeply could work though a part of him worries she may be in pain later. Still, he's trying to ignore all thoughts as he thrusts harder and oh. Oh this is...

There are no words. Just gasps and muffled curses in Provencal. While he might not have much cause to USE the words often...he DID grow up in Marseilles and was exposed to enough of them that the stream of dialect pouring from his lips is absolutely filthy just now. ]

[Oh and she did not know he could even make such words come out of his fair lips. She responds in kind, her own Argot just as vile as his. She tried to keep it minimal, around men of society, as she had deemed Michel and his friends.

She opens further to him, wrapping her legs around him to keep him deep inside of her.]

[He might ask later, some of it, because it sounds...Oh FUCK it sounds like something he should know. For now, he's angling deeper, his thrusts faster and harder as she moves and he shifts in response, groaning deeply.]

Eponine. Ah Fuck!

Yes, like that, m'sieur! [An affectionate nickname, almost, as she lifts herself up slightly to find his shoulder and bite down, feeling the salty skin between her teeth. She sucks there gently for a moment as she thrusts against him until the tightening sensation in her abdomen coils tightly and, after a moment, releases. Her toes curl and she ruts against him faster and faster as she can feel her very veins alive and on fire.

Her muscles tighten and loosen as she longs to hold him, practically ripping at her restraints as she comes hard against him.]

[And it is one Combeferre does not completely mind. His tastes run toward 'doctor' but he won't interrupt to correct her now. After all, she's chosen it and GOD, everything is so tight that he is nearly BLIND, and then everything is happening at once and he is gasping out her name as he follows suit, brought to the edge by her release and pleasure.]

Ungh. Jesu.

[As she comes down, she continues to pepper his neck and shoulders with kisses between deep, frantic breaths. The word that comes through her mind is worship, and if that is what she's doing then she is doing it. She is worshiping Michel Combeferre and he has worshipped her in turn.]

Mon dieu.

[Worship is a word for it, all right. Combeferre is gasping a bit, unable to regulate his breathing just yet, while he's reaching to begin freeing Eponine's wrists, inspecting them for any marks of damage that he may have put there.]

Are you in any pain?

[This is followed with a kiss to the inside of her right wrist.]

I've lotion if you need it.

[The kiss has her sighing happily. There are marks on her wrists, but nothing awful, that will not fade.]

No, no, sweet. I am wonderful.

[Closed Log]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject